Chapter Text
Apollo didn’t expect the next time he would see Klavier it would be to help him move.
He had only ever moved his own stuff before, his whole life having fit into four boxes and a backpack at the time. So he was nervous as he had biked his way over, unsure how much he would be able to help. Only, the packing and the heavy items were already taken care of. Actually, most of it had been taken care of. The only thing he had to do was move the leftover items Klavier had stuffed into his car. Which meant that he was dutifully in charge of moving…exactly six boxes, a basket full of loose cables and wires, and a garbage bag filled with the last of his clothing. (All of them littered with solid colour stickers that corresponded to their intended rooms, with each room of the medium sized home having a handmade legend of what colour meant which room in highly visible positions. He needed to remember to text Trucy later to ask if this was diva or type A behaviour).
They finished within the hour, so Apollo had re-rolled up his sleeves to prepare himself for the next step of unpacking. Only for Klavier to praise him for the good work, and insist on getting him lunch to thank him for taking time out of his day.
(Apollo had stared at him for way too long before asking if he seriously asked him to help him move as a cover for hanging out. Klavier just smiled at him before giving him his phone to order what he wanted to eat.)
The food was good, to be fair, much better than the fast food places around his own apartment. So good that it distracted him from the fact that he was eating it while sitting on the floor hunched over Klavier’s coffee table because he refused to eat it on his white couch (who the hell had white couches these days) and risk staining it.
Though not good enough to distract him from Klavier’s bombshell of a statement that was said out of nowhere, “My personal chef quit after everything that happened with my brother.”
There was so much to unpack that all Apollo managed in the seconds that it was his turn to respond was to stare up at him with wide eyes and go, “Ah” with a mouth half full of momos.
That seemed to be enough for Klavier to continue with this confession/conversation, “I can’t blame them, of course. After everything that had happened, I would be more surprised if they had stayed.” He paused to bite into one of his Porto's potato balls, which was just enough time for Apollo’s brain to catch up.
“...If your next question is to ask if I know any personal chefs, the answer is no.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out as flat as it did, but come on. The guy just moved into a house in a gated community in this economy and was going on about hiring a personal chef? Must be nice.
Thankfully (or not) Klavier took his words as a joke and laughed. “I appreciate the help, but no, I won’t be hiring a replacement. I’ve decided to try learning. Cooking, that is.”
It was only by chance that Apollo glanced up at Klavier at the same time he reached up tug at his bangs, an action that made his bracelet pinch ever so slightly. It was enough to get his attention, but not much else. Lying? No, he wasn’t saying anything. But Klavier’s gaze shifted over to him, and his smile looked tight in a way he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t told himself to look. “While embarrassing to admit, I have never learned how before. I thought it might be for the best that I throw myself into the deep end, as they say. Learn through necessity.”
Klavier’s pointer finger was fiddling with the spinning part of the ring on his thumb, an action so obvious that he noticed it before his bracelet tightened more. Apollo’s brow furrowed, but if Klavier noticed he didn’t let it stop him from talking, “It’ll take a while, but I would like to have you over for a meal. Once I’m more confident, of course.”
“...Sorry, what?” Apollo mentality shook himself out of his focus, looking Klavier in the face as his smile got a little more tight at the corners. His bracelet didn’t react to that, so Apollo was just all over confused about what was going on with this confession/conversation.
Klavier tilted his head, ponytail sliding over his shoulder as he repeated, “I would like to cook for you when I better learn how to.”
“Ah.” Apollo glanced down at the take out. If not for whatever all this weirdness that had just happened, he would have said something about how he didn’t have to; they could just do this again. But, whatever this was was something to Klavier, so he instead answered with a non committed, “Sure, why not.”
Which was an answer that he didn’t feel warranted Klavier’s too bright smile. With an enthusiastic nod, he proclaimed, “It’s a deal then! I’ll be sure to do my absolute best.”
Why did that make Apollo feel like he walked into a trap? “Yeah, uh, let me know if you need any help with that.” Apollo shoved the last momo into his mouth with half the chutney dip on it and told himself that if it was even half as good as this, he would probably be fine.
Maybe.