Work Text:
Klavier is someone who knows language. To most, it might actually be surprising that he excelled in his English classes, has taken a real liking to how he can weave his words in music to create a story. He’s smart, even if he’s occasionally leaned into the common conception that he’s a bit on the dumber side.
He’s especially fascinated by German, which is obvious if one were to listen to him talk for even five minutes. He’s got an attachment to the country, a silent wistfulness that he had spent more time growing up there before he was sent to live with Kristoph. He’s taken courses, spent hours teaching himself the language that he should have learned as a child, eine Kind, and it’s resulted in also giving him the notoriety of knowing German. Which, that’s also fine. He combines them both, sprinkles German into sentences where it isn’t needed- occasionally with poor German grammar since his manager says it is more “alluring” to younger fans, which his brother hates, but people like it when his slips into German are short.
(Incidentally, he has surprised fans in Germany when he toured there. Notably, a girl who attempted to talk to him in broken English was extremely excited when it turned out he was fluent in German. They chatted for a good five minutes. Klavier thinks about her from time- he hopes she’s well. She was a good kid.)
The vaguely-afflicted European accent, that’s just for fun. He throws it out on stage, in the court. It gives him a slightly larger than life appearance. It’s worse every time he speaks to the chief prosecutor, who actually does have an accent from seven years abroad. The man doesn’t mind- he’s explained that he’s terrible with mimicry himself, that he’s been laughed at by his best friend for subconsciously adopting the accents of people he speaks with. Klavier still feels guilty about it, but if his boss is fine with it? Hey, that’s fine.
Needless to say, Klavier is in tune with words.
Which is why he’s very thrown off by a single sentence from none other than one Trucy Wright.
“I think Polly has an accent.”
She’s propped up on one of his speaker desks, the heels of her shoes rhythmically thumping against it as she swings her feet back and forth. Klavier feels like maybe she shouldn’t be here- she is a fan, and a minor at that. Magazines talk, and even if he feels nothing towards her beyond a protective urge to keep her from getting too battered up by the performing world, people do talk. Still, though, she’s a performer, and Klavier likes chatting with her. She’s smarter than her age suggests, and she’s got true talent. Plus? She’s fun.
“Does he now,” he asks as he sets a case folder down.
“I think he does!”
“Are you sure he doesn’t just have a few dipthongs in weird words? Happens, especially in Los Angeles. You pick things up. A good friend of mine had some words that did it because she was a constant at this little bario by her house.”
“No, like- well, okay, maybe I thought that at first, but he totally has an accent!”
Klavier is now very interested- that’s Trucy’s This Is Serious tone. She’s got his full attention.
“Alright, sell me on this, Frau Wright. What’s got you so convinced that our dear, sweet Herr Forehead hat einen Akzent?”
Trucy rolls her eyes- Klavier is careful to only slip into German when it’s similar to English, even if she swears she knows a bit from her aunt.
“Well- he was at the office last night while I was working on homework, waiting on a file to load, and I guess he was talking to some friend of his. And, y’know, I’m super used to what Polly sounds like when he talks on the phone, because I’m always in the office, right?”
“Right,” Klavier echoes.
“Okay, so, Polly’s talking on the phone, and I’m kinda doing my math homework but not really because it isn’t due for another few days, and all of the sudden it’s just like, he’s speaking kinda different.”
Trucy pouts as she taps her finger on her chin, and the action is so like Apollo that Klavier has to suppress the urge to ask again if they’re related, even though he knows that they aren’t. He’s asked already. Twice.
“I dunno how to, like, even describe it? It was kinda soft, and floaty.”
“Floaty?”
“Yeah, like- I dunno! It was weird! I just thought it was something that only hit a few of his words, or maybe just how he speaks sometimes when he puts emphasis on words, but he was actively doing it a lot.”
“Hmm,” Klavier says, because he’s also noticed the weird emphasis, but it’s never been something he’s focused on. Not in any of their conversations, anyways- the lingering reminder that they were both tied together intrinsically because of Kristoph was too great.
