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Apollo has his tongue caught between his teeth as he firmly rubs a dollar bill along the edge of the courthouse's vending machine to straighten it out. Trucy is with him and has the rest of their combined crumpled cash which she is making disappear and reappear to pass the time. Wright had insisted that after their most recent court victory they should treat themselves to a real feast of fancy; thus the vending machine raiding.
Trucy pauses in her magic making—shuffling the bills between a deck of cards—with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "Hey, Polly, do you think the case followed Klavier's lyrics for a reason?"
Apollo doesn't even blink, by now he's used to the somewhat non-sequitur conversations both of the Wrights like to spring on him. "Pretty sure the trial already explained all that. A mix of intentional choices and coincidences."
"I don't mean a real reason," Trucy clarifies with a huff, "I mean a broader, cosmic reason. Like Klavier's own kind of magic or maybe even...a curse." She makes sure to gasp dramatically.
"What, that he's, like, cosmically cursed to murder people accidentally through song lyrics?" Apollo gestures for a new bill and is readily supplied with one. Trucy hums in agreement and Apollo, a little self consciously, indulges in the idea for a second. He gets halfway through a fairytale storybook fantasy where Klavier gets cursed by an evil witch where the only cure is true love's kiss before he snorts, gets another bill to straighten, and shakes his head. "If he is, you'd think he'd have noticed by now."
Trucy leans up against the machine, twirling the last bill between her fingers with stars in her eyes. "That's just it! This is the start! The next song he writes could very well prove that he's totally cursed."
Apollo rolls his eyes. As funny as it would be to see Prosecutor Gavin have to deal with cursed music, if he had to untangle a case around song lyrics a second time he might actually loose some of his sanity. "If he is cursed, he should do everyone a favour and write an ending to the murder in the song."
Trucy holds her hand out and flaps it in his direction. He forks over all the straightened bills. She feeds two in and punches in the code for a sticky honey bun. "Polly, Polly, Polly," she shakes her head, "the mystery is part of the appeal! Plus, nothing hooks an audience better than a cliffhanger! It's just good business."
As per their agreement, Apollo gets next dibs on their vended dinner options. He picks trail mix. "Good business would be not making murderous songs at all. If Prosecutor Gavin was cursed and knew about it but still went to publish the song? That sounds like some pretty gross negligence."
"Maybe you should get hired as a consultant for him!" Trucy suggests as she selects the frosted toaster pastries. A wise choice given the amount of food to price ratio.
Apollo opens his mouth to refute it—they are way too far down the hypothetical train already—but stops short. He snags a bag of barbecue chips. "Well, maybe he should hire me. Whether the music is cursed or not, I could at least do the Gavinners some good by vetoing any more of their offensively loud, gaudy, and ridiculous songs before they air. In fact, Prosecutor Gavin doesn't even need to hire me, I'd say that for free to his face."
While he was talking Trucy had been keying in her next choice for their celebration dinner but had glanced up with slowly widening eyes. She brings her hand up over her mouth like she's giggling. Very badly hiding a familiar, giant grin. Apollo furrows his brows, why is she-?
"Ach, really?" A very familiar voice joins in from behind him. Sure enough, when Apollo turns to check, he's met with the ever-shiny visage of one Prosecutor Gavin. Hands on his hips, leaning forward, and looking a little mischievous. "Wow, Herr Forehead, maybe I should hire you as Herr Producer for more of those fanciful ideas of yours."
Apollo crosses his arms over his chest, feeling a bloom of pride. "See? Thank you! I- hey!" The fact that Prosecutor Gavin had been teasing him only hits after he's already started talking. A warmth immediately rushes to his face and burns down the back of his neck. There's no coming back from that, so he decides to trust his gut and just start bluffing! It works in court, why not in casual social encounters? "I- I mean, naturally, producer would be a downgrade from consultant. You don't deserve any more of my brain power, especially after a case like that."
