Chapter Text
It was important to keep up appearances during the day, but once seven o’clock hit and even the more diligent prosecutors had gone home, Klavier Gavin swept his braid up into a messy bun, pinned back his bangs, switched his contacts out with a pair of glasses, and started to really work.
He’d always been an evening person. This was advantageous for a rock star, less so for a prosecutor, whose day often began at 8am at the latest in the office, where things were already bustling in preparation for the trials of the day. But Klavier felt his thoughts were clearest once it was dark and the office was quiet, and he often stayed at the office very late, despite the cost of a few hours of sleep. He didn’t need much anyway, and lately he was lucky if he could catch three straight hours; better to be working than wasting time tossing sleeplessly in his bed, or breathing heavily after jolting himself out of a particularly vivid nightmare.
The comfortable chair by the window and Klavier’s numerous guitars, which got so much attention during the day and made his co-workers wonder how he managed to hold the position he had, were now ignored, in favor of the floor and his three enormous TV screens. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet and surrounded by case files, Klavier turned his focus to the glowing monitors.
It was nice to be busy. Klavier loved music, but the law was his true passion, and it was so easy to get swept up in the details of a case: the interplay of precedent and new information formed its own sort of melody, and Klavier composed his trials like he would a song, planning out the structure but leaving room for embellishment at the performance in the courtroom.
Three hours later, he was riding his bike back home when it occurred to him that his fridge was nearly empty. After a moment’s thought, he pulled up to the curb by a 24-hour café that looked quiet enough that he wouldn’t be bothered. It was still fairly soon after the Gavinners breakup, and he was getting tired of answering questions from distraught fans while trying to keep up a smile and pretend he wasn’t so weary of it all.
Although, he reflected as he pulled off his helmet, in this state, being recognized shouldn’t be too much of a problem.
Sure enough, the café was near empty, and the barista didn’t give him a second glance when he ordered some tea and a muffin. A voice in his head told him he should probably go somewhere where he could get something more substantial, but he wasn’t that hungry to begin with.
Not to mention that in the emptiness of the café there was one very familiar forehead.
Herr Justice was tucked away in a booth in the corner, nursing a large coffee and poring over some case files. Apparently it was a late night for everyone.
“Guten Abend," Klavier greeted the defense attorney, sliding into the bench across from him. “Late night?”
Apollo looked up and seemed momentarily shocked and confused before seeing through the messy hair and glasses to recognize Klavier. “Oh! Hi. Yeah. I have two cases right now…which is a lot more than usual.”
“Ah. Well if I’m bothering you…” Klavier found himself hoping dearly that the attorney would assure him that he wasn’t.
“No, you can stay, I just won’t be very talkative.”
“Not a problem.” Klavier rejoiced inwardly, because suddenly returning to his apartment alone seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. He turned his attention to his muffin and the attorney resumed reading. A few minutes passed in silence.
Klavier spoke. “Herr Forehead, I keep getting the feeling you are looking at me and doing the mental equivalent of pressing your finger to your expansive forehead.”
Apollo started. “Oh! Well. I guess I’m not used to seeing you like this.”
“What, did you think my hair naturally grew like that?” Klavier made a spiraling motion with his finger near his left shoulder. Inwardly, he felt a tremor. No one saw him like this anymore, not people who knew him, anyway. Some might have expected his appearance to deteriorate after everything that had happened, but it was just the opposite. One had to keep up appearances.
He suddenly felt strangely vulnerable.
“Well, no, but it’s still weird. Not to mention the glasses.”
“Ah, yes, Kristoph and I both have atrocious vision, but contacts are more suitable for rock stars.” The glasses were black and thick-rimmed. At one point, he’d had less ostentatious frames, but lately he had grown weary of glancing in the mirror and seeing Kristoph’s face; his brother would never be caught dead with frames like this, and that was exactly why Klavier had picked them out.
“They look good on you.”
“Why thank you, Forehead. Do I look more like a prosecutor should?” Klavier grinned.
“Ha. Maybe without the bun.” Apollo looked down at his finished coffee. “I should probably go back to the office.”