Trucy lets him think on it- he’s grateful for her, honestly. All she offers while he ruminates is the steady thud-thud-thud of her heels against his desk.
“Did you ask him about it, Trucy?”
“Uh, yeah!”
“And?”
“And he got all like, super cagey on me! Just like how he won’t tell me when his birthday is so that I can add it on the Agency calendar.”
“Cagey?” Klavier echoes, because if there’s one thing he’d like to think he knows about Apollo, it’s that he’s never been cagey. Loud and a bit unsteady on his feet, yes, but never cagey.
“Yeah! Like, he got all weird about it. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Trucy, I don’t have an accent. Except, then it was really like- like he was focusing on not having one! He was totally lying!”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah!”
Klavier leans back in his seat as he faces her.
“I’m assuming there’s a reason as to why you’ve decided to bring this up to me.”
“Well, yeah…”
Trucy plays with the fabric of her cape, looks almost sheepish as she hesitates.
“I… was hoping maybe you could listen to him and figure it out, y’know?”
“And just what makes you think it’s something I’ll recognize?”
“Well…! I know you used to tour all over the world! So you’ve probably heard a ton of languages! Maybe one will stick out to you!”
“Ja, ja, that’s fair… you have a deal.”
It’s this very reason which has Klavier swinging by the office with Trucy in tow- after all, he can’t just let her go back on her own, can he? It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him, and since he’s here, he might as well pop in and visit Apollo.
“I’m back!” Trucy calls as she opens the door. Apollo looks up at her and grins, although his face gets slightly more strained when Klavier waltzes in behind her and sits on the corner of his desk.
“Herr Forehead, it’s been a while~”
“Trucy, I thought we had a no-fop ordinance in the office.”
“Nope! That’s just for the forensics lab when Ema’s in it! I checked with Daddy!”
Apollo glares at Klavier. Klavier winks at Apollo. Apollo groans as he focuses on his computer. There’s a slight flush to his face- Klavier likes that. The man is easy to rile up, and very reactive. It’s fascinating, and something Klavier only feels slightly bad for poking at.
“Tell me, Apollo, what interesting things have you been up to today?”
“Well, until about- oh, I dunno, a minute ago, I was actually getting work done. Now I’ve got a flashy looking paperweight taking up too much of my desk.”
“Ach!” Klavier shouts as he grasps his chest above where he’s pretty sure his heart is, “you wound me! Am I nothing more than shine to you?”
“No, you’re also an annoyance.”
Trucy giggles as Klavier pouts. He pushes off of Apollo’s desk, instead opting to pull up a seat, resting an arm on it as he leans forward.
“There. Better?”
Apollo glances over at him. Like this, Klavier can appreciate his courtroom rival. There’s a level of softness to Apollo that’s almost sweet. Even as his cheeks turn a deeper red and his eyes narrow, it’s still nice.
“No, actually, it’s worse. How am I supposed to get work done with you… doing whatever it is you’re doing?”
“Easy. Go to dinner with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ah, it was worth a shot,” Klavier sighs, turning to Trucy. “Trucy, your brother is breaking my heart here. Tell him to treat me with his presence for a meal.”
“Not my sister,” Apollo grumbles under his breath.
“Maybe we can get a replacement Polly?”
“Ja? Do they sell those?”
“Dunno- we can probably check, like, Wal-Mart or something, right?”
Klavier likes the games he plays with Trucy. It’s why he’s startled when Apollo groans and bangs his head against his desk, defeated.
“You both are the worst,” is the muffled whine that comes from Apollo.
“We’re not that bad, Polly!”
“I’ve got a headache,” he complains, and Klavier’s interest is suddenly piqued. There, just slightly, is the tiniest lilt in his emphasis. He might not have noticed it if Trucy hadn’t said something earlier, but it’s present now.
“I think we’ve got Motrin in the bathroom, if you want it.”
“What I’d like is to have a solid hour or two where I don’t want to pull my hair out, but no.”
There it is again. Thicker, now.