The prosecutor thankfully chuckles and leans back out of Apollo's personal space. Though, he does look a little guilty. His signature heart-stealing grin isn't fixed in quite the right place. "Yes," he agrees slowly, "it was quite the doozy, wasn't it? I'm sure you're more than deserving of a relaxing weekend."
"Just a weekend?" Apollo's mouth is running completely on its own now and nothing short of a bomb going off could stop him. "I think I deserve a bit more than a weekend. Since your concert was a bust, I think you owe me another night out. For free this time."
Prosecutor Gavin laughs again, more of a surprised bark as it clears away the guilt from his face. It's apparently a happy surprise if the way his smile returns means anything. A slow melt that brings colour to his cheeks. "I should've expected such forwardness but...oh, who am I to deny such a wonderful offer as that?" Prosecutor Gavin says.
Trucy—who has been raiding the machine unsupervised and is now loading both her own and Apollo's arms with goodies—leans in again. "It wouldn't be very princely to deny it at all." She agrees with a thoughtful nod of her head.
"Precisely," The prosecutor winks at Trucy and Apollo feels a very sudden urge to roll his eyes so hard he rolls out of the room entirely. The amount of cheesy one-liners the two of them could conjure together is beyond imagining. Then Prosecutor Gavin fishes out his phone and asks to swap phone numbers.
Apollo is more surprised that Gavin is willing to humour his teasing demand than that he wants to trade numbers. He forks over his information easily enough and has to take a moment to stare at the contact Gavin has so casually put into his phone. The sight makes his chest tighten, and Apollo chalks it up to excitement about the future ease of working on cases if they can collaborate easier and at any time.
Gavin almost seems to flounder a bit, also caught up in staring at his phone. Maybe a work text had come in or something? When he looks up he seems to take a conscious effort to cool his warm smile back into the practiced grin he wears in court. "Well, I should be going now. I don't want to interrupt your..." He glances down at their collective armfuls of blood coagulant masquerading as snack food with a not so subtle grimace. "Celebratory feast," he lands on diplomatically.
Both Trucy and Apollo bid him goodbye and the majority of the conversation slips to the back of his mind for the rest of the day. Getting all the snacks back down to Wright in the parking lot turns out to be challenge enough.
He's only reminded of the interaction by a text message that comes in right before he goes to bed that night.
————
Klavier: I'm excited to go out with you! When are you free this week?
Apollo: Thursday night I don't have anything going on.
Klavier: Perfect! Can I pick you up on my hog? I will bring helmets to protect your glorious forehead ~★
Apollo: I think I would fall off and die.
Klavier: :(
————
They decide to meet up at People Park after work so they can walk together to their destination. Prosecutor Gavin hadn't said where they were going and Apollo is happy enough to leave it as a surprise.
He spends all of five minutes waiting around, shifting from foot to foot and being thankful that he’d changed into his casual tennis shoes. His old red jacket helped keep the chill from the river from getting to him. It seemed illegal to be caught between a water-side nip and persistent July heat but he supposed five o' clock was exempt from such rulings.
“Ach! Good evening!”
Apollo looks up quickly and just as soon finds himself staring. Prosecutor Gavin has arrived. And had—at some point in time, likely on the back of his ostentatious motorcycle—decided he would never be satisfied with a normal and casual entrance to anything. This must be why he's now strolling into People Park in a flashy dark suit, speckled with silver that almost looks like stars. His hair is pulled up and artfully twisted into a bun and secured with ribbon. Most shocking of all is that his shirt is…fully buttoned. Decorated with silver chains and pins but buttoned all the same. He looks…he looks…
Prosecutor Gavin stops in front of him with his hands on his hips and a brilliant smile. “Speechless, are we?” He teases.
“You-“ Apollo's tongue trips the rest of his words up and he ends up making a very undignified noise. He hastily clears his throat and lets his gaze wander away from Pr- Klavier. Clearly, Prosecutor Gavin is not here tonight. “You surprised me, that’s all.” Apollo grumbles.
