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letapollojusticesayfuck · 3 years ago

Note

"the way you flirt is shameful." Klavier (klapollo) and ema ?

"short fics," I said, like a liar.

anyway please enjoy almost 2k of Klapollo Nonsense.

Send me a random line of dialogue and some characters, and I'll write a short fic!

---

Another grey morning, another lukewarm cup of coffee. Apollo pulls his coat a little tighter around him, scowling at nothing in particular. It’s just his luck, isn’t it, that this week’s defendant is a fisherman, accused of murdering their boat’s captain out on the docks.

It’s also just his luck that it’s March, and he hadn’t even thought anyone would be out on the water this early in the year. Shows how much he knows about the fishing industry.

He jumps when an arm lands around his shoulders, and has to fight to keep his awful beverage from sloshing entirely out of its styrofoam cup. With an irritated huff, Apollo turns to reprimand his unexpected company, but the words die in his throat when he looks over to see Klavier Gavin—and, more specifically, the woolly hat perched on his head. It appears to be lovingly hand-knitted, in a shade of purple he’d swear he’d seen in scraps of wool lying around the office in previous weeks. It also happens to be emblazoned with Gavin’s ridiculous logo, the angular G as distinctive as ever.

“Uh…” he says instead, eyebrow raised in what he hopes is a skeptical, yet bewildered expression. He’s not sure he succeeds with that, though, considering the way Gavin’s casual smile crooks up at the edges into a more genuine grin.

“Ja, Herr Forehead? How goes the investigation?” Lazy curls of steam rise from the stainless steel travel mug clasped in his hand, dissipating into the pervasive fog that’s blanketing the docks. Typical. Apollo considers asking him if he’d like to swap drinks.

“Cold. Damp. And is this a good time to mention that I’m allergic to shellfish? I think that’s probably an important detail, considering….this.” he replies, poking an errant mussel with the point of his dress shoe. His dress shoe that he’s for some reason wearing to a crime scene out by the harbour, because Apollo has misplaced ideas of professionalism, apparently.

“Ach, it’s not that bad! For one, you have my company to brighten up your day! And for another thing...I have news for you about the case.”

“Really. And it’s not just going to be something that you’ll immediately rescind in court tomorrow?”

“HerrForehead, what kind of prosecutor do you take me for? We’re on the same side, you know—both seeking the truth.”

“That’s cheesy as anything.”

“But correct! Anyway. FräuleinSkye has just uncovered something tangled around one of the fishing lines on the boat, and she’s attempting to piece it back together. If you hurry, you might get a glimpse before it goes straight into the evidence dossier.”

Apollo hmms, considering. He’s not sure he wants to just take Klavier’s tip-off; it could be seen as collusion under some circumstances. But he’s really not accomplishing anything on his own, and any new evidence could help him prove Annette Sloop’s innocence.

He also realizes, belatedly, that Klavier still has his arm around his shoulders, and that he’s been unconsciously leaning into the warmth of the taller man’s down jacket.

“Okay, sure—it’s gotta be better than anything I can find here,” Apollo decides, and tries to subtly extricate himself from Klavier’s grasp without drawing attention to the fact that he’s actually found some kind of comfort in their proximity, that he’s really not particularly enthusiastic about losing his human space-heater.

Luckily, Klavier realizes that he’ll have to grant Apollo his freedom if he wants the shorter man to be able to take advantage of his newly-gained intel, and drops his arm back to his own side. Apollo stifles a shiver as the cool, damp air rushes back against him, clinging to his skin with a pervasive chill.

He’d assumed that Klavier had business to take care of on the dock, so the fact that the prosecutor follows him as he boards the fishing boat takes him by surprise. What also takes him by surprise is the intensity of the fishy aroma around the vessel, something that Apollo really should have considered as a factor beforehand. He wrinkles his nose and tries to breathe shallowly—and when that doesn’t work out, he buries his nose in the collar of his jacket.

And that brings with it its own set of problems, because somehow the short amount of time his jacket was in contact with Klavier’s own was enough to allow the other man’s sandalwood cologne to seep into the thin fabric. Apollo wishes this wasn’t his life. Isn’t this the kind of stuff teenagers write about?

Luckily, his panicking is cut short by Ema Skye clearing her throat from the other end of the deck, midway through spreading fabric scraps onto a plastic folding table. She appears decidedly unimpressed, but waves them over.

“Justice. I take it you were informed of the recent developments by the fop here?” she remarks, as disinterestedly as possible for someone who’s practically vibrating with the excitement of being able to do something actually forensically significant.

“Er...yeah, Klavier told me that you’d found something?” Apollo replies, trying to look as though he understands more of the situation than he actually does. He thinks he pulls it off. If not, Ema doesn’t comment on it.

Klavier, however, smiles impossibly wide at Apollo’s words, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s because he’d called the man by his first name, as opposed to his more professional title. A slip of the tongue, nothing more! And yet…

If it’d get a reaction like that, Apollo might start using Klavier’s first name significantly more often.

“Oh, come on, do neither of you actually care about this T-shirt I found? This apparently-bloodstainedT-shirt?” Ema taps her foot against the plank wood of the ship’s deck. Apollo breaks out of his thoughts with just about enough time to look marginally interested in the new evidence—which he hopes is convincing.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to solve the murder! It’s really just that—well, Klavier is just there, being distracting, like he always is—except it’s worse, recently, somehow. Apollo swears he used to be able to spend time focusing on other things, that he wasn’t always this preoccupied with what the prosecutor was doing, where he was standing, if he was looking at--

“Oh, for God’s sake. The way you flirt is shameful,” Ema says, entirely exasperated. She also seems to be looking at Apollo, for some reason.

“Are you talking to me?” he asks, confused. The detective rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically, visibly resisting the urge to throw up her hands.

“You, him, both of you! This used to be almost funny, you know, watching Gavin be all glimmerous in your direction and seeing you shut him down. But recently you’ve been playing into it and—you know what? I’m done! You don’t get to listen to my stunning forensic breakthroughs until you’ve sorted your shit out, because I just can’t be doing with this. It’s ridiculous. Why can’t you just act like adults?”

The outburst is followed by Ema Skye whirling around, the sensible shoes she’s wearing clacking against the ship’s deck. Halfway to the door to the crew’s quarters, she remembers that she’s left all her forensic materials spread out next to where Klavier and Apollo are standing, and backtracks with increasingly evident frustration.

“You know what? I’m not leaving! You two—off my ship!Go figure yourselves out, and I won’t tell you about this case-changing evidence until you’ve stopped acting like this.”

Apollo’s a little taken-aback—not the least because he doesn’t think that he’s been doing any flirting, especially not with Klavier. He’s been hiding his feelings far too well for that—right?

Klavier looks at him and shrugs, motioning with his head that they should retreat the way they’d arrived. It’s not necessarily the most dignified thing, climbing off a boat in shame after being reprimanded by the detective on the case.

Once they’re back on “solid” ground (as solid as one can call a fishing boat’s dock, anyway), Apollo turns to Klavier.

“So, what was that about? I’ve never seen her that angry.”

Interestingly enough, color rises to Klavier’s cheeks. “Well...I think that, perhaps, she’s...misinterpreting the situation?”

And if Klavier’s strange statement hadn’t been enough to tip Apollo off that maybe something strange is going on here, there’s the familiar pinch of warm metal against his left wrist, his bracelet constricting at the taller man’s fib.

And—they know each other well enough, by this point, that all Apollo has to do is level an unimpressed stare in the prosecutor’s direction, and deadpan “Klavier” with all the air of a man who is taking no bullshit for an answer, for him to deflate and give up, shoving a hand in his back pocket awkwardly.

“Ugh. Okay. Erm. So, HerrForehead, this wasn’t...exactly...unprovoked. It’s possible that FräuleinSkye has been on the receiving end of many conversations about how I would like to….uh…”

It’s quite something, seeing Klavier at a loss for words. Apollo hadn’t thought that the former rockstar could look as awkward as he does now, the hand not trapped in his pocket fiddling with a loose strand of his hair.

He really, really tries not to think about how endearing it is.

Klavier seems to have reached a point, however, where he’s just decided to say things and worry about the consequences later. So Apollo’s contemplations are brought to a screeching halt when the man sighs, flips his hair, and stares at him straight-on, enunciating with perfect clarity:

“Apollo Justice, would you like to go out with me? On a date? Because I must say, I’ve been trying to find the best way to ask you for a while now, but unfortunately all I’ve succeeded in doing is, apparently, annoying the FräuleinDetective until not even Snackoos are a valid enough weapon.”

And—this isn’t the setting Apollo had pictured, in his often-hastily-repressed daydreams about Klavier asking him out. For one, he’d not quite imagined the quantity of fish, or the less-than-steady footing. But Klavier looks so earnest about his request, and Apollo can’t deny the way his heart’s skipped a beat, the way he’s almost petrified to say anything just in case this isn’t real—and so, he takes a deep breath, steps forward, and twines his fingers with Klavier’s.

“You know what? I’d love to. I’ll go anywhere you’d like—with the exception of a sushi restaurant” Apollo smiles, hesitantly at first, and then more genuinely as he sees the softly disbelieving expression on Klavier’s face.

“Really?” the prosecutor asks, and isn’t that incredible—that Klavier Gavin had been worried about being turned down. Apollo can’t quite believe it himself, yet.

“Yeah, really,” he says, smiling up at Klavier, who beams down at him in return. He feels the other man squeeze his hand briefly, and can’t quite contain the impulse to lean in closer to him, consciously this time, sharing both warmth and physical contact in a meaningful way.

When they return to the fishing vessel, Ema takes one look at the two of them and narrows her eyes, proceeding to mime nausea at the way they’re still holding hands.

However, she does follow through on her promise—and by the time they’re ready to leave the crime scene, both Klavier and Apollo are fairly certain of the next day’s trial’s outcome—as well as of the location of their post-trial dinner date.

#lucy's thoughts #my writing #klapollo #thank you for the prompt!!#mogoliz #ask #asks #ask game #sorry these are taking me ages!!#you might have noticed that they keep getting away from me #also i am going to be on an island for five days starting tomorrow #so i will be very slow in answering the other two i've got sitting in my inbox #just know i am getting around to them!!#i will just have to write them out on paper rather than on a laptop #and then type them up later

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fey-family-reunion · 5 years ago

Text

Turnabout Toilet Brush

Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: Wrightworth, background Klapollo Wordcount: 12196

AO3 FFN

Summary: Phoenix, with no ulterior motives whatsoever, calls a meeting to resolve an office dispute. Apollo and Athena, meanwhile, try to solve a few office mysteries, like why Phoenix is suddenly so insistent on not using their powers in the workplace.

More importantly: who broke the damn toilet brush?