Apollo curses under his breath. Whatever it is, Klavier’s close enough to know it isn’t English. Klavier’s eyes widen in surprise as Apollo’s narrow in suspicion.
“What, Gavin?”
“What was that, Apollo?”
The blush is back on his face, along with a scowl.
“It was nothing,” he snaps.
“What was what!”
“Gavin’s being weird, like he usually is.”
Apollo is deflecting. Unfortunately for him, while his hackles are raised, Klavier is far too interested. That, and the accent is strong right now.
Klavier can safely rule out a few suspects right off the bat. He says goodbye to all of the Nordic languages he knows, and rids out Spanish while he’s at it. Borginian can go as well- he knows what an accent sounds like for that one, and Apollo is nowhere near it.
Something a bit more eastern, then? Klavier almost wants to say Japanese, but he also knew Simon when the man was a lot younger, and while the two aren’t exactly close (nor had they been originally) Klavier does know what that sounds like. He knows a few phrases, and while that muttered curse is similar, it’s not quite there.
“Polly, you totally have an accent!”
“I do not, Trucy, you’re just imagining it.”
He definitely has one. Riled up like this, Klavier can hear it well.
“I am not!”
“You are, there’s nothing there!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Satorha!” Apollo yells, and the office falls quiet. Klavier startles- there’s the volume, yeah, Apollo’s famous for that, but the snapping is almost hurt, somehow. Trucy’s eyes are wide, a hand over her mouth.
For a moment, everything is still, and then Apollo is getting up and leaving the office. Klavier locks eyes with Trucy, who is honestly looking more shocked than anything, and then he’s leaping up and following after him.
Klavier catches Apollo as he starts down the street. He looks tense, on edge.
“Herr Justice!”
Apollo whips around, and oh- he’s got tears in his eyes that are just threatening to spill over.
“What, Gavin.”
Klavier isn’t expecting such hate to come out of Apollo, and it’s a surprise.
“Bitte, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. Drop it.”
“Apollo-”
“I said drop it, okay?”
Apollo turns away from him, pulls out his phone and angrily taps on the screen. Klavier stands there, watches as he tries to call someone. Whoever it is, the call doesn’t go through. Apollo tries again- voicemail, again.
“Dammit Clay, the one time you don’t pick up,” he growls, and it’s so choked up that Klavier can’t help wanting to fix that. Cautiously, he rests a hand on Apollo’s shoulder.
“Where do you need to go?” he asks, because he recognizes this, suddenly. There’s pain here. This is… well, Klavier knows exactly what Apollo’s feeling, even if Apollo hasn’t said it outright.
A single tear slides down Apollo’s face.
“Away.”
“I can do that. Anywhere in particular?”
“Just… not here.”
Klavier nods, walks Apollo back towards his motorcycle and hands him a helmet. Apollo squints at him.
“If you want away, then you’re being safe about it.”
Apollo shoves the helmet onto his head, buckles it with a surprising amount of ease and waits for Klavier to sit. There are immediately two arms looping around his waist, the hard press of helmet between his shoulder blades.
“You secure back there?”
“I’ve ridden on the back of a bike before, Gavin,” Apollo says quietly, and Klavier decides to let him leave it at that. There’s no nervous tightening as his motorcycle roars to life, no tense from his passenger. Klavier walks the bike back, takes off, and Apollo is calm through the entire process.
Maybe he actually has.
Klavier isn’t going to ask where this man learned to be at ease on the back of a bike, focuses instead on taking him away.
Away turns into the idea for drinks, and drinks turns into Klavier desperately craving iced coffee. So what if he’s leaning into stereotypes? He’s bisexual and dammit, iced coffee is good. There’s a cafe a few blocks down that Klavier’s familiar with- it’s quiet and the baristas there know him enough to know he’s not the biggest fan of being focused on. They’re chill there, and chill is just what Apollo needs.
When he pulls up and kills the engine, he can practically feel the eye roll from Apollo. There’s a scowl on his face, red eyes narrowed as he yanks off his helmet.
