The Wrong Turnabout

[madimpossibledreamer]

Would you look at that, I didn't even have to edit for word count.  Good thing too, as I spent way too long trying to write a New Year's Eve fic.  Happy New Year's!  May this year be better than the last!  (I'm exhausted but I wanted to get something with the Holiday Episode tag, so...have fun.)
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU
Rating: G?
Word Count: 310
Summary, other main points under the cut
Hints here and there, generally character people, as well as Turnabout Histories spoilers.

Summary: Apollo and Klavier are traveling to the Wright-Edgeworth's New Year's party, but there's a problem...
Klavier/Apollo

          “You’ve definitely gotten us lost,” Apollo complains, staring at the map.  He’s already beginning to shiver despite the heavy jacket he bundled himself in, the Gavinners scarf wrapped so high around his neck he might as well be a turtle, and the mittens that hadn’t let him hold the steering wheel.  He glares at his boyfriend when he hops out, one of his lighter overcoats slung artfully over his shoulders, feet light in the snow.  “And I hate your stupid demon heating powers.”
          “Even when they heat you, Schatz?” he steps closer and hugs him close, and the warmth seeps through.
          “I’m worried you’re starting the year out wrong.  I don’t want to be wandering around in the snow, lost and not making it places on time…”  He trails off with a sigh as Klavier starts massaging his shoulders carefully.
          “Somehow, mein Apollo, I hardly see any difference.  We’re often stumbling in the dark, trying to find what we’re looking for, and we often don’t necessarily do so in what others might consider a timely manner, but together we reach it eventually, und as long as the sidetracking is done mit you, Herr Justice, I do not see a problem.”  He chuckles, and he’s gotten close enough that his breath tickles the back of Apollo’s neck.  “Though I am surprised you subscribe to such a superstition.”
          Apollo growls, fighting against the content he feels at Klavier’s words and hands.  “You have three seconds to run before you get a snowball down the back of your designer shirt, Klavi.”
          The blond springs back, hands held up in supplication.  “You would not do that before we find the cliché chateau to spend the night, would you?”
          “I’m going to have a countdown of my own.  Ten…nine…eight…” he begins, eyes glittering with menace, and with a laugh the rock star prosecutor springs away.