***

"I think we can all agree," Phoenix began, fingers steepled in front of his face, "that things have gotten out of hand."

The three of them had gathered around his desk, which he'd finally cleaned off for the occasion. Apollo and Athena slouched in front of the desk, both looking like sulky students who'd been called to the principal's office, while Phoenix had managed to maneuver the agency's best chair behind the desk for the first time in years. In the center of the desk's polished wooden surface sat one toilet brush, snapped in half at the handle.

Apollo glowered off to the side, arms folded across his chest, probably thinking nostalgically of the time he'd punched Phoenix in the face. Athena, meanwhile, looked perfectly calm, but Widget's worried expression and the way her fingers toyed with her ponytail told a different story. Neither said a word as Phoenix stared them down.

Fine, guess I'll have to move things along myself. Phoenix never liked having to bring out serious boss mode, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He drew the Magatama out of his pocket, placing it on the desk between them. "We need to talk about the use of powers in the office."

***

(One day earlier...)

"Mr. Wright, whose turn is it to clean the toilets?" Athena asked.

It was a slow morning for the agency. Apollo sat at his desk, concentrating hard on something on his computer that was almost certainly not work-related, while Athena lounged on one of the couches, flipping through a handful of court documents. Phoenix, meanwhile, relaxed on the other couch, enjoying coffee and quiet as he read through the morning's news.

"Apollo," Phoenix said, without looking up from his newspaper. He wasn't sure, but the answer was usually Apollo.

"What?" Apollo said, spinning around in his chair to face them. "No way! It was my turn last week!"

Phoenix sipped his coffee. "Oh, sorry. Must be Athena's."

Athena's cry of outrage was almost as loud as Apollo's chords of steel. "Wait, no! I definitely remember cleaning them last week! I was only asking so Apollo would remember to do his job!"

Phoenix shrugged. "I don't know, then. Does anyone know where the schedule is?"

"Trucy used it in another one of her magic tricks." Apollo groaned.

"Hey!" Trucy sat perched on top of Phoenix's desk, shuffling and reshuffling a pack of cards. She'd told Phoenix she wanted to learn more card tricks, and had been obsessively honing her technique ever since. "It's not my fault you wrote the schedule on the back of one of my props."

"You didn't have to burn it!" Apollo countered.

"I didn't know what it was! Your handwriting is terrible!" Trucy shuffled a little too vigorously, sending all her cards onto the floor. "Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about. I would never do fire tricks when Daddy told me specifically not to." She smiled winningly at Phoenix.

Nice save, Trucy.

Phoenix sent her a stern look intended to mean 'We'll talk about this later', but her smile just widened, and he shook his head. "We need more paper for this office, so we're not writing chore schedules on the back of Trucy's props. Could whoever's not cleaning the toilets go out and get some? I've got to get Trucy to school."

Athena leaped up, grabbing her bag. "Sure thing, boss! I'll head out right now!"

"Hey, wait," Apollo said, shoving himself out of the desk chair. "Since when did we decide it was my turn to clean the toilets?"

"Well, I guess we didn't, but it seems pretty likely," Athena said, flicking her earring.

"What? Why?!"

Phoenix winced. "Apollo, no chords of steel before noon, remember?"

"Well, Mr. Wright said he thought it was your turn first, didn't he?" Athena said. "And he'd probably know best. Anyway, I know I cleaned last week, so it's definitely not my turn."

Apollo pointed at Athena. "There!"

"Apollo," Phoenix repeated. "Please-"

Apollo grabbed the bracelet on his wrist, jerking his arm up toward Athena. "You're lying! You keep fidgeting with your hair when you say you cleaned last week!"

Athena folded her arms, regarding Apollo with a piercing look usually reserved for difficult witnesses. "Are you sure there isn't something causing you lots of anxiety about what you're saying?"

Apollo waved both hands at her. "Of course there is! I have a lot of anxiety about cleaning the toilets when it's not my turn!"

"I don't know," Athena said, rubbing her chin. "Are you sure you're not just feeling a lot of emotional discord because you're the one lying?"

"I'm not- Mr. Wright!"

Phoenix looked up. Both had turned to face him, and he knew what was coming. He sighed, setting down his paper, and wondered what Pearl and Maya would say if they knew the mundane things the Magatama was being used for these days.

Scratch that, they'd probably support it, if it meant this office got cleaned.

"I can't keep using the Magatama to settle office disputes," Phoenix said anyway, leaning forward.

Apollo folded his arms across his chest. "Fine, just this one time. Then we can remake the chore schedule, and stop fighting about this."

Athena mirrored Apollo's pose, jutting out her chin. It was eerie, sometimes, how many little habits they'd picked up from each other. "Yeah, Boss! Just tell us, who's really lying?"

"Alright," Phoenix said, drawing his Magatama out of his pocket. "Repeat after me: I cleaned the toilets last week."

"I cleaned the toilets last week," Athena said confidently.

"I cleaned the toilets last week," Apollo repeated, directing a glare at Athena.

Phoenix watched in amusement as chains appeared in the air along with two locks, one over Athena, and one over Apollo. He shook his head, not bothering to hide his grin. "You're both lying."

Athena's mouth dropped open. "What! But-"

"Fine, I'll go out and get some paper for you, Mr. Wright," Apollo said, darting toward the door.

"Wait!" Athena sprinted after him, blocking his exit with an arm across the doorway. "I already said I was going! It's your turn to clean the toilets!"

"No way, it's been my turn for the past three weeks!" Apollo said. "See you later!" He ducked under her arm, disappearing into the hall.

"Not if I see you first!" Athena called, sprinting after him.

Their shouts echoed down the hall before finally fading into blessed silence. Phoenix let out a contented sigh, taking a deep swig of his coffee and picking the paper back up. Apollo and Athena were both talented lawyers, valued employees, and very good friends, but both were far too loud in the morning.

"Hey, Daddy." Trucy popped up from behind his desk, clutching half of a deck of cards between her fingers. "You think they'll ever figure out that the schedule always vanishes before one of us has to take a turn?"

Phoenix chuckled. "Let them solve that mystery on their own. It's part of their training."

"You're the best, Daddy." Trucy placed the cards on the desk, and disappeared behind it again.

"Now about this fire trick..."

"Sorry, I can't hear you, I've got to pick up all these cards I dropped!" Trucy called, voice muffled by the desk. A hand came up and swiped at the cards on the desk, sending more on the floor. "Whoops, guess we'll have to talk about this later!"

Phoenix glanced up at the clock, and finished his coffee. "Leave those, Trucy, we've got to get you to school." We can talk more about your trick on the way.

***

"Okay, maybe we have gotten a little out of hand..." Athena began, fidgeting with her earring.

"A little out of hand?" Apollo raised his arm, indicated a bandaid on his forearm. "You almost shoved me down the stairs yesterday. I'm lucky to only have a scratch!"

"I'm sorry!" Athena said. "I didn't mean to, really! I didn't think you'd be so easy to push over!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Phoenix cleared his throat. "Regardless of how easy Apollo is to push over-"

"Come on, Mr. Wright!"

"-I think we need to stop using powers in the office," Phoenix said. "It's causing too many problems. I don't want to scare clients away because we're shouting at each other."

Athena leaned forward, gripping the armrests of her chair. "Well, hang on, Mr. Wright, it's not like my power is something I can just turn off! Plus, none of this would have happened if Apollo just admitted he didn't clean the toilets last week!"

Apollo sank back in his seat, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Can we forget about the toilets, please? I'm so sick of arguing about the damn toilets."

"Fine," Athena said. "Then admit you lied, and go clean them."

"He can't clean them," Phoenix said. When both of them looked at him, he gestured to the snapped toilet brush resting on the desk. "No one can."

Athena and Apollo looked down at the toilet brush, and up at him. Apollo sighed. "You're saying you think one of us broke the toilet brush so we wouldn't have to clean the toilets today?"

Phoenix shrugged, letting their minds do the work for them.

"Why isn't Trucy here?" Apollo said, voice rising. "She probably broke it for one of her magic tricks!"

"She's at school." Phoenix reminded him. "Trucy and I left the office together last night before you two left, and I dropped her off at school this morning and came here after you two arrived. Neither of us had an opportunity."

Apollo shook his head. "Mr. Wright, this is ridiculous. Just buy a new one. Can we get back to-"

"It was probably Apollo," Athena interjected. "He always gets so angry when we talk about cleaning the toilets. I bet he took the brush in a fit of murderous rage, and!" She mimed snapping the brush over her knee.

"You're the one with the freakish strength!" Apollo snapped.

Athena balled her fists. "Hey! That's not something you should say to a lady!"

"When I came in this morning, you were already here!" Apollo said, waving toward the rest of the office. "You could've broken it before I came in!"

"Yeah, well, when I left last night, you said you were working late! It's not like you have a client right now, what were you working late on, huh?"

And for some reason, that question made Apollo color. He sunk down in his seat, muttering something about 'reading up on the latest cases', and Phoenix turned his attention to him. This wasn't the point of the meeting, and he wasn't sure he had time for the detour, but it was intriguing.

"See!" Athena said triumphantly. "He's acting totally suspicious! I can hear it in his voice!"

Apollo sent a look of desperation at Phoenix. "Mr. Wright, weren't you just saying that we shouldn't use our powers on each other?"

"Uh..."

Athena crossed her arms. "Boss, isn't it suspicious that now Apollo's on board with this no powers thing? He's definitely got something to hide!"

Athena wasn't wrong. Phoenix was a little surprised that Apollo had suddenly jumped on board, given his insistence on using the Magatama yesterday to figure out who was on toilet duty. It didn't take a lot of thought, though, to understand what was going on. Apollo had very few secrets that made him turn that color.

Reading up on the latest cases indeed.

***

(Several weeks earlier...)

The first time Phoenix had seen Athena and Prosecutor Gavin interact was also the first time he'd worried about the practicality of cramming four lie detectors into one tiny office. Gavin had come by to discuss a detail on some old case with Apollo, and Phoenix had watched Athena carefully. He'd seen a few defense attorneys be too starstruck to stand against Gavin in court- it was one of the reasons Apollo was so well-matched with him- so it concerned him when the normally talkative Athena didn't say much while Gavin was in the room. Instead, she kept sneaking glances at him and Apollo.

It apparently concerned Gavin, too, because, after the usual three minutes of bickering with Apollo, he smiled at her. "Ah, I believe we've met before," he said, extending a hand to Athena. "Athena Cykes, was it not? Herr Forehead, where have you been hiding this lovely lady?"

Phoenix expected a blush, a slip of the tongue from Widget, a giggle, something, but instead, Athena just smiled brightly, shaking his hand. "It's good to see you again, Prosecutor Gavin!"

"You two already met?" Phoenix asked from across the room, and Apollo muttered something under his breath, glaring at nothing in particular.

