The State of Being Picky
Oct. 2nd, 2015 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerThings aren't easy, no matter if you're a rock star prosecutor or a mere student. (With science the only similarity to a certain witness, might I add!)
It's kind of odd, giving a character a flaw that you share, but hey, if you're going the path of catharsis that's how it works. Plus, it makes Klavier more human, which is something Apollo at least appreciates.
Main Points:
Ace Attorney universe optional
Summary: Klavier's being picky at the restaurant, and Apollo's not pleased.
Word Count: 934
Rating: Gen
Klavier’s staring at the menu, and he seems very nervous. He’s fallen silent.
Apollo is annoyed. It’s not like it’s one of the star’s fancy restaurants; it shouldn’t be that hard to make a decision.
When the waiter comes, Klavier motions him down and whispers into his ear, handing him a card.
“Show-off,” Apollo whispers.
Klavier’s face closes down, and he stands. “Excuse me,” he mutters, accent thick, and practically flees to the bathroom.
The anger fades. That wasn’t a temper. That was hurt. Apollo’s missing something, which means it’s time for witness questioning. He stands and follows.
Klavier has locked himself inside one of the stalls, and, unfortunately, Apollo recognizes the odd choking sound his boyfriend’s making. It’s the sound Klavier makes when he’s trying, desperately, not to cry. Not in public; he still has an image to maintain, ja? Like his world is always effortlessly fine.
He knocks on the stall. Loudly. He has no such qualms. All right, it took a little while to get used to the public affection the blond was prone to giving him, but he’s not one for holding back. Never was.
“Nein,” the prosecutor sniffles. It’d be somewhat amusing if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.
Apollo puts his hands on his hips and stares at the door with the same intensity as if it were a witness. He’s pretty sure the blond can’t feel the power of his gaze through the door, but it’s worth trying anyway. “I’m not going away, Klavier. Not now, not ever.”
Prosecutor Gavin catches on to the hidden meaning behind his words, because the sniffling eases slightly, rather than increasing or the blond becoming annoyed.
“Now, I’m pretty sure this is more than being picky, so why don’t you tell me about it?”
Klavier snorts, half hysterical (like Vera’s case, Apollo thinks with no small amount of alarm). “Picky. That is a good word for it, ja?”
“Klavier,” the brunet states warningly. If there’s anything true about him, it’s that he doesn’t give up. A virtue, a flaw.
Silently, the door swings open, only for Apollo to see a tearstreaked, tanned face. It’s always been awkward dealing with crying people, and the ex-star is no exception, but he’s worth trying for, anyway. “This is a disaster. Here we are, trying to have a good time, and I ruin it.”
“The only way for you to ruin it would be for me to find out at the end of the night you ran off into the restroom to kill someone,” Justice states flatly, bluntly. “I don’t see any traces of homicide, so I think the night is still safe. No, you haven’t murdered our fun or anything,” he adds as his boyfriend opens his mouth.
Klavier manages a shaky smile, and that’s good. He doesn’t look natural if he’s not smiling. Not his fake smile, that he uses for everything and everyone, but the genuine smile that’s still a fairly regular occurrence. “You never change. It’s something I admire, schatzi.”
“Thanks. You’re avoiding the question.”
“J-ja. Sorry. I—I’m allergic.” That definitely wasn’t what Apollo had been expecting to hear, to the point his expression made the blond chuckle. “It’s a fairly serious allergy. I haven’t stopped breathing or passed out, yet, but it gets to the point where my throat begins to close up, and that’s nothing to sneeze at, ja?” Apollo tries to say something, but once the words started coming, they don’t seem to want to stop. “It’s a preservative. It’s in everything. Cosmetics—that was tricky. A million foods. It’s why I’ve actually taught myself to be a decent cook. I don’t like it, but I had to learn. It’s a pain when going out, especially as I don’t like to make it this important news. At first, vanity, an image, but as a prosecutor I’m not always the most popular. Our professions aren’t the most safe, and I don’t intend to make it easy.”
Insightful brown eyes take in the way Klavier tries to hide the slight trembling of his hands by tucking them into his pockets. “You could have mentioned that,” he says quietly as he steps toward his boyfriend and draws him into a hug. Hugs, touching in general, doesn’t come naturally to him, but he feels no qualms about using it to calm down his already nervous date.
“I want this,” the prosecutor confesses quietly, too quiet for Apollo to hear if he hadn’t been right next to the man. “At first, it was nerve-wracking. The thought that any meal could be my last, if I somehow made a mistake. I’ve gotten used to it, now, but that does not mean I don’t want this.”
“I’ve never had an allergy,” Apollo says. It feels somehow like a confession, even if it means almost nothing. “But I’m not your brother. I’m not going to sneer at you or anything. I’ll help if I can, but you have to tell me how I can help.”
The trembling increases the minute Apollo mentions Kristoph, and he realizes he’s not wrong. The elder Gavin probably saw it as a sign of weakness, sneered at his brother for being imperfect (no matter how much it was out of those fascinating, dark hands), made quiet, almost imperceptible comments if not for the way they left gaping wounds behind. And the murderer had known an almost undetectable way to get rid of his brother. Not for the first time, Apollo wishes he could punch the man in the face.
“Danke, Apollo.” The smile now, tears and all, is bright as the sun.
