Chapter Text
All things considered, the whole “dating a rockstar” thing came more naturally to Apollo than he'd ever thought possible.
It wasn't like things didn't take some adjustment at first. He still couldn't quite get used to the feeling of being able to just give into temptation and kiss him whenever he pleased, like it was normal. Like his stomach didn't do the same obnoxious little flip that it had the first time they'd kissed even when they did it for the fifth, tenth, twentieth time.
Maybe that was a good thing – it probably meant that he really liked the guy, not like that had been up for debate.
They took their time climbing the steps up to Apollo's apartment – like they always did – and Klavier grinned as they stopped outside his door. “So?” he prompted. “How was it?”
“How many dates do we have to go on before you stop asking me that?” Apollo asked, smiling anyway.
“Humor me.”
It was hard to deny him that – it was hard to deny him much of anything. Apollo's eyes flicked down to Klavier's lips, then back up to his eyes again. “Good,” he said. “It was good. Could have been better without that little detour on the way home...”
“Can I help it if my fans are dedicated?”
(That's one word for it,) Apollo thought. Having to duck down a little unnamed side street hand in hand with Klavier to avoid a group of devoted college students had been a bit of a jolt after such a nice dinner, but somehow, it hadn't managed to put a dent in their evening.
No reason now for him to resist the growing urge to kiss him anymore, so he pressed himself up on his toes and gave in to it. God, why did Klavier have to have such damn long legs? Here he was standing up on his damn tip-toes just to kiss him, and Klavier still had to lean down an inch or so to keep him from straining his neck. “It was good,” he said again when he pulled away, and Klavier was still smirking.
They stood there in silence, Apollo toying with the keys to his apartment and fighting back the question that was burning in his throat. The temptation to invite him in had been growing every night – he wasn't sure just how much longer he'd be able to hold out.
(We're talking it slow,) he reminded himself, forcing a smile and finally going for his keys. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he said. He could have sworn something close to disappointment flashed across Klavier's face, but it was gone in a second.
"Tomorrow," he said, grinning as he let his hand linger on Apollo's arm before pulling away. “Gute Nacht, schatzi."
That touch alone almost felt like enough to drive him crazy, and he slipped through his front door just as Klavier disappeared down the stairwell. If he didn't get a door between them fast, he might just give up on this whole “taking it slow” thing.
God, he hated those words.
He made it all of five steps into his apartment before leaning against his wall with a sigh and sitting down cross-legged on the carpet. Mikeko was right on cue, staring up at him with those big, deceptively innocent eyes of hers. “No company tonight,” he told her, scratching her behind her ears. “Just like last night...and the night before.”
He let his head fall back against the wall, canting his face toward the ceiling and closing his eyes. God, what had he been reduced to?
“Am I crazy?” he asked his cat. Unsurprisingly, she didn't give him an answer. Maybe it was better that way. “I am crazy...I'm talking to my cat about my love life.” (Sex life.) “I'm definitely crazy. Or headed that way...”
They were taking it slow, and even as tightly wound as it was making him now, it would be worth it in the long run. He could handle stress. He could handle frustration. But having all of this blow up in their faces because they rushed things? That wasn't a risk he wanted to take. Not after everything they'd been through to get here.
It would be worth it, he repeated to himself, over and over. Good things came to those who waited and all that. For now, though, he had two choices: take a cold shower before bed, or shut Mikeko out of his bedroom for the night so that he could have enough privacy to get a little relief without her staring at him.
He hauled himself up, undid his tie, and left it hanging off the edge of the kitchen counter. It was late, and he'd had a long night. A good night, sure – he had yet to experience a bad date with Klavier – but a long one nonetheless. His legs were aching from their sprint down that side road, but somehow that just made him smile; an image flashed through his mind of Klavier's mad grin as they'd finally slowed to a stop, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, his cheeks red and sweat glistening on his temples and throat...