Athena nodded. "Yep! During the Themis Academy trial!" With that, she and Gavin fell into such easy conversation together that Phoenix wondered if he'd imagined her previous shyness. By the end of the conversation, they'd discovered they'd both spent time in Germany, and were talking rapidly in German. Phoenix sent a bewildered glance at Apollo, but Apollo had returned to his desk, back to the room.

Finally, Gavin laughed. "You are too funny, Fräulein, but I'm afraid I've got a meeting to get to, and I can't keep Herr Edgeworth waiting. We must speak more of this later." He nodded at Phoenix. "Herr Wright. Herr Forehead."

"Yeah, bye," Apollo said shortly, digging a pen out of a desk drawer.

For a moment, Phoenix thought he saw a crease between Gavin's well-groomed eyebrows, but, with another easy grin, the man waved and left. Phoenix eyed Athena. She was smiling as she returned to her seat, but there was no longing sigh, no lovesick swoon, no pink cheeks. She did, however, catch Phoenix staring at her.

"What is it, boss?"

"Uh." Phoenix ran a hand through his hair. "I wanted to see how you reacted to him. You might have to face him in court someday. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't have any trouble because he's, you know..."

Athena shrugged, still smiling. "People are just people, Mr. Wright, even celebrities. I'm sure whenever I have to face him in court, I can take him on!" She punched one hand into her palm, striking a confident pose.

"Great," Phoenix said. "Apollo's faced him lots of times, he can give you some advice. Right, Apollo?" He was a bit concerned by how tightly Apollo was gripping his pen.

"Yeah," Apollo grumbled without turning around. "He's not actually German. He just pretends he is to impress girls."

Athena's smile didn't fade, but Widget turned an anxious blue. "Oh, he told me he wasn't German! He studied there for a while, right?"

If possible, Apollo's shoulders tensed even more, and Phoenix thought, if he squinted, he could make out a cloud of gloom over Apollo's head. Am I about to have to mediate my first-ever office dispute over Klavier Gavin, of all people?

He cleared his throat, trying to think of something halfway professional to say. Phoenix desperately wished Trucy or Edgeworth were here. Trucy was better at alleviating tension than he was, and much better at calming down Apollo when he got in one of his moods. Edgeworth, on the other hand, had no issues keeping a firm hand on the prosecutor's office, and his employees were more difficult than Apollo or Athena. Then again, Phoenix thought he'd rather die than ask Edgeworth's advice on something like this.

"Maybe we should talk about something else?" Phoenix suggested.

"You're right, boss. Besides, I got the feeling that I'm definitely not Prosecutor Gavin's type." Athena said, as if he hadn't spoken. "And he's definitely not my type. All that blonde hair, uck! I can't stand guys who are musicians!"

Phoenix blinked at her incredulously. Granted, Wright Anything Agency was never a professional environment at the best of times, but he got the feeling this was unprofessional, even for them. "Athena," he said slowly. "Let's not discuss the dateability of prosecutors at work."

Apollo spun around in his chair, arms folded. "Yeah, why'd you have to bring that up, huh? I don't care what you think about Prosecutor Gavin! What are you so defensive about?"

It didn't take special hearing to tell that Athena wasn't the defensive one here. Oh, no, Apollo.

"I'm sorry, I just thought that you two were-" Athena's eyes darted around the office, and she sank back into her seat. "I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Oh, no, Athena. "It's alright," Phoenix said, not wanting her to think she was in any real trouble. "Let's get back to work. Apollo, can you show Athena how to shelve evidence?"

"Hang on, what'd you think?"

Phoenix closed his eyes. Forget Trucy or Edgeworth, he needed to call Maya and have her channel Mia for this. She'd handled him when he was head-over-heels for Dahlia, she could handle whatever was going on here. "Apollo, please."

Apollo held up a hand. "No, this isn't about how dateable Prosecutor Gavin is, I promise. I don't care. I'm just curious. It's just casual conversation, Mr. Wright."

Doesn't sound like it. But he also didn't want Apollo to corner Athena about it later, when he couldn't intervene.

"Nothing," Athena said, clutching Widget. "I thought- nothing." Apollo narrowed his eyes, and she offered him a nervous smile. "I thought since you're his friend, you might try and set me up with him, and I wanted to let you know that I don't want that to happen."

"Really," Apollo said flatly, eyes flicking down to her hand on Widget.

"Nope!" Widget chirped. Athena winced, sinking further into her seat.

"Apollo, drop it," Phoenix said, passing a hand over his face.

Apollo turned his glare onto Phoenix. "Why do you want to end this conversation so badly, huh? Do you know what she's going to say?"

"No." Apollo gestured toward his bracelet, and Phoenix sighed. "Fine. I have a feeling it's going to be about Prosecutor Gavin's love life, and it's going to turn into an even longer conversation about Prosecutor Gavin's love life."

"It's okay, Boss, I'm trained for this," Athena said. "Maybe if I just get it all out in the open, we can move on."

Phoenix very much doubted that, but he also very much doubted that Apollo was ever going to let this go otherwise. He waved for Athena to speak.

"Well." Athena smiled at Apollo, her hand still clutching Widget. "You acted so grumpy around Prosecutor Gavin just now, but I could tell, under that emotion, you were really happy to see him. So I guess I just thought maybe you...like him more than you let on?"

Phoenix buried his face in his hands, waiting for the explosion. It apparently took a second for Athena's words to sink in.

"You think I like Prosecutor Gavin?!"

"Apollo!" Phoenix said. "Chords of steel!"

"I didn't say that!" Athena insisted. She waved her hands from side to side frantically, as if trying to clean an invisible slate. "All I said was that maybe you guys are better friends than how you act! I didn't mean it like, um, something romantic!"

"It's totally romantic!" Widget chirped.

Phoenix did his best to turn his laughter into a cough, but, judging by the furious look on Apollo's face, he didn't succeed. "Sorry, Apollo. I tried to warn you."

Apollo scoffed. "Oh, like you're one to talk, Mr. Wright!"

Phoenix drew himself back up to his full height. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"About being closer to prosecutors than you act?" Apollo said. Phoenix stared at him blankly. "About pretending you're just coworkers when there's something else going on?"

Phoenix shook his head, reaching for his coffee mug. He had an inkling of what Apollo was trying to say, but he and Edgeworth had always been open about their friendship with each other. They toned it down if they were interacting in a professional capacity, sure, but there was no acting or pretending going on. "I don't know what you're talking about, Apollo."

"Come on, Mr. Wright, everyone knows you and Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth are dating." Apollo said, and Phoenix gagged on his coffee."You two aren't even subtle about it. I don't know why you feel like you have to keep it a secret, nobody cares."

"What- but we're not- everyone?" Phoenix said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. They really weren't. Phoenix wouldn't deny that there'd been times over the years when he'd thought- but they really, really weren't. "Apollo, the chief prosecutor and I are very good friends who've known each other for a long time. We're not, and never have been, dating."

Apollo's face reddened, his eyes widening in horror. He glanced down at his bracelet, and back up at Phoenix. "You're really not?"

"No," Phoenix said shortly. This could be a funny story to tell Edgeworth later- or, more likely, another memory to throw deep into the box of 'things to forget about forever and never, ever bring up again'. "Who's, uh, everyone?"

"The entire prosecutor's office. Most of the police department." Apollo said, still looking like he'd seen a ghost. "And a few others- we thought you two just wanted to keep it private, so no one said anything. But-"

Phoenix set down his coffee cup, hard enough for hot liquid to splash onto his desk. "Apollo, could you show Athena how to shelve evidence? Please?"

"S-sure, Mr. Wright." Apollo nearly knocked over his chair as he stood. "Come on, Athena."

Athena got up much more slowly, lingering by Phoenix's desk as Apollo made his way to the door. "Um, Mr. Wright..." she began.

Phoenix looked up at her. "Yes?"

She directed an uncertain glance at Apollo, and Apollo shook his head. "Never mind. I'll shelve evidence really well, and no more talk about prosecutors, I promise." She saluted with a smile and followed Apollo out.

It's a good thing neither of them have a Magatama. Talk about locks on the heart.

"Shut up, Phoenix," Phoenix muttered to himself, wiping up the spilled coffee.

***

Phoenix considered his options, looking between Athena's furious glare and Apollo's desperate pleading. After a moment, he clasped his hands together in front of him. "I think Apollo is telling the truth about working late. I'm sure he has some side projects to work on."

It was an easy decision. Besides the fact that he had no desire to needle Apollo about something the kid was clearly sensitive about, calling him on that lie would set a dangerous precedent for the types of questions they could ask each other. The entire point of this whole conversation was respecting each other's privacy, after all.

Apollo grinned, sending a victorious finger toward Athena. "See? Mr. Wright believes me! Which means it was you who broke the toilet brush!"

Athena's mouth dropped open. "But-"

"But," Phoenix said, "no matter what Apollo was doing here, he still had an opportunity to commit the crime." Apollo's shoulders slumped, and Athena stuck out her tongue at him. "Both of you did. Unless either of you have any evidence to prove you didn't?"

Neither of his employees said a word. Apollo stared at the floor, and Athena crossed her arms, frowning.

Phoenix nodded, relieved to finally return to the point he was trying to make. "It doesn't matter who broke the toilet brush," he said. "We can buy a new one. What matters is that an argument got out of hand thanks to everyone using their powers, and-"

Apollo looked up. "What if I had a witness?"

Phoenix checked his watch. "Apollo, I don't care who broke the toilet brush. What matters is-"

"No, we're defense attorneys, right?" Apollo said, straightening. "Give me a chance to prove myself innocent."

Athena nodded. "Yeah, I wanna hear this. Because I sure didn't break the brush, so it must have been Apollo."

"We'll see about that." Apollo pulled out his phone. "I'll call him right now."

"Him?" Phoenix asked as Apollo dialed, and then he noticed the flush had returned to Apollo's cheeks. Oh, no, kid, I was trying to save you from having to do this.

"Here, I'll put it on speaker." Apollo pressed a button, and the sound of the call connecting blared into the office. He set the phone down next to the Magatama, and waited, arms folded, staring at it. Athena sent an uncertain glance at Phoenix before watching the phone, too. Phoenix, meanwhile, checked his watch again, wondering how things had gotten so off track.

As soon as the other line clicked, a smooth German voice filled the room. "Liebling, this is a nice surprise!" Klavier Gavin said. "I was just about to call you, I wanted to ask-"

Apollo leaned forward, arms still folded. "Prosecutor Gavin, you're on speakerphone."

"Ah." When Gavin spoke again, he sounded still sounded friendly, but it was an entirely different kind of warmth. "Who am I speaking to?"

"Hi, Prosecutor Gavin!" Athena called.

