#klavier literally asked apollo to dinner. what am i supposed to say to that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years

Text

believe in me (who believes in you)

Summary: “You just said you couldn’t promise not to die.” “Ema was the one who brought up dying,” Apollo says. “I’m not dying. It’s just a cold. I’m fine.” Klavier tries to think of a line of attack that isn’t just telling Apollo he’s wrong, actually.

read it here on AO3 if you prefer.

Klavier needs to get this defense attorney off his crime scene. He understands, vaguely, that this is how most of his fellow prosecutors feel about the presence of any defense attorney on their crime scenes at any time. For him, though, it’s a special occasion.

Apollo sneezes.

“Herr Forehead—“

“No,” Apollo snaps.

“I was just going to offer you a handkerchief,” Klavier says.

Apollo squints at him like he thinks maybe Klavier is lying. He’s not—although he was going to follow the handkerchief offer up with one for a ride home, off the crime scene, to someplace warm and safe where he can rest.

“Please don’t die,” Ema says. “We already have enough dead bodies to deal with.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Apollo says. He scrunches his face up like he might sneeze again, but only sniffles miserably.

Klavier passes him the handkerchief.

“Thanks,” Apollo mumbles.

Klavier wavers for a moment, then decides that getting into arguments with Apollo is literally his job, and says, “I really think you should go home.”

Apollo scowls, and opens his mouth.

“You just said you couldn’t promise not to die.”

“Ema was the one who brought up dying,” Apollo says. “I’m not dying. It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Klavier tries to think of a line of attack that isn’t just telling Apollo he’s wrong, actually.

“Are you though?” Ema says. “Because you’ve been sneezing nonstop since you got here, and you kind of look like death, and I’ve been thinking about making the fop take your temperature.”

“Why me?” Klavier demands, sidetracked. “You’re the one with the thermometers.”

“If I try to take his temperature he’ll just tell me to go to hell,” Ema says, which is probably true.

“You think I wouldn’t tell Prosecutor Gavin to go to hell?” Apollo says, indignantly.

“I’m not gonna touch that one,” Ema says.

“Well, I would,” Apollo tells Klavier. Klavier tries his very best to look like he believes that. “I would! And nobody is taking my temperature. There’s nothing wrong with my temperature.”

Ema says, “If there’s nothing wrong with your temperature, then you shouldn’t have a problem with us taking it.”

“Don’t you try to bully me with logic!”

“Herr Forehead, I assure you, nobody was under the delusion that logic and reasoning were the best way to change your mind.”

Apollo gives him an outraged look for that one, and Klavier might fear retaliation if he hadn’t spent the last half-hour listening to Apollo’s struggling respiratory system. His favorite defense attorney is in no shape to pick fights. Which is exactly why he needs to go home. Instead, in complete disregard of the conversation, Apollo turns heel and goes back to snooping around the crime scene.

“He’s going to contaminate everything,” Ema says, sorrowfully.

“You’re all heart,” Klavier tells her. He slides his phone out of his pocket and opens his message thread with the chief prosecutor.

Klavier looks up from his phone.

“You let me poke around bloodstains and splatters all the time,” Apollo is saying.

“Yeah, when you aren’t sneezing in them,” Ema says. “What if your germs screw up our blood tests?”

“Herr Forehead,” Klavier calls. Apollo makes an inquiring sound without looking towards him. “The Chief Prosecutor has offered to find another defense attorney for the case.”

Apollo turns then, and Klavier almost winces at his expression. He looks—betrayed, wounded, gutted, any or all of the above.

“You don’t want me on the case?”

“I always want you on my cases,” Klavier says, carefully. “But right now I’m worried about your health.”

“I told you, I’m fine!” Apollo shouts, and immediately pays for it with a coughing fit. Klavier crosses to his side and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I don’t—hrgh—I don’t need to go home.”