That image wasn't going away any time soon. He skipped the shower altogether and made a bee-line for his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
His cat was decidedly unhappy with him that night.
“What time did you get here?”
He had too much dignity left to answer that question, but there was no way Athena would miss him lying. “Early,” he said instead. With any luck, she'd take the hint.
“How early?” (Not so lucky after all.) She was frowning at him, brow pinched in concern. When she got that look on her face, he'd learned a long time ago to buckle in for an impromptu therapy session, but he was hardly in the mood. He turned his back to her again and went back to alphabetizing their boss's case records for the second time that week.
Somehow the Misham case had wound up lodged next to DeMask – it had been bothering him since he'd set foot in the office at five.
“Have you been organizing all morning?”
(C'mon, Athena...let a guy vent his nervous energy in peace.)
“Of course not,” he told her, and it was the truth. “I dusted all the desks, cleaned the toilet, watered Charley-”
“You dusted?”
“I had time.”
He tucked the last file into its rightful place and stepped down off of the step-stool with a sigh. Athena was still staring at him, he was sure, but he ignored that and got down to flipping and fluffing the couch cushions.
Two nickles, three dimes, and a stale pretzel later, Athena still had that same frown etched onto her face. “You're gonna get wrinkles,” he told her.
“Look who's talking,” she countered. “Something's off with you.”
“It's not.”
“It is. I can-”
“You can hear it, I know.”
(Dammit.)
If there was one way not to convince Athena Cykes that he was fine, it was by snapping at her. He pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. “Sorry. I just...I didn't sleep that well last night, and I needed to come and be productive-”
He knew that noise. He'd heard it in court plenty of times.
Apollo whipped around to face her. “Are you Mood Matrixing me?”
She stood there like a statue, index finger hovering just an inch away from the holographic screen projected in front of her. “No.” The screen was gone in a flash. “And it's not a verb by the way.”
(Deep breath.)
Athena let out a sigh that seemed to leave her too heavy for her own shoulders, and she slumped against the sofa. “I'm sorry, okay? You know how I get if people are tense around me.”
He did. All too well.
“Just tell me if you want me to butt out, okay? Say the word and I'll deal with it. But...something's bothering you. I can tell.” She twirled the end of her ponytail around one finger, avoiding his eye. “Is it...is something going wrong between you and Gavin?”
“Me and Klavier?” (Do not blush!) “No. I mean...nothing's wrong. We're great. We're fine.”
“Well, which is it?”
“Huh?”
“Are you great? Or are you just fine?”
(What's wrong with fine?)
Regardless, he wasn't exactly in the mood to answer that question. Not in this office. He let himself plop back on the freshly fluffed sofa. “There's nothing wrong, per se,” he said. “We're...I mean, we're dating.” God, he still wasn't used to how that sounded. “And the dates are great. I mean, at first it was a little weird, but we never had to go through that awkward small talk phase, you know? We've been through so much together, it's kinda like we're already old-hat at this.”
Besides the kissing at least. That was the only part he was still getting used to.
Athena was smiling, and it took him a moment to realize that she was mirroring the expression on his own face. God, he was getting downright wistful, and didn't that just make him feel like a lovestruck teenager? (He completes me. Nobody can understand our love. One day we're going to run away together to Bermuda and get married under a palm tree, and not even the Chief Prosecutor can stop us.)
Maybe if the whole lawyer thing didn't work out, he could start writing Lifetime movies.
“We're good,” he said. “Just...adjusting.”
Athena sat down beside him. “Maybe you two should go on a double date together with the boss and Prosecutor Edgeworth,” she said.
“They're not dating.”
“You're right,” she admitted, just moments before a wicked grin spread across her face. “They're practically married.”
That managed to get a laugh out of him – one that was still making his shoulders shake when the door opened and a pouting Trucy dragged herself inside, followed by her father. “...and you're not leaving this office until you've read at least five chapters,” Phoenix insisted. “You'll be through part one by the end of the week.”