"Hi, Prosecutor Gavin," Phoenix echoed obediently. He had a very bad feeling about where this was headed.

"The entire agency!" Gavin said. "Only missing Fräulein Wright, of course. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I want you to clear something up for me," Apollo said. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. "When you dropped me off at home last night, we stopped by the office on the way back, yes?"

Athena immediately gasped, and slapped her hands over her mouth to silence herself. Phoenix sat back in his seat with a creak, watching Apollo. Even Gavin took a bewildered pause before replying.

"Uh, ja."

Apollo nodded, opening his eyes. "And when we stopped by the office, I gave you the key so you could let yourself in and use the restroom. Yes?"

"Ja," Gavin said. "I don't see where this is-"

"And when you were in the office, there was a toilet brush in there." Apollo continued, as insistent as if he were pressing a murder suspect. "Yes?"

Phoenix's bad feeling rapidly evolved into outright dread. There was no way Klavier Gavin of all people- and what had Apollo been doing with him in the first place-

"Ah, I don't know," Gavin said. "I wasn't looking for one. I'm not sure what we're talking about right now, Herr Forehead. Did something happen?"

"Did you or didn't you?" Athena snapped, leaning towards the phone.

"Excuse me?"

Athena fired off a rapid sentence in German, and Gavin responded in kind, sounding even more bewildered than before.

Phoenix shook his head. "It doesn't count as witness testimony if we have to take Athena's word for what you're saying."

"Sorry, Herr Wright," Gavin said. "I was just telling Fräulein Cykes that I believe I remember seeing a toilet brush when I stopped by the office. Is that...all you called about?"

"One more thing."

Gavin's voice brightened. "Yes, Herr Forehead?"

"When you saw the toilet brush," Apollo said, leaning forward, "was the handle broken?"

Apollo and Athena stared at the phone, both looking like they'd forgotten how to breathe. Phoenix, meanwhile, began mentally calculating the timing of last night's events. There was no way- was there?

"Nein," Gavin said. "It was a toilet brush."

The effect on the room was instantaneous. Apollo grinned, relaxing back into his chair, and Athena tensed, balling her hands into fists. "I didn't do it!" she snapped. "Apollo still could have done it! What about when he let Prosecutor Gavin in, huh?"

"Would one of you please tell me what is going on?"

"Someone broke our toilet brush to get out of cleaning duty," Apollo said. "We're trying to figure out who it was. Whoever did it has to clean this week."

Phoenix, in the middle of trying to figure out when, exactly, Apollo and Gavin had dropped by the office, flinched. "Hey, punishment was never on the table!"

"Sure it is!" Athena said, slamming her fist into her palm. "Apollo broke the brush and I'm gonna make him pay for it!"

"A noble cause," Gavin said. "I'm happy to help, then. I asked Herr Forehead to assist me with an investigation last night, as he is not related to the case, and much better at reading people than I. We left your office around six-thirty pm, and returned around ten, on the way to his apartment. I, ah, needed to use your facilities, so Herr Forehead lent me the key and I let myself in. He stayed with the bike the whole time."

"Ooh, where'd you guys go?" Athena asked, apparently unable to resist herself.

"A restaurant, and then a bar," Gavin said. "...It was a long investigation."

"That's irrelevant!" Apollo said forcefully, jabbing a finger at the phone. "What matters here is that I have a witness who can vouch that the toilet brush wasn't broken after I left the office at six-thirty. And as Prosecutor Gavin said, I was with his motorcycle the entire time he was in the office at ten. He was carrying my key at the time, so there was no way I could have gotten in without him knowing. Therefore I'm not the culprit, so it has to be Athena!"

Athena was gaping at him. "You two rode on his motorcycle?"

"Don't worry, Fräulein, Klavier Gavin does not drive drunk."

Apollo nodded vigorously. "Especially because it was an investigation. We would never drink on an investigation. Right, Prosecutor Gavin?"

"Boss, come on, they're totally lying!" Athena said, turning to him. "Prosecutor Gavin's got to be a biased witness, listen to them! This has to be a conflict of interest- boss?"

Phoenix blinked, shaking himself out of his stupor, to find both Apollo and Athena staring at him. He offered a smile. "Um, yeah, that's probably right."

"Boss, are you even listening?"

It wasn't possible. There was no way. Years ago, Klavier Gavin had, admittedly without knowing the full story, ruined Phoenix's life, and now here he was, about to do it all over again.

Not all over again. Isn't that a little melodramatic, Wright?

Apollo's eyes narrowed, and he leaned back toward the phone. "Kla- uh- Gavin, did you notice anything else strange when you were in the office? Anything that wasn't there when you picked me up?"

"Now that you mention it, I did," Gavin said. "The lights were on, and I'm sure we turned them off when we left. I remember seeing a wine bottle and two wine glasses on the coffee table, too. I'm sure they weren't there before, or I would have suggested we take the wine on our investigation." He hummed thoughtfully. "The bottle was empty, though. Schade."

Nope, not melodramatic, he's ruined my life. Again.

"Thank you, Prosecutor Gavin, that's all I need," Apollo said, picking the phone off of the table. "I'll call you later about the, uh, investigation."

"Happy to help, liebling."

Athena was apparently too engrossed in this revelation to react to what Phoenix was sure was a pet name. "But there wasn't a wine bottle here when I came in this morning!"

"I figured," Apollo said, tucking his phone in his pocket. He aimed his stare towards Phoenix. "Which means someone else must have been in here last night."

It took all of Phoenix's training from years of poker to hold Apollo's gaze. "Isn't this irrelevant?" he asked. "Prosecutor Gavin said the toilet brush wasn't broken when he left. Maybe someone else came in beforehand for unrelated reasons."

"But if the wine bottle and glasses were gone when I came in, someone must have cleaned them up after Prosecutor Gavin left!" Athena said. "They could've broken the brush then!"

"And that someone had to have a key." Apollo stared Phoenix down. "I don't remember any signs of a break-in."

Athena nodded, tapping her chin. "Plus, that'd be a really weird break-in. I feel like some of Trucy's props would be worth more than a wine bottle and some glasses. And why would they snap a toilet brush?"

"Why indeed," Apollo said, elbowing Athena. Athena followed his gaze to Phoenix, and narrowed her eyes.

Struck by the glares of both of his subordinates, Phoenix felt sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He quickly considered his lines of defense.

Accuse Gavin of breaking the brush? Nope, he has no motive, and no real reason to lie about it.

Blame the wine and broken brush on Athena? Too obvious a lie, it wouldn't take much to discredit it. Athena's not old enough to buy alcohol.

Give up and admit the truth? Can't do that.

Redirect their attention?

Phoenix cleared his throat. "The broken brush wasn't actually what I wanted to talk to you about-"

"Boo!" Athena said, grabbing a handful of Trucy's scattered cards and throwing them at him. They sailed a few inches through the air before fluttering onto the desk.

"Yeah, that's not fair!" Apollo said. "You let us think one of us did it!"

Phoenix chose his words carefully, trying to keep his expression and movements still, his errant emotions under control."I never said I was the one who broke it."

"I can tell you're trying to talk like a robot, Mr. Wright!" Athena said.

Redirect, redirect. Keep them from asking the important questions.

"Fine," Phoenix said, with a tiny sigh. "I'm responsible for the broken toilet brush. I was hoping to avoid the punishment of, what was it, one week of toilet duty?"

"One month." Athena corrected.

Apollo shook his head. "Two months."

Phoenix, despite knowing there were more important things to discuss, rubbing the back of his head, smiling. "Hey, we never agreed there had to be a punishment at all, did we? I never agreed to that."

Apollo returned his smile. "Let's take an office vote, then. Majority rules?"

"We're getting off track," Phoenix said. When Apollo and Athena protested, he raised a hand. "Fine, I'll buy a new brush and clean the toilets for the next two months. Like I said, that wasn't the important part of this meeting." He took a moment to gage their reactions- both still looked furious, but they were listening to what he had to say. "We need to stop using powers in the office. I'm sure neither of you-" he sent a significant glance at Apollo- "want us prying into your personal lives, and we can't keep using them for office disputes. It escalates things until we end up pushing each other down the stairs."

Apollo's gaze had drifted to the floor as soon as Phoenix said 'personal lives'. Athena, however, was frowning, looking as though she were already preparing an objection.

"I know you two and Trucy can't turn them off like I can," Phoenix said, gesturing toward the Magatama. "But maybe we can try not to focus or, uh, listen too hard when we're having everyday conversations with each other, and not bring up anything weird you see or hear unless it has to do with a case. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Yes, boss," Athena said.

"Yes, Mr. Wright." Apollo echoed, not looking up.

"Great!" Phoenix checked his watch again. Somehow, he'd managed to get his point across in just enough time. He stood, hastily maneuvering his way around the desk and toward his bag on the coffee table. "Good work today, everyone! I'll see you both tomorrow!"

"Hold it!"

Phoenix turned back around. Apollo stood, holding the Magatama out toward him, determination in his eyes.

Phoenix forced a smile, reaching for it. "Thanks, Polly. Maya would've killed me if I lost it."

"Just one more thing, Mr. Wright," Apollo said, jerking it out of Phoenix's grasp. "If we're going to sentence you to two months of toilet duty, we need to make sure you're actually guilty."

Phoenix reached for the Magatama again, and Apollo dodged backward. Fine, kid. You want to play hardball? I learned hardball years ago, from the Nickel Samurai, no less. "I wasn't lying earlier," he said. "I'm responsible for the brush being broken. Apollo, don't you have your bracelet for this? Give me the Magatama, please."

Athena's eyes narrowed, and she swiped the Magatama out of Apollo's hand before Phoenix could take it. "Wait, boss. Did you really break the brush?"

Phoenix sighed. "Didn't I already answer that? Listen, you two, I have someplace I need to be, so-"

Athena traded an uncertain glance with Apollo, but she didn't let go of the Magatama. "Did you actually break it, though?"

"I don't know why you keep asking me that," Phoenix said, shaking his head. "Only the three of us have keys to the office. Was it you, Athena?"

"No!"

"Apollo?"

"No, but..."

Phoenix shrugged, not saying aloud the obvious conclusion.

"But he's acting so weird!" Athena whispered to Apollo. "His emotions are all over the place!"

Apollo took the Magatama from Athena, eyeing Phoenix thoughtfully. "Mr. Wright, how did you break it?"

"I had too much to drink." Definitely true. "It was an accident." Also true, at least as far as I know. He checked his watch again, making a show of it this time. "Apollo, can I have the Magatama back, please? I really need to go."

He could tell Athena's resolve was wavering, her don't-upset-the-boss instincts kicking in. Apollo had known Phoenix since long before he deserved to be called anyone's boss, but there was clear hesitation in his eyes. Phoenix held out his hand, waiting.