Klavier’s smile warms, the man leaning back a bit and looking almost bashful. “Good, I was hoping to make an…impression, I suppose you could say.” He pauses for a brief moment and stares a little in turn. “Ah, you surprised me yourself. I wasn’t expecting blue jeans.”
Apollo feels his hackles begin to rise. Klavier's tone hadn't sounded judgemental, but Apollo was all too aware that between the two of them he clearly stuck out like a sore thumb. He could already feel the phantom prickle of stares that would surely be directed his way with no shortage of disdain that he, some nobody, would dare dressing so casually in the presence of the Rockstar Prosecutor. “Well, I didn’t know what we were going to be doing tonight so I just. They’re clean and nice enough, so, I just figured-“
“No, no! It’s cute. I like it.” Klavier says. Which is halfway to sounding like an insult but it’s said so genuinely it might actually be true which is. A whole other can of worms. It would be a hell of a lot easier if it was just an insult, that’s for sure.
They both end up drifting into silence after that. Apollo thinks that's entirely justified given the amount of mental hoops he’s going through trying to figure out what—if anything—Klavier meant by the cute comment. The way the prosecutor’s face is teetering between placid embarrassment and something…goopy...certainly isn’t helping anything. Apollo is the first to crack and does so by folding his arms and turning to look deeper into the park. “As much as I would like to continue this awkward staring contest, I think we have somewhere to be.”
“Quite right,” Klavier agrees quickly, sliding up next to Apollo and linking their arms together. Like it's easy. Like it's normal. Like this is what courtroom rivals were supposed to be doing together. “I figured we could, ah, take the scenic route? Move around a bit so we’re not falling asleep on each other later during something a bit more traditional.”
"Sure," Apollo breathes. The answering smile is yet another one tossed onto the mental pile of 'what is his face doing, what does that mean' expressions to tediously dissect and study later that night when sleep inevitably evades him. He lets himself be guided through People Park, the two of them walking along the river. Apollo is secretly glad to be on the outside of their pair, Klavier between him and the water. The air is slowly cooling and taking the lingering humidity with it.
They make idle conversation as they walk. An easy back and forth about current case loads and how investigations are going. Apollo finally got to tell someone about all the inane chores he did around Wright and Co. Law Offices. Klavier in turn revealed no shortage of dirty laundry from the prosecutors office. Staunch imposing figures of justice became much less scary when you knew how huffy they got about their dry cleaning bill. Apparently, tensions ran even higher when the quarter-annual chess tournament rolls around. Klavier explained the event in exhaustive detail all the way down to the intricate campaigns that are run in the lead up to try and psych out their opponents, much to Apollo's amazement.
"I've never participated," Klavier explains as they turn off the rough path of the park and head towards the city, "my talents lie elsewhere. For instance, in morale. Did you know that I had three different prosecutors come up to me asking for a theme song they could play at their match this year?"
Apollo snorts, shaking his head. "Well? Did you end up making any?"
Klavier pulls them across the street to a strip of shops that all look swanky or ultra-niche. The kind of shops that somehow stay in business despite how hyper-specific they are. "Mm, I did. Just one, though I'm not going to tell you which one. You'll have to come to the next tournament in a month's time and hear it for yourself."
Apollo finds himself smiling, wry as it may be, and considers the offer. It would be pretty funny to see prosecutors out of their usual element. But, of course, accepting the invitation would also imply that he'd be hanging out with Klavier again. Not that that'd be terrible or anything, as the evening has already proved. Clearly they could get along pretty well. But, still. Apollo isn't going to hold his breath waiting for some kind of deeper connection or interest that could sustain a relationship beyond coworkers. "Let's see how tonight goes before we get to that." He says, dodging the commitment.
"Of course," Klavier agrees, a touch too quickly. He drops Apollo's arm and drifts just far away enough from the other man to be noticeable. "Natrulich, we aren't in any rush." He waves his hand in a flourish as he leads them to a building at the corner of the strip. A brick facade with big windows covered by lush velvet-looking curtains and a brightly patterned sign that says: 8-BYTE BISTRO. "Here we are!" Klavier pulls the door open with a great deal of fanfare and Apollo steps inside.