“Of course. It was nice to run into you, Justice.” Klavier smiled, but his heart sunk. Running into Apollo had been a happy coincidence that he hadn’t realized he had sorely needed.
Apollo gathered his papers and stood up. He paused.
“Did you want to come?” Klavier arched an eyebrow instinctively and Apollo immediately grew flustered. “I mean, sorry, that’s stupid, you probably want to go home and, like, sleep. I just—“
Mentally scolding himself for making the attorney uncomfortable when such a promising opportunity was on the line, Klavier interrupted him. “Actually, sitting alone in my house sound extremely unappealing. But won’t I be disturbing you?”
Apollo shook his head. “I work better with company. Keeps me focused.”
“In that case, I’d love to keep you company. Lead the way.”
…
“Apollo.”
Apollo was at the bench, just about to make an objection, but someone kept shoving his shoulder.
“Stop it….”
“Pollyyy!”
Trucy? “Wha…” With a start, he realized he wasn’t standing at the bench, and it was dark, and…he sat up with a jolt and his eyes burst open. “I’m fine!”
Phoenix Wright stood beside him and laughed. “Sorry to startle you, kiddo. So, what’s the story?”
Apollo blinked the sleep out of his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He felt like the case file he had been using as a pillow had imprinted itself there. “Uh…I was working late. Must’ve fallen asleep. Sorry, Mr. Wright.”
Phoenix shrugged. “No problems there.” He paused. “I was a little more curious about the prosecutor on the couch.”
“Prose--,” Apollo peered over his piles of books to the couch against the opposite wall, where Prosecutor Gavin was curled up with his purple jacket as a pillow, sound asleep. “Oh.”
Phoenix raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not--!” Apollo shouted reflexively. Klavier stirred. “It’s not anything…weird,” he continued more quietly. “I ran into him at the café. He looked really lonely so I said he could hang out here.”
“I see…” Phoenix said slowly. And somewhat…suggestively.
“Mr. Wright!” Apollo protested.
“I’m just kidding! Am I going to have to worry about you taking in stray cats, too?” Phoenix wandered over to the couch. “How much do you think someone would pay for a picture of this?”
“Should we wake him up?” Trucy asked, watching the prosecutor. “He looks so peaceful.”
“We probably should, what if he has court or something?” Apollo rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“Well, Apollo, he’s your guest,” Phoenix pointed out.
Apollo shifted uneasily. “Can I just shout at him?” Chords of Steel would probably wake him up…
“Polly, no!” Trucy hissed. “That’s mean!”
“Fine…” Apollo bent down next to the prosecutor and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Uh…Prosecutor Gavin?” No response. He shook him slightly. “Prosecutor Gavin? …Klavier?”
Klavier shifted in his sleep and smiled slightly. “Apollo…” he murmured.
Apollo felt the blood rise to his face, even though there was no way Trucy or Mr. Wright could have heard that. “Prosecutor Gavin!” he repeated, a decibel too loudly.
“Polly!” Trucy scolded as Klavier opened his eyes, noticed the trio peering over him, and woke up in an instant.
“Where…?” The prosecutor sat up and looked around, pushing his hair out of his face. “Ah. Right.” He looked at Apollo. “I’m so sorry, Herr Forehead, it seems your couch was too comfortable. Although you could have woken me.”
Apollo ran his hand through his hair, embarrassed. “I fell asleep, too.”
“In that case, I apologize to Herr Wright. I’m very sorry for intruding.” Phoenix shrugged unconcernedly.
Klavier stood, stretched, and shrugged on his jacket, placing his glasses on his nose and earning a squeak of surprise from Trucy. “Thank you for the couch, Herr Justice. I should get to the office.”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re welcome.” Never in a million years could Apollo have envisioned this scenario taking place.
Flashing a 1000-watt smile at Trucy and inclining his head to Mr. Wright, Klavier left. The whole strange encounter was over in less than five minutes. Apollo found himself gazing at the door as it shut after Klavier’s retreating form, brow furrowed. He just woke up and he still manages to be glimmerous.