I could just run, he thought, but then they'd just ambush me tomorrow morning, and I'd look even more suspicious. Better deal with this now.

"Apollo," Phoenix repeated, using his best serious boss voice. "Arguments like these are why I wanted to ban the use of powers in the office. We-"

He could tell the exact moment the locks appeared. Apollo's mouth dropped open, his eyes tracing invisible chains through the air around Phoenix. Phoenix's stomach sank as Apollo clenched the Magatama more tightly in his hand, and Apollo met Phoenix's eyes, resolve strengthening.

Apparently that one was a stretch even for the Magatama. Goddammit, I was so close-

"Mr. Wright," Apollo began, "why do you really want to ban the use of powers in the office?"

Phoenix groaned. "Apollo, please."

Apollo shook his head, although his serious expression had melted into something amused. "This is a major change in office policy, Mr. Wright. I think all of your employees deserve transparency for why it's being established."

"Yeah!" Athena said, balling her fists. "Plus, you just spent the last thirty minutes trying to frame us for breaking that brush, and I wanna know why!"

Phoenix opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again, mind blank of anything to say besides the truth. Clearly, the Magatama wasn't going to let him get away with much here, and even half-truth-half-lies about the subject would be damning.

I could really use a miracle about now, he thought. Anything to distract them so I can run, and call in sick until they forget we had this conversation. A flock of birds could fly in the window! A hurricane could level the building! Trucy could leap out of the desk as part of an elaborate magic trick! She'd...never let this go, but still, anything!

Someone knocked on the door, and all three of them jumped. "I'll get it!" Athena called brightly, moving past Phoenix toward the door, and Phoenix's shoulders sagged in relief. Then, he checked his watch again. His worst suspicions were confirmed when he heard the familiar voice greeting Athena.

...Anything but that.

"Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth!" Athena said, backing up to let Miles into the room. Her pleasant smile was undercut by Widget's anxious frown- Phoenix had always suspected she and Apollo were intimidated by Edgeworth. "What brings you here?"

Miles's gaze swept the room before landing on Phoenix. "I trust you are ready to go, Wright? I was expecting you outside." He turned to Athena. "Your boss and I have a business meeting to attend tonight, but it seems he's forgotten-"

Apollo let out a high-pitched yelp, and the Magatama clattered to the floor. He clapped his hands over his mouth as Athena and Miles stared at him.

Phoenix smiled tiredly, bending down to pick up the Magatama. "Punctual as always, Edgeworth."

***

(Last night...)

"You cannot be serious, Wright," Miles said from the couch.

Phoenix grinned down at him. He struck a pose, one foot up on the coffee table, with the toilet brush jutted out in front of him like a sword. "I thought I did a good job reenacting it."

Miles pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his other hand struggling to keep his glass of wine upright. "You cannot expect me to believe that your subordinates began fencing over whose turn it was to perform a chore. Clearly, your daughter's penchant for showmanship has rubbed off on you." He was chuckling, though, a rare sound even these days, and it, more than the wine, warmed Phoenix from head to toe.

Phoenix hopped down, setting the brush down on the table. "Just because your subordinates never do it...besides Blackquill, I guess." He grabbed his glass of wine and fell back onto the other couch.

Miles replaced his glasses, fixing Phoenix with an unimpressed stare. "If this is how the Wright Anything Agency functions, it is no wonder your trials are always so haphazard and-"

"What are we celebrating tonight, again?" Phoenix asked, raising his wine glass toward Miles.

Miles sighed. "You're absurd."

"That's what I thought."

It'd been too long since Phoenix had a night like this. He and Miles had gone out for their usual weekly dinner, and had their usual pleasant time discussing the antics of their respective subordinates. The evening had taken a different turn, however, when Miles presented him with a bottle of wine in celebration of closing a particularly ugly case, and Phoenix had suggested they open it for their usual one-drink nightcap at the Wright Anything Agency office. At some point, one drink had turned into 'just one more', and from there into 'we might as well finish off the bottle', and now, after a steady two hours of drinking, the only wine not yet consumed was in Phoenix and Miles's half-full wine glasses.

Phoenix hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time, and, judging by the way Miles slouched back into the couch cushions, he wasn't the only one.

"Whose turn was it last week, then?" Miles asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"What?"

"To clean the..." He gestured vaguely towards the office restrooms.

Phoenix blinked. "Does it matter?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "It's an interesting puzzle, Wright, that's all. They were both lying, and you and your daughter apparently are never on the schedule."

"I'm surprised you can't figure it out."

"Of course I can. You know, then?"

Phoenix nodded, smiling patiently. "You want the solution?"

"Truthfully, I don't care enough to work it out," Miles said with a beleaguered sigh.

Phoenix took that to mean, Give me a hint. "One of them wasn't lying. At least, not completely. It was their turn, but they didn't do their job."

"Forgetfulness?" Miles said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. They seemed determined to slide off his face. "Or spite? Ms. Cykes seems more likely to have forgotten, but Mr. Justice has been quite bitter in the past about the chores you assign him, if I recall."

Phoenix shrugged. "What do you think?"

"From as much as I can trust your melodramatic recollection, Ms. Cykes seemed shocked to discover both of them were lying, while Mr. Justice did not. My assumption then is either Ms. Cykes didn't realize she forgot until that very moment, or that she was aware it was Mr. Justice's turn and was surprised to hear he didn't perform his duties. Mr. Justice must have known either way-"

"You can call them Apollo and Athena, you know," Phoenix said. "You're tipsy, and you've definitely spoken with them enough."

"As I was saying, Wright," Miles continued. "If Mr. Justice truly was not surprised, then I can only assume he knew neither he nor Ms. Cykes performed their duties. Therefore it was his turn, not Ms. Cykes', last week, and he didn't do as he was told." He sipped his glass slowly, eyes unfocused. "I can't comprehend why either would get your Magatama involved, however."

Phoenix shrugged. "Because asking me not to use it would be the same thing as admitting they were lying, wouldn't it? Apollo was the one who insisted on it. Maybe he was hoping Athena would crack under the pressure and admit she was lying first, or maybe he just wanted to drag her down with him."

"Your office sounds like a nightmare, Wright."

"We don't have any hawks," Phoenix said. He shuddered. "Or Paynes."

"I would take Taka any day over the amount of interpersonal meddling and gossip that appears to go on at the Wright Anything Agency."

Phoenix snorted. "Like the prosecutor's office never has any gossip."

"Of course not. We're professionals." Miles drained his wine glass and set it on the table beside the bottle. "We know how to stay out of each other's personal lives."

"Oh, really," Phoenix said, smirking. "Come on, Edgeworth, I know for a fact that-"

Wait, I don't want to talk about this, what am I doing?

It was too late. Miles was already watching him curiously over the rims of his glasses. "You've heard gossip from the prosecutor's office?"

"Uh..."

It'd been weeks, and he still hadn't forgotten the rumor Apollo had told him about him and Edgeworth. Maya had always teased him for being too easy to read, but, up until that conversation, Phoenix had thought he'd managed to keep that particular secret more or less under wraps. If everyone in the legal system believed this rumor, then Miles had to know, right? And if Miles knew, then he clearly didn't want to talk about it, or he would have brought it up already. And if he didn't know-

"Is something the matter, Wright?"

Phoenix tilted his head back, finishing off the rest of the wine, and set his wine glass on the table. "Nope."

"If you've heard rumors about me, I can assure you that does not affect me in the slightest," Miles said, gaze drifting to Phoenix's empty wine glass. "As I'm sure you're aware, I've dealt with rumors for most of my career."

Phoenix closed his eyes, remembering a time where rumors had greatly affected Edgeworth. "They weren't about you." he began, before realizing that the obvious lie would confirm Miles's worst suspicions. "Well, they were, but it wasn't anything...bad."

"And?"

Phoenix opened his eyes. Miles was watching him, face impassive. Phoenix fidgeted in his seat, scratching the back of his head. "It's not anything mean, either. It's, uh..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. "Hey, Edgeworth, you won't fire anybody over this, will you?"

"Of course not," Miles said dismissively. "I told you, I don't care about rumors. What is it that has you so rattled?"

"Rattled? Me?"

"Wright." Miles shook his head, smiling. "You look like you just realized your accused has run off with all of your evidence."

Phoenix, about to run a hand through his hair, clenched his hand into a fist in his lap. "It's a silly rumor. The entire prosecutor's office apparently thinks we're, uh, secretly lovers."

Lovers? Where'd that word come from?

Miles's face didn't change, but he picked up his empty wine glass. "The entire prosecutor's office."

Phoenix nodded. "And most of the police department. And a few others. Apollo said we're, uh, not subtle about it." He forced a laugh. "Isn't that funny?"

Miles's expression still hadn't changed. "You have an odd sense of humor, Wright." He brought his wine glass to his lips, and blinked down at it, confused.

"It's empty," Phoenix offered.

"I am aware." Miles cleared his throat, pushing himself to his feet. "Would you like to go for a walk? I think we could both use a clear head."

"Yeah, sure." Anything to end this conversation.

They locked up and wobbled their way down the stairs, only a little unsteady on their feet after the past couple hours of slow drinking. The cool air of the street outside was a relief, although Phoenix no longer had the excuse of the too-warm office for the flush on his face. As soon as they left, Miles strode ahead of him, headed in no particular direction, and Phoenix had to jog to catch up.

"Whoa, hang on!" he called, and Miles slowed slightly. "What, did you miss your cardio this morning?"

Miles gave him a withering look that Phoenix wasn't entirely sure he deserved. "Wright, you are out of shape."

"I've also been drinking." Phoenix pointed out. "Not all of us have your inhuman tolerance." Miles didn't respond, and Phoenix shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, where are we going?"

"I thought it might be nice to walk around your neighborhood." Miles adjusted his glasses, not looking at Phoenix. "I admit I haven't seen much of it in all the times I've visited. Is there anything of interest around here?"

"Uh..." Phoenix checked his watch. "Not at...ten at night, there isn't."

An uncomfortable silence followed as they passed underneath a streetlight. Phoenix glanced at Miles and, for a second, thought he made out panic in his expression. He cleared his throat. "Trucy's old elementary school is near here. It's not really a landmark, but-"

The creases in Miles's forehead smoothed out immediately, his shoulders relaxing. "Lead the way."

As they followed a route Phoenix and Trucy had walked hundreds of times, Phoenix didn't ask why they were visiting his daughter's elementary school in the middle of the night. He didn't ask why they were going for a walk in the first place. He was so busy not asking that he didn't hear the roar of the incoming vehicle right as they were about to cross the street.

He did, however, feel Miles' arm, thrust across his chest before he could step forward. "Careful, Phoenix!" Miles snapped, and the use of his first name snapped Phoenix out of his thoughts just in time to see a motorcycle speed by, a few yards ahead of him.