“You’re freaking the fop out,” Ema says. “How’s he supposed to help you find the truth if he’s distracted by babysitting you?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Apollo grits out, “Because I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, mausi, but—“

Ema is giving him a scandalized look already—he didn’t mean to use the endearment, it honestly just slipped out, it would be weirder to stop and retract it at this point—but it doesn’t matter, because somewhere behind Klavier, someone hollers at a volume fit to rival Apollo’s Chords of Steel,

“APOLLO FUCKING JUSTICE!”

“Oh shit,” Apollo fucking Justice says.

“I swear,” the voice continues, as Klavier and Ema turn to stare in bewilderment. A young man is stalking towards them. Klavier feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but he’s not sure where. “To fucking GOD, I can’t leave you alone for FIVE MINUTES—“

“How did you even find me?” Apollo interrupts.

“I used the Find My Phone app for your phone,” the stranger says.

“I gave you access to that for EMERGENCIES!”

“This is an emergency!”

“For life-or-death emergencies!”

“This is—“

“Oh, no it isn’t, don’t even try—“

“I’m allowed to worry,” the stranger says, “When my BEST FRIEND in the WHOLE WORLD—“

“We are in front of my COLLEAGUES—“

“—Just, like, disappears the second I take my eyes off him even though I KNOW he’s sick and stupidly self-sacrificing—“

“I am NOT THAT—“

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning to Klavier and Ema. “Prosecutor Gavin and Detective Skye, right? I totally forgot, we haven’t actually met, have we? Apollo’s talked about you guys so much, I feel like I already know you—“

“CLAY,” Apollo yells, and then sneezes violently.

“I’m Clay Terran,” Clay continues, cheerfully. He sticks a hand out to Klavier. “And I’m here to take this dumbass off your hands.”

Klavier feels the beginnings of a smile overtake him as he shakes Clay’s hand. That’s why he looked familiar; Apollo has shown him pictures. “I hope one or two of the things you heard was good.”

“Oh, overwhelmingly net positive.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Apollo says, hoarsely, as Clay shakes Ema’s hand.

“Sunshine, you sound like you have asthma right now, you aren’t killing anyone.”

Apollo gives him a dark look.

“Come on, man. We can go visit my dad and get him to feed us or something. Get you some warm food and drink, and cold medicine—“

“I don’t need cold medicine,” Apollo says, “And I’m not leaving this crime scene unless Kl—Prosecutor Gavin says he doesn’t trust the case with me anymore.”

No pressure or anything. Ema slides Klavier a sympathetic grimace.

Clay says, “Remember that time I got the death flu and I was convinced I was gonna be taken off the mission if I took a sick day and you told me I wasn’t Ken fucking Mattingly?”

“Yes,” Apollo says, with obvious reluctance.

“You’re not Ken fucking Mattingly, Apollo.”

“Someone else taking his job because he was sick is literally exactly what happened to Ken Mattingly,” Apollo says.

“Who the hell is Ken Mattingly?” Ema ask Klavier, under her breath. Klavier shrugs helplessly. He has no clue.

“This is a court case, not a fucking space mission,” Clay says. “There will be other cases. Dude, please. Come get some dinner with me and go home and sleep. I don’t wanna watch you burn yourself out.”

Apollo opens his mouth, brows furrowed dangerously. Klavier knows that look almost intimately. It’s the one he gets from across the courtroom when Herr Forehead is about to pick a fight. It’s the look that precedes the yelling. Clay visibly braces himself, jaw clenched and chin tilted upwards. Klavier feels Ema tense at his shoulder, and he can’t help wincing preemptively either—except that suddenly, Apollo deflates, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose like he has a headache.

He probably does.

“Okay,” he says. “Back up. Let’s pretend we did the whole shouting deal, we both said things we regret, it was really bad, et cetera, et cetera. Can we agree to move past that?”

“Sure,” Clay says, amiably, relaxing a little.

“You didn’t come here to out-stubborn me,” Apollo says. He’s staring at Clay like a witness on the stand. “We’re both stubborn dipshits, you wouldn’t play that game. Or at least you wouldn’t count on it. So what’s your last resort? What’s your trump card, Clay?”