“But Dad-”
“No buts.” He pushed a book into Trucy's hands. “You'll stay on that couch and read. Understood?”
She sighed, defeated, dropping the book on the cushion and sitting down next to it with a deep frown etching its way into her features.
“You alright?” Athena asked, and Trucy huffed.
“School starts in two weeks, and I haven't finished my summer reading,” she said.
“So now you have to read all four-hundred pages of Don Quixote in twelve days,” Phoenix said. “Starting now.”
“Oh, Don Quixote is a good one!” Athena chimed, grinning.
“When did you read Don Quixote?” Apollo asked her. He'd barely had extra time to read the news in law school, let alone sit down to a long novel in the middle of studying for the Bar.
“Well...I didn't. Not exactly. Simon read it to me when I was little. The fun parts anyway – you know, like the parts about him going off to fight windmills that he thought were giants.”
An image of Simon Blackquill running full-speed at a field full of windmills with his sword drawn and gleaming in the sun flashed through Apollo's head.
“Do you think if I asked him nicely, he'd tell me the important parts of the plot?” Trucy muttered.
Athena pondered that. “Well I doubt he has it memorized.” A grin spread across her face. “The Lord of the Rings, though...I bet he knows that whole series verbatim.”
“You can't be serious,” Apollo gaped.
“I'm very serious,” said Athena, a smirk tugging at her lips. “It's only a matter of time until I manage to convince him to come with me to Comic Con.”
(Dressed as what? Smaug the dragon?)
“Discuss the book with Prosecutor Blackquill as much as you want,” Phoenix said. “After you've read it.”
Trucy sighed and turned to the first chapter, scanning a few words before smiling slyly and turning toward Apollo. “You're supposed to be reading,” he whispered even as he leaned over the coffee table between the two couches.
“I know, and I will. But you haven't updated me on what's going on with Klavier yet, and I'm dying to hear how it's going.”
He glanced toward Phoenix, but Athena had swept their boss up in a conversation at his desk, keeping him and Trucy hidden from view. “C'mon, Polly,” Trucy pleaded over her open book. “Just give me a little bit of info, just to tide me over until I finish this-” She toyed with the page, grimacing as she did. “Please?”
Dammit, he could never resist those pleading eyes.
“Alright...” he sighed. “But there's not much to report.”
“You went on a date last night, right? Where'd you go?”
“Dinner,” he said. “Little Italian place. It was nice.”
“And?” Trucy prodded, head resting on her open palms in a way that reminded him of Pearl when she got that dreamy fairy-tale look in her eye.
He shrugged. “It was alright...Had to run away from a throng of his dedicated fans on the way home, but we lost them down a side street.”
“And...?”
“And it was a good evening. I ate leftover ziti for breakfast.”
She stared at him. Like she was waiting for something.
“That's it?” she asked.
(Unfortunately. No, don't think like that. Bad Justice.) “Well...yeah.”
“Didn't you at least kiss him goodnight or something? Jeez, Polly, I thought you'd be a gentleman-”
“Hey, I'm plenty gentleman, thank you very much,” he huffed. “And of course I did.”
(Would have liked to do a little more than that,) he thought, before mentally whacking himself on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.
Trucy sighed, a dreamy little smile creeping onto her face. “I still can't believe you're dating Klavier Gavin. You've turned into one hell of a heartbreaker, Polly.” She stifled a giggle and cupped her hand around her mouth as she leaned forward. “I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be sleeping with a rockstar-”
The breath he'd been taking got stuck halfway down his throat. “W-what?” (That did NOT just come out of Trucy's mouth.)
“Trucy,” Phoenix called. “Five chapters.”
“I know, I know,” she groaned, and she tucked her legs underneath her on the couch, resting the book in her lap to get to work. “I finished Brave New World in two days – this'll be a snap.”
He truly doubted Trucy would be bested by Cervantes, but for now, he needed a cup of coffee stronger than the office coffee maker could crank out.