Phoenix looked down at the arm across his chest, and up at Miles, who was glaring down the street after the bike. Miles muttered something irritated under his breath.

"Hey, it's okay, Miles, people are always flying down this street," Phoenix said. "Thanks, though."

Miles studied him for a second, a mix of several emotions present on his face, and Phoenix raised his eyebrows. After a second, Miles's eyes widened in realization. "It was the best way to get your attention, Wright," he said. "You were lost in thought. You should have been watching the road."

"Sure, Miles," Phoenix said, with a rush of courage he attributed to the wine. He made an exaggerated show of looking both ways before crossing the street. "Trucy's school is just up here, come on."

Trucy's school was much more rundown than he remembered. The playground appeared to have been redone, though, with a few new death traps dotted around a mulched field that he was sure wasn't there before. Then again, he was getting old, as Trucy often reminded him. He walked up to the chainlink fence, intertwining his fingers around the metal, and heard Miles's footsteps as the other man came to a stop beside him.

Miles cleared his throat. "This is it?"

Phoenix nodded. "They've added a few things, but this is it." He pointed. "There's the swingset where she broke her wrist trying to prove she could fly. Those are the monkey bars she spent two weeks trying to master. She nearly broke her wrist again." He shook his head, not even bothering to keep the fondness out of his voice. "She's a stubborn kid."

"I can't imagine where she gets it from," Miles said, apparently not trying too hard to keep the fondness out of his voice, either. "As I recall, the monkey bars took you four weeks." He smiled at Phoenix, his first smile since Phoenix mentioned the rumors, and something fluttered in Phoenix's chest.

Phoenix laughed, looking away. The question of why they were visiting Trucy's old school at ten at night was growing into a larger question, one he'd kept at the back of his mind for years, only braving when he was tired or tipsy. Like now. "Uh, Edgeworth." Phoenix tightened his grip on the chainlink fence. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, with the..."

"I told you, Wright, I do not concern myself with the rumors of my subordinates." Miles's smile vanished, though, and the crease had reappeared in his forehead.

"Right." Phoenix, later, didn't know what made him decide to keep going, although it was probably that smile. "It's weird, isn't it, though?"

"What is?"

"What Apollo said." Phoenix kept his eyes trained forward, on some kind of spiral-shaped contraption that looked like an injury waiting to happen. "That we aren't subtle about it."

The ensuing silence was so long that Phoenix began idly daydreaming about going back to school, getting a physics degree, burying himself in research, and inventing time travel to prevent this conversation from ever happening. He didn't look over at Miles. He didn't want to see the expression on the other man's face. If he'd just upset a decades-long friendship, he wanted a few more moments of blissful ignorance before having to face that fact.

"Wright," Miles said, slowly. "Are you suggesting something?"

Phoenix wished Miles had gotten easier to read over the years. "I don't know," he said. "What would you say if I were?"

Miles eyed him, not responding.

Dr. Wright has a nice ring to it. They make people with PhDs in physics doctors, right? And Trucy would probably love time travel, I bet she could use it for magic tricks-

"Wright, look at me."

Reluctantly, Phoenix met his eyes. "Listen, Edgeworth, you don't have to let me down easy. We can pretend this conversation didn't happen. I don't-"

"Wright-"

"-want to make you uncomfortable. I can stay away from the prosecutor's office until the rumors-"

"Phoenix, for once in your life, would you listen to me?" Miles snapped.

Phoenix shut his mouth, but Miles didn't speak, scowling down the street at nothing in particular. "Okay," Phoenix said, carefully. "What do you want to say?"

"I..."

It happened in an instant. One moment, Miles was staring down the street, hand gripping his elbow in a familiar gesture, and in the next, Miles had stepped closer, his hands on Phoenix's shoulders, his face close to Phoenix's own, and-

What the-

Phoenix, shocked, took a step back, and Miles pulled away. For a beat, Phoenix tried to figure out what exactly had just happened, while Miles curled up into himself.

"Wright," Miles said. "Please tell me I didn't misinterpret-"

Phoenix quickly closed the distance between them and kissed him, letting go of the chain link fence to card his fingers through Miles's hair. It took Miles a moment to respond, but he did, with enthusiasm. The kiss was clumsy, fumbling, and tasted strongly of wine, but when Phoenix pulled away, he couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"You didn't misinterpret anything, Miles," Phoenix said, a bit breathlessly.

Miles looked vaguely gobsmacked, as though he'd just been told Franziska had quit criminal law to become a daycare teacher. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I see."

They kissed seven more times on the walk back to the building, three more times on the stairs up to the office, and once more by the door, not that Phoenix was counting. As soon as they were inside with the door closed behind them, the kissing became something much more distracting, and either both were drunker than they thought, or the phrase 'drunk on love' really held water, because neither noticed the coffee table behind them until Miles stumbled and fell back onto it with a loud crack.

"Ow," he said, sprawled on top of the table.

Phoenix stifled a laugh as he offered a hand to help Miles up. "Are you okay?"

Miles took Phoenix's hand, standing, and rubbed his back. "I"m fine." He looked down at the table. "I don't know about your table, though."

His fall had knocked the- thankfully empty- wine bottle and glasses onto the floor, and Phoenix gathered them up. The drinkware was unbroken, and the table appeared fine, too. "It's alright. No harm done," Phoenix said, carrying the wine bottle over to the office's recycling bin.

Miles bent over, picking up half of the toilet brush off of the ground. "What about this?"

Phoenix groaned as he discarded the bottle and took the wine glasses to the sink. "Apollo and Athena are going to have your head for that. There's been enough fighting about that toilet brush as is."

Miles's eyes widened. "You're planning on informing them?"

"You want to keep this a secret?" Phoenix asked. He turned on the faucet and ran water over the wine glasses, watching as the last traces of wine swirled down the drain in thin red trails.

"Whenever we do tell people," Miles began, picking up the other half of the toilet brush, "I have a feeling we're going to have to fill out a lot of paperwork. Of course, we will do nothing unethical beforehand, but I feel it would be best to get our footing before telling others. Don't you?"

Phoenix placed the wine glasses back in the cabinet and wiped his hands on the dishrag. He could already imagine the reactions from his own employees if word got out that he and Miles were, actually, dating. "Yeah, I get it. I'll make up some story for the toilet brush, I won't tell them you came by tonight."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "I know your employees have certain gifts..."

"I'll come up with something," Phoenix said, taking the broken toilet brush from Miles. "I've been meaning to get them to tone down using powers in the office, anyway." He examined the two halves. "Actually, this might be the perfect excuse."

"I don't follow."

"Don't worry about it, just help me clean up." Phoenix grinned, placing the broken brush on the table. "I'll take care of everything. They'll never even know we were here."

***

Looking back, Phoenix should've known the motorcycle that almost ran him down belonged to Klavier Gavin, on his way to the Wright Anything Agency. It was exactly the sort of coincidence that always happened to him. Franziska Von Karma had once said that she didn't know if Phoenix was lucky or unlucky. Phoenix didn't know either, but, going by the events of the past twenty-four hours, his suspicions leaned heavily toward the 'unlucky' category.

(Although he supposed he'd gotten lucky where it counted- having such ridiculous people in his life in the first place.)

***

Apollo's wide eyes darted between Phoenix and Miles, hands still clapped over his mouth. Miles sent him a quizzical look and nodded at Phoenix. "Shall we go?"

"Uh, yeah," Phoenix said. As he stepped forward to join Miles at the door, he tilted his hand so Miles could clearly see him putting the Magatama in his pocket. Come on, Miles, catch on, we can't lie to them, they suspect too much already.

"Wait!" Athena said. "What's going on? Apollo, why are you making that face?"

Apollo lowered his hands. "I'm not making any faces! This is just my face!" His voice was audibly shaking, though, and Athena's eyes narrowed.

"What's happening right now? What did you see with the Magatama?"

At the mention of the Magatama, Phoenix felt Miles tense beside him. "Wright, what exactly have you and your subordinates been discussing?" he muttered.

Phoenix closed his eyes. "It's a long story. Everything got kind of out of hand-"

"And you two!" Athena whirled, pointing at them. "I can hear you whispering! Mr. Wright, I know you're hiding something! You still haven't told us why you want to ban powers in the office!"

Apollo rubbed his forehead. "Trust me, Athena, you don't want to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Phoenix cleared his throat. "Look, the chief prosecutor and I really need to be going." He grabbed Miles' arm, spinning him around toward the door. "Come on."

Miles allowed himself to be led out into the hallway. "What happened in there?" he said under his breath. "It didn't go well?"

"What do you think?"

"Hold it!"

Phoenix turned around, just before they reached the stairs. Athena stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other pointed toward them. Behind her, Apollo had buried his face in his hands again.

Phoenix smiled. "I'm sorry, Athena, we've don't have time for this."

"But..." Athena glanced back helplessly at Apollo behind her. He still looked as though he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "But you're lying! I know you are!"

"Daddy's lying?"

Phoenix stifled a groan as Trucy appeared at the bottom of the stairs, backpack slung over her shoulders. She took the stairs two at a time. "What are you lying about, Daddy?"

"Hey, Trucy," Phoenix said, letting go of Miles to hug her. "How was school?"

Trucy pulled back with a smile on her face. "It was great! What are you lying about, Daddy?"

"The toilet brush!" Athena strode forward into the hallway, a look of determination on her face. "Somebody broke it last night, and your dad knows something about it, and he won't tell us!"

"I told you, Athena, I broke the-"

"Last night?" Trucy repeated, and then comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh. Oh." Her eyes became impossibly wide as she looked at Miles and Phoenix standing next to each other, Miles staring pointedly toward the wall. "Oh!"

"What?" Athena asked.

"Nothing!" Trucy said, although the giant grin on her face said otherwise. She hugged Phoenix again, and then turned and threw her arms around Miles for good measure. He stiffened, but returned the hug. "I just- had a really good day at school, that's all!" She gave Phoenix another hug. "A really, really good day!"

Wait, how did Trucy figure us out? Has she been expecting this?

Athena was watching the whole exchange open-mouthed, one hand over Widget. She glanced down at her necklace, as if trying to confirm what she was hearing, and back up at the trio on the top of the stairs. "What's...what's going on?"

"Mr. Wright, please, can we just tell her?" Apollo said, emerging from his hands. "She's going to interrogate me and Trucy the moment you leave."

Phoenix glanced over at Miles. Miles nodded, and Phoenix took his hand. "Athena," he said. "We were hoping to keep it quiet, but Edgeworth and I are headed out on a, uh, date."

He expected Athena's gasp, Trucy's noise of delight, and Apollo's groan. He did not, however, expect a smooth German voice to say "Really?" behind him.