The restaurant—or, bistro? What's the difference?—is moody, dark purple fabric hangs in strips along the walls, pulled back to reveal the brickwork. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and each table has their own soft red lamp. The people eating there all look like they've just come waltzing off the covers of magazines. The staff are wearing waistcoats and there's the gentle sound of live music coming from the back of the restaurant. Apollo immediately feels out of place.
A waiter notices them enter and approaches, looking a little apprehensive, gaze lingering on Apollo longer than he'd like. "Hello, gentlemen, Mr. Gavin, always a pleasure! Um, two tables, yes?"
Klavier leans against Apollo and rests an arm across his shoulders. "Just the one table, please." Klavier says with a charming smile.
Apollo tenses under the gesture and feels a hideous burn work its way over his face. Crap, it must be so embarrassing to show up to a place like this with a friend looking like Apollo did. No wonder the waiter thought they weren't eating together, they were completely mismatched. Apollo comforts himself knowing at least his hair is freshly done and looking nice.
...It's a cold comfort.
"Oh! Of course! Right this way then!" They're taken to a simple booth with dark leather seats that squeak obnoxiously as they slide into place. "I'll be back in a bit to get your order."
Klavier looks like he wants to say something but Apollo hastily grabs a menu and pulls it up in front of his face. He just needs a second away from being stared at. A brief moment to stoke the fires of his confidence. He is Apollo Justice, two time triumpher over Klavier Gavin and the one to expose the Coolest Defence In The West as a suspect for murder! He is the protege of the Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney, and magic assistant to Trucy Wright! He is Apollo Justice, and a fancy restaurant isn't going to take him down! This is fine! He is fine!
Once he actually starts reading the menu instead of blankly staring at it, a new wave of 'what the hell?' washes over him. "What is this menu?" He mumbles.
Klavier must hear him because he's chuckling. Dropping the menu reveals that the prosecutor has his mouth hidden behind his hand and crinkled up eyes. "Yes, it's a bit conceptual, I know. But very tasty!"
Apollo looks down at the words: 'second coming of gastric joy - deconstructed BLT' and looks back up at Klavier with one unimpressed eyebrow arched. Klavier laughs harder at that which makes something warm and fluttery kick up in Apollo's belly.
The waiter comes back around then and they get their orders in. Klavier gets a deconstructed lobster truffle bisque with sourdough bread and Apollo gets a safe hamburger. Well, technically it's called a 'nostalgia's garden beef sandwich' but it's basically a hamburger.
"Alright," Apollo starts once the waiter has left, "so if you didn't pick this place for the food, why did you pick it?"
"The music," Klavier replies. He's got his elbows propped up on the table, leaning up against them and over the table. "Sometimes they get some really amazing bands in here to play for the evening, I've met some extremely talented musicians this way. People that deserve much more recognition than what they get." As he talks he gets a wistful look in his eye, turned towards the band.
He looks so proud and Apollo finds it suddenly a little hard to breathe. The restaurant lighting looks moody against the velvet curtains but the way it plays off of Klavier's hair is almost artful. There's a warm glow in the prosecutor's face. A softness and openness, an earnestness that Apollo hadn't been sure existed. It seems silly to admit, in retrospect. Apollo can feel his heart pick up, heavy, in his chest.
"I started out doing things like that, restaurant gigs. I miss it. I'd like to do it again someday, I think. Just me though, no Gavinners." Klavier glances over at Apollo as if he'd just remembered he had company and straightens up automatically. "Ah, apologies for my rambling! I know music isn't really your thing, häschen."
Apollo blinks, almost like coming out of a trance. "No, no, I really- I mean. Music means a lot to me too. I'm not an expert or anything, not like you, but I like it. And you looked like you enjoyed talking about that stuff, so. Don't stop on my account."
