madimpossibledreamer

( Center of Attention )

           Apollo’s watching the blond really closely when he hands the birthday present over.  If he was someone else, or wasn’t paying so much attention, he would’ve missed it.
           “Ah, that’s…a very thoughtful gift.  Danke.”  Klavier is grateful, but Apollo’s bracelet tightens, just a little, and the blond won’t look at him, playing with his hair instead.
           “You don’t sound like you really liked it.  I could always get something else.”  His finances and wallet will cry a little, but he really wants his boyfriend to be happy.
           “Come on, play it!  I want to hear!”  Trucy’s bouncing.
           “Ahh.”  And a sheepish smile.  “It seems I can’t stop embarrassing myself around you, eh, Schatzi?”
           The thought that pops into his head is ridiculous, but he has to ask anyway.  “You…can’t read sheet music, can you, Klavier?”
           The smile doesn’t shift, but the nonchalant way he places his hands in his pockets says he’s trying to act casual.  “I don’t know why I’m acting as if it’s this big secret; I already answered that question ages ago in an interview.  Nein, I can’t.  I do everything by ear.”
           It’s all Apollo can do to keep his expression straight, but he decides to take a leaf out of Clay’s book to put Klavi at ease.  “So, I guess neither you nor Lamiroir could sight-read?”
           The magician immediately gags.  “You’re the worst, Polly!”
           “Ach, that’s terrible.”  But he’s smiling.  Trucy isn’t, though, and she tackles him off the couch.

            “Danke, Schatz.”  Klavier presses a kiss to the top of Apollo’s head, holding the door to his car open like it’s some sort of chariot.  (Actually, if the price tag is any indication, it sort of is.)  Apollo flushes, trying to banish images of friendly smiles and those tanned hands filling up bowls and that stupid apron.
            “I wouldn’t have thought this was the sort of way you would’ve wanted to spend Valentine’s,” he admits quietly.  He thinks about repeating himself, wonders if it’s even worth it, but by the suddenly quiet, thoughtful man climbing into the driver’s seat, he knows that Gavin has heard him.
            They drive for a while in a quiet, comfortable, expectant silence, and then Klavier speaks.  “Actually, it’s amazing.  I wish I had thought of it.”  He begins humming something under his breath as he turns the vehicle smoothly, and Apollo’s yet again served as a muse.  The defense isn’t sure how he feels about this, your Honor, but I’ll figure it out.
            “It’s perfect, really.  Your typical romancing—well, you are hardly a typical love, are you?  You deserve something special, something you’ll enjoy.  And we are lucky, very much so, but what about all those out there?”  He gestures briefly, before putting his hand back firmly on the wheel.  (It had been a little bit of a surprise to learn that Klavier was actually a firm believer in vehicle safety, which didn’t fit the image of a former rock star but fit the man Apollo had come to know.)  He pauses, then chuckles quietly.  “And, also, I had been worrying about security.  The fans are most persistent today of all days.”
            It explained a lot, and Apollo can’t help the laugh that starts until it grows out of control, him holding his side and with tears in his eyes.  Klavier glances over, a smile in his eyes, and bites his lip.  “TV at mine?”
            Nothing sounds as good after a good day’s work than lazing around in pajamas and watching shows, so Apollo nods, still unable to talk.

            “I’m so sorry,” Apollo mutters glumly.  It’s slightly surprising, really.  Herr Forehead tends to be a bit downcast, like a raincloud.  Or perhaps a thunderstorm, ja?  Considering how fiercely he fights when he gets the chance.  Just like lightning.  But it’s a bit less personal.  It’s rather a German mindset.  Somewhat like Schadenfreude, but relating to the whole world.  He complains about the workload, mutters dark predictions to Fraulein Trucy, and takes a strange, perverse pleasure in being correct.  That, of course, means that it’s all the more precious to surprise him when things go right; to see the look of joy and victory and just a touch of utter astonishment on his face when he wins a case, or to surprise him with sweet, unexpected nothings.  (It had taken Apollo a while to be persuaded that it wasn’t an attempt to butter him up for some larger scheme, but with his Bruder, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all.)

            Klavier leans in closer, rests his forehead against a red-clad shoulder, because Apollo smells nice and the apartment does not.  “It is hardly as if you broke them on purpose, Schatz.  I’m sure a repairman will come tomorrow, since they don’t want water damage any more than you do.”

            Justice mutters under his breath, “I think you’re overestimating the amount that the landlord cares,” but he adjusts his position slightly to fit a little more snugly into the prosecutor’s arms.

            “You didn’t say it was this bad.”  To anyone who didn’t know him, Apollo’s voice was accusing, but Klavier doesn’t flinch.

            “You didn’t ask,” he replies gently, and his boyfriend makes a face.

            “Okay, we really need to get better at this.  I’ll cross examine you every day, and you will be more forthcoming and helpful than any witness I’ve ever had up there on the stand.”

            Klavier smiles.  A tired smile, but he’s smiling.  “That would not be difficult,” he says, and kisses Apollo’s hand before holding it gently.