"Oh, for God's sake," Miles muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they turned to greet the new intruder. Klavier Gavin stood at the bottom of the stairs, open-mouthed, carrying what looked suspiciously like a new toilet brush under one arm- a toilet brush with a rather ostentatious bow on its handle.

"Prosecutor Gavin," Miles said coolly.

"Herr Edgeworth," Gavin said, look of shock melting into a smile. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was simply making a social call."

Miles's gaze flicked down to the brush, and back up to Gavin's face. "Indeed."

"Did you buy us a new toilet brush?" Trucy said, bouncing down the stairs.

Gavin's eyes were still on Miles. "Uh...ja."

Apollo appeared at Phoenix's elbow, making him flinch. "You did what?"

"Herr Forehead!" Gavin raised the toilet brush in some kind of toast. "To assist you with all of your future toilet-cleaning duties!" His eyes darted around the group, who were all staring at him. "It was, ah, intended to be a joke. I was not expecting..." He gestured vaguely towards Phoenix and Miles. "...everyone to be here."

"Apollo won't be doing toilet duty for a while, though!" Athena said, stepping up beside Apollo. "Mr. Wright confessed to breaking the brush, so he's got two months of toilet duty, although he's still acting weird about it."

She shot him a glare, and he groaned. "Athena..."

"Two months?" Miles mouthed.

"What?" Athena said. "It's great that you and, um, the chief prosecutor are, um, dating, but I still don't get where all the emotional discord in your voice came from! Did you actually break the brush?"

Gavin raised his eyebrows. "That mystery still isn't solved?"

"The mystery isn't solved because it doesn't need to be solved," Apollo said, folding his arms. "Mr. Wright had too much wine, and he broke the brush. That's all there is to it."

Athena gasped. "Wait, but the wine! The two glasses! There was someone else there! Maybe-" Her gaze turned to Miles, and Widget's expression rapidly cycled through shock and fear. "Oh, um, never mind. You're right, Apollo. Mr. Wright broke it. He has to clean the toilets for two months."

"Oh, crap!" Widget added.

Miles began to laugh.

It was such an unexpected sound that even Phoenix stared at him. For a long moment, no one spoke, and Miles kept laughing, hand over his mouth. Eventually, he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes, and cleared his throat. When he spoke, his tone was businesslike again, although he hadn't stopped smirking. "Phoenix, while I was not aware there was a punishment at the time of the crime-"

"Neither was I," Phoenix muttered, shooting a glare at Athena and Apollo.

"-nevertheless, it would be a shame for you to serve the sentence for a crime you didn't commit. Justice must be done. If you like, I can take the punishment instead."

The hallway went dead silent again as, Phoenix assumed, they all tried to picture the dignified chief prosecutor on his knees scrubbing a toilet. Phoenix grinned. "We can negotiate, Miles. It was partially my fault, anyway."

"Gross!" Apollo burst out.

"I didn't mean..." Phoenix shook his head, resigning himself to whatever assumptions the other members of the Wright Anything Agency were going to make about him for the rest of his life. He took Miles's hand. "Come on. If that's everything, the chief prosecutor and I have a date to get to."

"Have a good time!" Trucy said, darting back up the stairs to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't stay out too late!"

"Thanks, Trucy." Shouldn't I be the one saying that?

Miles swept his gaze over the group, instantly assuming the power of his job title again. "And we would appreciate if you would be discreet with this...new knowledge you have gained today. We are planning on informing everyone, of course, just not in the first twenty-four hours."

"Of course," Apollo said, still beet red. Athena saluted, and Widget cringed. Trucy and Gavin nodded, too, and Phoenix grabbed Miles's hand, tugging him down the stairs.

As they passed by Gavin, he shifted the toilet brush to his other arm, laying a hand on Miles's shoulder. "Chief Prosecutor," he said. "Gratulation."

Miles nodded. "Danke."

"What was that about?" Phoenix whispered as they continued down the hall.

Miles glanced back. "Mr. Justice is not the only one who thought we weren't being subtle, it seems."

Phoenix followed his gaze. Gavin had climbed the stairs, and he and Apollo were talking intently, Apollo gesturing to the toilet brush. Athena, meanwhile, was giggling at something Trucy said, her hand still covering Widget. "I think my subordinates are terrified of you," Phoenix said.

Miles smirked. "They are." It wasn't a question.

"I wish I could say the same about me."

"It's not a bad thing to be friendly with them," Miles said. "You three- four make a fearsome team, both in and out of court. Your bond is one of your strengths."

"Tell me that again when I manage to keep a secret from them for more than a day," Phoenix said, smiling. He squeezed Miles' hand. "Who would've thought your idea of romance would be offering to clean toilets for me for two months?"

Miles scowled. "I recall mention of negotiations-"

"It's just like Gavin buying Apollo a new brush," Phoenix said cheerfully. He glanced back. Trucy and Athena had disappeared into the office, but Gavin and Apollo were still in the hall, standing almost too close to each other. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Apollo's smile spoke volumes. "For...whatever's going on between them."

He fingered the Magatama in his pocket. It seemed monumentally unfair for him to be interrogated until his secret relationship was revealed, and yet no one questioned Gavin bringing Apollo a new toilet brush, wrapped up in a bow, less than an hour after finding out the old brush was broken, as part of a 'joke'.

"Don't," Miles said, eyes following the movement of his hand.

Phoenix sighed. "I won't. I'm the boss, right? I have to follow my own rules. No more powers in the office."

Miles nodded. "That, and I'd rather not spend our first date trying to figure out if our subordinates are dating."

"Don't worry," Phoenix said, grinning. "I've got much more pleasant things to think about."

If Phoenix had looked back, in the last second before they turned a corner and were out of sight of the stairs, he might have witnessed decisive evidence of what, exactly, was going on between Klavier and Apollo. But Phoenix didn't turn, and Miles smiled to himself, and the mystery remained a mystery.

***

(Coda)

"You know what's weird?" Athena said, fiddling with her earring.

"That Prosecutor Gavin bought us a new toilet brush?" Trucy said. She crossed to Phoenix's desk, gathering up the cards scattered all over its surface.

"No," Athena said. "I mean, everyone knows why he did that. No, the thing with the toilet brush had me thinking- when was the last time you were on toilet duty?"

Trucy straightened, happy her back was to Athena so she couldn't see the look of horror on Trucy's face. She pasted on her best magician's smile and turned around. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we worked out a schedule, and it's supposed to be all four of us, but you and Mr. Wright never do it," Athena said. "I mean, it should have been your turn at some point in the past month, but we kept restarting the order because the schedule was-" She paused, eyes narrowing in accusation. "...destroyed in a magic trick. Twice."

What's a magician's best trick? Redirect their attention! Luckily for her, a distraction appeared in the form of Apollo in the doorway. He had a tiny smile on his face, both more pleased and more private than his usual grin, and the bow-clad toilet brush was tucked underneath his arm.

"Polly, did your boyfriend already leave?" Trucy asked. "I wanted to thank him for the new brush!"

"Yeah, he had to-" Apollo began, and then his smile vanished. "Wait, boyfriend?"

Trucy assumed an expression of innocence. "Isn't he?"

"What?" Apollo looked between her and Athena, backing up. "Trucy, we just had an office meeting about this! We're not going to pry into each other's personal lives anymore!"

"Technically, it was just about using powers to pry into each other's personal lives," Athena pointed out.

Trucy nodded. "Plus, I wasn't here for it, so I can still pry!"

"No, we're not dating!" Apollo said, flushing. "You guys are so weird! This is why we had to pretend last night was an investigation! Can't two men go out for dinner and drinks together without it being a date?"

"But sharing a motorcycle-" Athena began.

Apollo gesticulated wildly, waving the toilet brush. "It was the fastest way there!"

"And he keeps calling you all of those German pet names when he thinks we're not listening," Trucy added.

"How did you- no, that's- that's just how he is!" Apollo said. "He treats everyone like that!"

It took one look at Athena's expression for Trucy to confirm that, no, she was not crazy, and yes, Prosecutor Gavin did not treat everyone like that. "Okay, Polly," Trucy said cheerfully. "If you say so."

Apollo threw up his hands in defeat. "Ugh, all of you are impossible. I'm going to put the new brush away in the bathroom." He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Athena was first to break the ensuing silence. "Do you think he knows he walked into the evidence room?"

"He'll figure it out," Trucy said, and Apollo stormed out of the evidence room, sent them another glare, and stormed into the bathroom. Somehow, him slamming the door a second time didn't have quite the same weight behind it.

When Trucy looked back at Athena, Athena was already eyeing her. "I haven't forgotten about you destroying the chore schedules, you know," she said pleasantly.

Darn.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #apollo justice #athena cykes #meant to post this two weeks ago but ah well #takes place vaguely in the dual destinies era if you dont think too hard #also shoutout to tumblr mobile for messing up my formatting lmao

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ronsenburg · 6 years ago

Text

stay happy (take a break)

I was inspired by @nessiemccormick’s cute klapollo pool sketch to write about summer, though this is not nearly as cute. Summer isn’t quite as fun when you’re an adult, except when you eat popsicles for dinner? Klavier/Apollo, ~2500 words. AO3 mirror.

Crime rates rise in the summer; it’s an inevitability of their line of work.

Apollo watches the temperatures start to climb with a detached feeling of dread. The days might be longer, but then again, so are their hours and fatigue settles slowly around Apollo, more oppressive than any incoming heatwave. Trucy and her friends welcome the sun with a sort of frenzy, counting down the days until summer vacation with an energy Apollo can’t ever remember possessing. He and Mr. Wright exchange tired glances across the office as she flits about to the tune of crashing furniture and disconcerting bangs, claiming to be working on new acts.

Things are worse at the prosecutor’s office.

Klavier works better in the dark, when the streetlights of the city have blinked into existence and the noise from the sidewalks dissolve from the blaring white noise of passing pedestrians into a quiet murmur of the occasional passing car and a stereo that drones out pop hits from a neighboring building’s windows. Klavier returns home long after Apollo has collapsed into sleep, stretching out his long limbs against the fabric of their prematurely worn couch, surrounded by evidence boxes and loose papers scribbled out in his incomprehensible handwriting.

In the morning, when the sun has just begun to crest over the line of buildings outside their east facing windows, Apollo tiptoes gently around the apartment, so careful not to make any noise that Klavier will laughingly call him Mausi later when they can mutually spare a moment to meet for lunch. Apollo works better when the air is fresh and still, where the only sounds to bother him are the early chirping birds or a jogger’s heavy footfalls as she passes under his window.