Klavier says something that sounds like: 'you're too sweet' under his breath but continues quickly at a normal volume. "Ah hah, good. I'm glad I'm not scaring you off with all my ‘endless yapping’, as it were. Anyway, I first met the rest of the Gavinners overseas in law school, as the story goes, but we actually formed a band after we ran into each other at a public house and...the rest is history! Our sound has certainly changed since the beginning, but I think we improved with every performance we gave. As much as you may disagree." He teases.
After such a honest answer he deserves some honesty back, right? "Look, I'll only tell you this this one time." Apollo sighs, still torn on if he's going to actually say this even as he's saying it. "The Gavinners...ugh, you're not that bad. I still think your lyrics are way too cliche and more for noise than anything else, but...at that concert you did have some cool moments. And no matter what you always looked like you cared about what you were playing which is more than I can say for some famous musicians. I might give you a hard time but the truth is, you’re a great artist."
Klavier pauses, that same pleasantly surprised expression from when Apollo had suggested going out back on his face. He breaks with a soft chuckle, an even warmer smile unfolding across his face. “Wow, that’s high praise. You know…I was surprised when you asked, and since we’re sharing truths I must admit I was a little apprehensive while getting ready, but this date has been nice.”
“Yeah I-“ Apollo starts, his brain about three seconds behind his mouth. “Wait. What did you just say?”
“Uh, this date has been…nice?”
Apollo has done enough (mostly unwilling) freelance IT for Wright to recognize the bright blue screen of death that is now dominating his vision. The world screeches to a halt and on some higher level he can recognize the stimulus still moving and changing around him. While the information is there—registered, catalogued, stamped with today's date—it can't connect. He's pretty sure he's still breathing. That kind of slow shallow breathing that people forget to notice. He's also pretty sure his face must be hilarious to look at. He's sure Trucy would get a hoot out of it if she could see it. What is he thinking about? Oh, right. Blue screen of death.
This is a date?
This is a date.
A couple things are starting to make a hell of a lot more sense. The fancy outfit, the 'more traditional' moody restaurant, all the little looks. Offering an arm for a stroll through the park. Trading phone numbers.
Jesus Christ, Apollo prides himself on his perceptiveness, how the fuck did he miss the signs that this was less than platonic?
And why is the fact that this is a date not what's making him so upset? This is his rival in the courtroom for crying out loud! An obnoxious, cocky, dramatic, foppish, sparkly, passionate, kind, intelligent, talented, justice-following, beautiful man!
The realization that Klavier isn't just conventionally attractive but actually—like, actually, actually—beautiful would have to be shelved for a bit. Along with the second, much softer, realization that being on a date with Klavier is something he might genuinely want to be doing. Maybe more than once. That would all have to wait because he has a question burning its way through his throat so hot it stings until it's erupting from his mouth at a near shout.
"You were willing to go on a date with me?"
Throughout all of Apollo's hard thinking Klavier had been tensing further and further. A nervous set to his eyebrows that cast his smile in a cold and almost fake light. The prosecutor jolts a bit at the volume, blinking at Apollo as if the brown haired lawyer is the one who'd lost his mind. "Sorry?" Klavier says weakly.
"You," Apollo points across the table like he's in court and unraveling the lies of a brand new witness, "you, the 'Rockstar Prosecutor', the man who can do a collaboration with international celebrities like LaMiroir, you, who are an international celebrity in your own right, with fans both in and out of the courthouse, raking in millions with your success. You. Thought I was asking you out...and you said yes?"
Klavier's expression shutters around a very familiar steely determination. He closes his eyes and brings up one hand, snapping to the rhythm of the music in the background. "Yes, Apollo, I did. I may be everything you say, but you're underselling yourself. You are bright. Yes, smart, intelligent, clever, of course all of those things. But there is a light filling you with a glow from the inside out. I catch glimpses of it in court, and it captivates me. You captivate me. Given the opportunity to see you relaxed and outside of work...it seems obvious that I would take it."
If Apollo hadn't been red-faced before he sure is now. His words have taken an all expenses paid vacation away for the time being, leaving him feeling off-kilter—almost floaty—facing down Klavier like this. Two sides of a dinner table rather than the courthouse.