“You’re my best friend and I love you and don’t want you to die,” Clay says, without hesitation. Apollo looks unimpressed, but before he can say anything, Clay adds, “Also, I already told my dad you’re coming to dinner tonight. He’s making soup because he’s worried about you.”

“You told your dad?!”

Clay shrugs, but his expression radiates smug satisfaction.

“You goddamned snitch!”

“I can only imagine how worried he would be if I had to call him back to say you’re actually taking a case right now,” Clay says. With difficulty, he schools his face back to disarming innocence. “Working so hard when you have a fever, out on a crime scene late on a chilly night…”

“It’s not even cold out. You’re the worst,” Apollo says, sullenly. There’s a defeated slump to his shoulders now. “I hate you.”

Clay grins. “I love you, too, man.”

“Who’s taking my case?” Apollo demands, abruptly turning back to Klavier. Klavier and Ema have been watching the entire exchange like a tennis volley, and both jump a little when Apollo whirls on them.

“Oh, hold on—“ Klavier pulls his phone back out of his pocket and thumbs back to the thread with the Chief Prosecutor. Fortunately, the good Chief has taken the radio silence appropriately and kept him updated on finding a new defense attorney. “Ah, someone called Raymond Shields.”

“I know that guy,” Ema says. Apollo’s expression shifts from sullen to hopeful. “He’s—well, I was gonna say he was weird, but in the grand scheme of people we know he’s not that bad. And he’s got the whole believe in your client thing down. He’ll get the job done.”

“See?” Clay says.

“I’m not speaking to you,” Apollo says, stubbornly not looking back at him. He stays focused on Klavier and Ema. “You’ll take care of it, right? Klavier?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier says. “We’ll find the truth.”

“Science never lies,” Ema adds. Apollo looks dubious about this, but has the good grace not to say anything. He must really be sick.

“I’m trusting you, okay?”

“I know,” Klavier says. And he does know, although something warm settles in his stomach to hear Apollo confirm it out loud. “Don’t you worry, schatzi. Have I ever let you down before?”

“No,” Apollo grumbles.

“SEE?” Clay says, louder this time.

Apollo spares him a glare, then asks Klavier, “D’you want the easy court victory when I murder him? I’m planning to take credit for it.”

“You’ll have to fight Ms. Blackquill for the privilege of killing me,” Clay retorts.

“No murders,” Klavier tells Apollo. Apollo makes a face at him, but doesn’t resist when Clay steps in close enough to loop a hand around his elbow and start dragging him away from the crime scene. “Get some rest! Relax!”

“Don’t forget, the truth—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ema says. “We know! Go home already!”

Apollo, evidently committed to the idea of being off the clock, flips her the bird. She sticks her tongue out at him in return.

“Only professionals here,” Klavier says, amused. Clay escorts Apollo across the park to a parked car, and bundles him into the passenger seat before ducking back over to the driver’s side. Klavier and Ema watch in silence as they drive off.

“Thank God,” Ema finally says. “I thought I was gonna have to spend an entire case watching you make sad concerned puppy eyes at him.”

“Hey,” Klavier says.

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me. Mausi? Schatzi?”

Klavier Gavin doesn’t blush. If there’s any heat in his cheeks right now, surely it’s just because it is actually a bit chilly out. “Force of habit.”

“Force of pining, more like,” Ema says, because she’s ruthless and Klavier probably shouldn’t have spent so much time teasing her about her girlfriend. “Keep me updated, will you? I’m sure he’ll text you about how annoyed he is to be at home watching movies and taking naps or whatever.”

“I will,” Klavier says. Ema cares, too, in her own way.

“Now let’s show Mr. Shields how it’s done,” Ema says.

“Oh, let’s.”

And they do.

#klapollo #apollo justice #klavier gavin #clay terran #ema skye #not art #ace attorney #long post

86 notes · View notes