They live like this for most of June, pressing soft lips to the other’s sleeping temples, stealing brief moments of lingering fingers and stolen breath in empty courthouse lobbies. Apollo doesn’t worry, though, until the mornings he wakes to find Klavier already gone, the only indication he’s been home at all in the damp towel hanging in the guest bathroom and a note taped to the front door: their initials encased in a scribbled heart, flanked by lines of German poetry that Apollo recognizes only the odd word of, but will fold carefully and keep in his briefcase nonetheless.

After four days, Apollo reads the verdict of Klavier’s case in the headlines of some internet news site. There is a picture accompanying it, of Klavier smirking at the camera, hands in his pockets with his shoulders set confidently back. To the rest of the world, he probably looks the same as always, but Apollo can see fatigue in the slight smudge of old mascara collecting under his bottom lashes, in the shadow of dark gold that has begun to color the roots of the usual platinum blond hair.

He returns home that evening to find Klavier sitting at their kitchen table, the surface already covered in a spread of manilla folders, glossy photographs, and yellow legal pads.

“I thought we agreed, no murder victims in the kitchen,” Apollo comments by way of greeting, leaning against the back of the chair to drape his arms around Klavier’s shoulders. “What’s this?”

“A new case,” Klavier explains, looking up at Apollo through his thick-rimmed glasses with a smile stretched so thin that Apollo can almost see through it.

“You just finished the last one.”

A small shrug and a wider grin. “Evil never sleeps, baby.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Klavier sounds so very tired in that moment that it falls flat in the space between them.

“Neither do you,” Apollo points out. Klavier inclines his head slightly in admission but turns back to the paperwork anyway.

Before Apollo had really known Klavier, he had thought that his dedication to finding the truth at all costs was a redeeming trait in a prosecutor. It seemed preferable, then, to the anthem of perfection that so many of his predecessors had strived for with their convictions. But affection and the joys of cohabitation had brought a newfound understanding; Apollo can see that same desire for perfection manifest in Klavier’s self-inflicted caseload, in his investigative thoroughness, in his need to always reach the correct verdict, whether it is in his favor or not. Nothing frightens Klavier more, Apollo finds, than the idea that he has made a mistake, that some error on his part will result in the incarceration of an innocent. How much of this stems from his part in Phoenix Wright’s illegitimate disbarment and how much is simply Klavier’s nature, however, Apollo isn’t sure.

It makes the cases where Apollo has agreed to act as the defense something of a relief, though. They don’t face off in court much anymore, preferring to avoid any rumors of conflicting interests, but when Apollo stands behind the bench across the courtroom, he can see the lines of worry that have begun to crease the skin of Klavier’s forehead smooth away. Klavier never goes easy on him, but he does seem to trust that whatever ridiculous way Apollo will turn the case on its head will catch any of his own failings in the process. Apollo doesn’t always win, but they both walk away at the end of the trial feeling as though the correct decision was made.

“After this one, promise you’ll take a break,” Apollo says during a recess of their third trial, standing at the opposite end of the bench as Klavier collects his notes for the day and wishing, desperately, that they were alone so he could wrap his arms around the other.

The prosecutor smiles, and it is too bright to be really genuine. “Are you worried about me, Liebling?”

“Yes.” It’s a statement, not any sort of emotional plea, but the facade Klavier applies for the masses crumbles instantly into a look of confusion and concern.

“Ja, ja,” he agrees with a soft sigh, “After this.”

And somewhat miraculously, he does. Another few days of filing backlogged paperwork and archival requests pass, but Klavier doesn’t take any new cases.

On a particularly hot Thursday afternoon, Mr. Wright enters Apollo’s office, rapping his knuckles gently against the open door in the process, but not stopping to wait for a greeting.

“Miles said Prosecutor Gavin is taking some time off,” he says, his tone carefully neutral. They don’t discuss their partners in the prosecutor’s office much, although they probably should. Potential bonding moments aside, Phoenix Wright still seems to flinch at any mention of Klavier despite his best efforts to the contrary, as though simply the sound of his name is enough to open an old wound he is still frantically trying to suture closed. “If you need a few days, let me know. Athena and I can handle any of your requests.”

It’s a nice offer, though it still manages to catch Apollo by surprise.

“Thanks, Boss,” is all he says, and Phoenix smiles reassuringly before exiting the office.

The apartment is quiet when Apollo enters. A Klavier without the pressure of an imminent case means the sound of singing or the gentle strumming of a guitar… but there is nothing. The idea that Klavier might be sleeping is quickly dashed as Mikeko pads out from his hiding place deep within the bedroom closet, pushing a demanding face up against the fabric of Apollo’s pants. Apollo reaches down absently to scratch behind his ears as he fishes his phone from the depths of his pocket. There is a notification blinking there, a text message from Klavier that he must have missed while he was biking home.

Meet me on the roof, is all it says.

Apollo doesn’t bother to change out of his clothes from work before heading to the stairwell on the west side of the building, too curious at Klavier’s antics to worry much about his own comfort. When he opens the heavy steel door that separates the stairs from the elements, however, this is what he sees: the roof of their apartment is nothing extravagant to begin with, a building common space covered in warm, weathered wood and encased in wrought iron railings. Klavier has covered the center of the decking in a garish picnic blanket that Apollo is certain they hadn’t owned before this afternoon, it’s pink and yellow stripes made even uglier by the matching aluminum lawn chairs Klavier has arranged on top. They look like they haven’t actually seen the light of day since the early eighties; the vinyl is stretching in some places and discolored in others, but Klavier still lounges on his like it is the height of luxury. In fact, he looks more relaxed than Apollo has seen him in months, in a tank top and shorts with a pair of flip-flops kicked haphazardly across the blanket. In one hand, he is holding his cell phone, apparently scrolling through some social media app. In the other is a popsicle, already half eaten. When he looks up at Apollo through blue sunglass lenses, Apollo can see his lips are already stained a bright, artificial red.

“Hello, Schatz.” Klavier smiles nearly as brightly as the sun above and gestures with the popsicle to the roof around him. “Here is the vacation I promised you.”

“Is that a sandbox?” Apollo asks glancing to the right where a cheap plastic kiddie pool– the inflatable kind that always looks as though it might pop if you glanced at it wrong, much less swam in it– is sitting, filled halfway with sand. There is a hose sitting on the other end of the pool, slowly filling the remaining space with water. At the sound of his voice Vongole, who had been stretched out across the blanket next to Klavier, looks up, her warm brown eyes obviously debating whether or not he is worth the effort of investigating. The sound of her tags clattering against the metal ring of her collar fills the space as she settles back down to sleep instead.

“I wanted the beach,” Klavier replies, as though lugging enough sand to fill a swimming pool up to their roof is a reasonable solution to such a whim. When Apollo looks back, Klavier is stretching out his arm to offer Apollo a popsicle of his own from the cooler between the chairs. Apollo blinks at the thing, its red, white, and blue stripes already melting into a stream of colored syrup that drips down Klavier’s fingers. He takes it gingerly, holding it out and away from his suit.

“We can drive to the beach, you know. You didn’t have to make one here.”

“I didn’t want the people that go with it,” Klavier clarifies and shrugs. “Would you like to join me?”

It takes longer than normal to remove his shoes and tie with one hand, popping open the top button of his shirt while still managing to keep the steadily melting popsicle under control and away from anything it might stain, but he manages. Apollo pulls off his socks last, rolling the hem of his pants before sinking down into the sun-baked vinyl, feeling a slightly ridiculous and more than a little overdressed. The chair creaks ominously as it settles under his weight, but holds.

And it’s nice. Their building isn’t very tall, but it’s high enough that the street around them dissolves into white noise that Apollo can almost ignore as it mingles with the sound of water rushing from the plastic hose. Apollo finally begins to eat the popsicle and the sticky sweet taste of artificial cherry fills his mouth. He feels about 11 again suddenly, watching the look of shock and unrestrained excitement that had spread over Clay’s face when he’d learned Apollo had never tried one before. They’d had just enough money between the two of them to buy one from a street cart. Apollo doesn’t remember the finer details of the memory now, just the smell of chlorine on their clothes, the warmth of the sunlight against the back of his neck, and the feeling of being tentatively yet profoundly happy in the way only a child can manage.

He glances to Klavier, who is still grinning encouragingly in his direction. “You know,” Apollo starts, removing the popsicle from his mouth and pretending not to notice the bright blue drop that lands squarely on his white shirt in the process, “this wasn’t what I was expecting vacations with a famous rock star to be like.”

“You were expecting something more extravagant?” Klavier asks, inclining one eyebrow in his direction and barely containing his laugh, “Parties in Ibiza, the best spas in Switzerland, a private yacht in the Maldives?”

Apollo nods. “Yeah, basically.”

“Then I will take you,” Klavier replies with a dazzling smile, attempting to play the part of the charming prince come to whisk Apollo away. The effect is ruined somewhat by the purple-blue tint to his lips and the trail of melted popsicle that wraps its way down the skin of his forearm.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Apollo says, shaking his head, “This is better.”

They stay there for long enough that Apollo will have a sunburned nose in the morning and Klavier will probably freckle, complaining endlessly for days about the amount of concealer he will need to wear in public to cover them up. When the sun gets to be too much, they drag the chairs over to Klavier’s miniature beach where they can stick their feet in the still-cold water. At some point, Vongole decides to join them, pushing her way past their legs in order to flop over halfway between the water and sand. It takes them several minutes of pleading and pushing to get her out, only to be rewarded for their trouble by a rapidly deflating pool and her vigorous shake that splatters wet sand all over what remains of Apollo’s suit.

It’s hard to be too upset, though, when Klavier is so adamant in helping him out of the ruined clothes. Back downstairs in the privacy of their apartment, his hands are insistent and his lips are too sweet; together they coax Apollo toward the bedroom with little complaint. The contrasting feel of cool sheets against the skin of Apollo’s sun-warmed back is nearly enough to make him delirious, shivering from something other than cold at the feel of Klavier’s decisive fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, at the taste of lingering lines of sugar mixed with salt-skin.

Klavier is asleep by the time Apollo exits the bathroom later, his hair splayed out in a tangle of blonde curls across the white pillowcase. And it isn’t fair, really, that he should be so beautiful even like this, when he is snoring gently and probably already drooling despite the daylight and the sound of traffic that still spills in through the half-open window.

Apollo leans against the doorframe, a soft and fond exhalation of breath that isn’t quite a laugh escaping him as he looks on.

Falling asleep now will likely mean they’ll be up sometime in the middle of the night, starving from their time in the sun and the fact that their only meal that evening had come in the form of sweetened, frozen water. But he climbs back into the bed anyway, heart fluttering like a bad cliche at the soft sigh that escapes Klavier’s still sleeping form when he settles against Apollo’s chest.

It’s a vacation, after all. They can deal with the rest later.

#klapollo #Klavier Gavin #apollo justice #ace attorney #this whole thing is so domestic im crying #ask me about my apartment headcanons #ronsenburg tries to write

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