Klavier starts talking again before Apollo can scrounge up a single thing to say. "Ach, though, this must be quite the shock." The determination slides away to make way for embarrassment. He keeps his eyes averted, one hand curling around the back of his neck. Coming off shy and small which doesn't suit him at all. "I understand if you'd rather we part ways here, take our dinners to go and never speak of this again. I don't want you to feel trapped by obligation, you're free to leave if you want to."
"No!" Apollo blurts. His face is quickly approaching an unsafe temperature and he takes a deep swig of his water to try and cool off. He's tempted to pour it over his head to clear it faster. His mind is a swirling mess of screaming at various volumes but one thing is clear. This date has been nice. And he wants it to continue. "I mean, I- you- Prosecutor Gavin. I'm having a good time!" His voice is teetering on his Chords of Steel and Klavier's staring at him with slightly widened eyes and he may be drawing attention from nearby tables but damnit he's still got more to say! "And I would like to continue having a good time! With you! Tonight! On this date!"
"Apollo..." Klavier begins, something like awe tracing the lines of his voice.
"Your food, gentlemen." The moment shatters as plates of warm food are slid onto the table before them. Both lawyers give their thanks, albeit shakily, and the waiter leaves with one final appraising glance.
Apollo sinks into his burger-but-not-really, forgoing any utensils for the true burger experience. Klavier is cutting into his food with similar determination. It seems neither of them wants to start up the conversation first. Weirdly, things had seemed more natural when just one of them had thought of this as a date. Now that they were both in the know it felt…strange. Or maybe Apollo's projecting! He can't be sure of anything right now.
He takes another bite of the not-burger and feels his gut roiling like a raging river. He has to put the food down. "Klavier, um..." What to say, what to say...they'd already blown through all their small talk in the park earlier. And trying to go for deeper cutting questions feels a little presumptuous for a first date.
Klavier sets his utensils down as well and looks up across the table. Whatever he sees—Apollo doesn't know exactly what does it—must be pretty funny because the prosecutor starts giggling.
"What?" Apollo asks.
Klavier only laughs harder, snickers tucked into his hand.
"Wha-hat?" Apollo asks again, more insistent even as his own chuckle bubbles into his words.
"Nothing, nothing," Klavier replies, shoulders shaking, "it's just...this is so ridiculous!"
Apollo lets himself laugh along, just a little. "Oh! Hah, yeah, I guess only we would wind up in a situation like this. Half dates and miscommunications and..." He trails off, tapping at his forehead to try and draw out an appropriate conclusion to the statement.
"And...uncovering the truth together?" Klavier suggests. He's got a playful smile on. It's nice. Brings out his eyes.
Apollo feels himself flushing again from his own internal monologue. "Yes! That! That- that thing we tend to be doing!" Jesus, he needs to change the conversation and quick. "Listen, Klavier, now that I know this is a date I feel kinda bad for...underdressing and not bringing much to the proverbial date table. Can I help pay for dinner tonight?"
"Nonsense!" Klavier looks actually offended by the suggestion. "I told you that I'm treating you to make up for the concert and this remains my treat to you, date or otherwise. Besides, I don't think you'll want to lay eyes on the check."
Right, this was an fancy place. Apollo winces in sympathy for his wallet. He still feels bad for not contributing in some way to the date. But he knows trying to push the bill issue won't get him anywhere. Klavier acts cool but he can be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be. He just had to think outside the box, then. Maybe he could contribute in a different way...
They finish their meal amiably, falling back into casual conversation a little awkwardly. Once the ball gets rolling though, their banter picks right up and the conversation flows easily. When the check comes Klavier doesn't let Apollo see it, as promised. Walking out of the restaurant and into the crisp night air feels almost surreal.
"Shall I walk you back to the park, häschen?" Klavier offers his arm again, princely aura in full effect.
Apollo gladly takes the arm but pulls up short when Klavier tries to take a step forward. "This date isn't over yet. I've got something to show you." The prosecutor's face has bloomed a nice shade of peach, Apollo's sense of propriety smacking him upside the head just a moment later. "If- if that's alright with you of course!"
"Ja, of course," Klavier breathes, still looking flushed.
Apollo nods once, firmly, and tugs them off into the city. He has to orient himself first, remember where they are and the best route for getting where they're going, but he figures that out with relative ease and then they're off.
It doesn't take much more than ten minutes to walk to their destination. A small hole-in-the-wall mom and pop cafe that Apollo's been coming to for years now. The shop is admittedly run down, but the food is unparralleled. Plus, it's quiet. Something he suspects Klavier will appreciate given his whole...everything about him.
When he pushes the door open bells jingle overhead. Apollo can't help but grin at the familiar scents and sounds of the shop. Warm, spiced air with just the faintest undertones of dust. He glances over to his date—his date!—but Klavier looks a bit hesitant. Using their still-linked arms Apollo passes a hopefully reassuring squeeze to the prosecutor.
An older woman with her hair pulled back into two thick braids totters up to the counter and Apollo dutifully steps up. "One chai latte for me and for him..."
Klavier is squinting up at the blackboards up on the wall with the extensive menu scrawled in near-indecipherable cursive. "Ah...I'll have...the cream...puff? The cream puff."
Apollo pays for their food and they find a nice table towards the back. When he sits down his chair wobbles. "Hope you don't mind getting dessert, I figured it'd be a nice treat from me this time."
Klavier raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "A treat, you say?"
"Yes a- oh don't you start. The Wrights are already bad enough."
Klavier starts laughing again and Apollo finds he's coming to really enjoy that sound. He huffs, makes a big show of being put upon by the wanton punnage, and hopes he doesn't look too fond staring across the table.
When they get their dessert Apollo watches Klavier intensely as he takes a bite. His whole body lights up at the taste, stars practically shining in his eyes, and the rest of the puff is devoured. "That was amazing!"
It's Apollo's turn to snicker. "Good, but, uh, hold still a sec." In his haste to eat the puff a smear of cream has found its way onto Klavier's nose. Apollo picks up his napkin and without much thought leans over the table to wipe the cream away. "There we go."
Klavier once again turns a lovely peachy shade.
They linger, just a little, in the cafe. Long enough for the summer sun to set completely and the streetlights to flicker on outside. When they step outside again they only get a few steps down the street before stopping. Apollo's taken the reigns of the situation and pulls them to a stop.
"Klavier," he starts, "this...has really been nice. And, if you wouldn't mind, maybe we could do something like this again?" He keeps his eyes down on the sidewalk as he asks. It still feels weird to think that a celebrity might want to have anything to do with him.
Warm, calloused hands find his own. Squeezing gently, Klavier waits until he has the other man's eyes to answer. "I'd like that." He says so very softly.
Now that their eyes have met, stormy blue to warm brown, Apollo can't seem to look away. "Oh," he replies intelligently like a full grown lawyer who's passed the bar exam and gone through several years of higher education. Definitely not like a blushing teenager out on their first date.
Klavier smiles, the crooked one, the pretty one. "Maybe next time I can take you riding on my hog."
Apollo snorts, the two of them starting to walk again. "Yeah, right. I still think that thing would send me flying to my death. Oh! Hey, maybe if we go out to eat again I could choose! I know a great place for dinner, it's the saltiest food you'll ever have in your life but when it leaves your system later it's weirdly refreshing."
Klavier gasps, hand pressed up to his forehead. It's hard to tell if he's being a legitimate diva or playing his reaction up. "Ach! Now it's you who's trying to kill me!"
Apollo laughs, his belly warm from good food and drink and the feeling of contentment that can only come from good company. Whatever new case to come barrelling down the road for them, whatever traumas they'll need to face, somehow they don't matter. Or, there's a new confidence there. A surety that no matter what may happen next, they'll be able to lean on each other. In court and outside of it. And Apollo can't help but smile.