“Really? You’re taking me out? Honestly, Gavin, that’s low.”
“Nope. I’m getting coffee, you’re getting a drink, and we’re going to eat a croissant and be away for a bit. This is Apollo and Klavier, friends. ”
Apollo watches him suspiciously. Whatever he’s looking for, he must not find it- his shoulders drop as he sighs.
“Sorry, Klavier, I-”
“Nope. No apologies. Drinks first,” Klavier interrupts. Like hell he’s going to make Apollo apologize when he’s out of sorts.
The cafe is quiet. The man at the counter waves as he enters, chuckles as he crosses his arms.
“And here I thought that you were too good for us, Prosecutor.”
“Shove it, Eric, work’s been busy.”
Eric raises an eyebrow as he notices Apollo.
“Ooh, which one’s this? Kinda short and mousy- this that Debeste kid?”
“Nein, nein. Apollo Justice, defense attorney. We’ve got shared history.”
The man nods slowly.
“Ah, so I see. What’ll it be- I’m guessing the regular for you?”
“Iced, ja.”
Apollo’s staring at the menu- whatever he’s looking for, he zeroes in on it immediately.
“You have matcha here?”
Eric nods.
“Wouldn’t peg you as the type, but yeah, latte style. You want it sweetened?”
“Natural’s fine.”
Klavier also wouldn’t have thought Apollo would’ve been the type of person to drink matcha, but hey.
“That it?”
“Two croissants, bitte, and that’s it.” Klavier hands him his card. “And, uh, this isn’t former rockstar Klavier Gavin here, ja? Just two work friends.”
Eric nods as he runs the card and hands it back.
“Got it. Grab a table, I’ll send out drinks and food in a minute.”
Klavier leads Apollo over to a booth tucked into the corner of the cafe. Apollo slides in on one side, a huff of a quick laugh leaving his nose as he crosses his arms.
“You must come here pretty often?”
“It’s quiet, and the people here are good people. I’ve hidden here a few times when I was down and they gave me space.”
“Must’ve been nice.”
“It was, ja.”
The tension is thick. Klavier feels bad for the lady who brings them their drinks- she offers a pained smile as she slides them the plates, cups gently clunking onto the table. She doesn’t say anything- Klavier knows how to get their attention if he or Apollo needs a refill.
Apollo holds his mug with two hands- Klavier almost relaxes when he sees the way the tension leaves his shoulders as he breathes in.
And yet, the atmosphere...
“Y’know,” Klavier starts, and Apollo looks to him, “I moved to LA when I was little. My parents died when I was young- Kris was fresh out of school and starting college in the states, and I was… gott, ten? I lived in Nuremberg, and then suddenly I was on a plane and it was just me and Kris and my grandfather until he passed away.”
Talking about Kristoph is… not fun. Klavier knows that it’s something dangerous, he knows that, but also he knows that Apollo would probably like empathy.
“I hated it, honestly. Hated being here when I was- that was home. I begged Kris to let me study for two years in Germany when I was a teenager, and I stayed with some aunt of mine who never really liked me. Tolerated me, because I kept my head down and got good grades, and I was a quiet kid who didn’t bother her much, save for seeing her during weekends, but still.”
He sighs.
“Anyways, that’s- look. You’re in pain. I don’t know what it is, nor am I going to make you talk about it, but I know that look. You’re hurting because you miss something. Maybe someone. I felt like that for years. Felt like it again after… y’know.”
Klavier rests a hand on Apollo’s wrist briefly.
“Point is, you’re not alone in it. You’ve got people who can relate, and we care about you. We’re here for you.”
He releases Apollo’s wrist, tears off a bite of his bread, and plops it in his mouth. Apollo looks surprised, although he looks away from Klavier before he can get any further. That’s fine- Klavier doesn’t mind. It allows them both to sip their drinks at a leisurely pace.
“I… came over when I was nine,” Apollo says quietly. Klavier looks at him.
“Ja?”
“I was adopted when I was a baby- biological dad died, mom disappeared, and the man who adopted me had a- he had a son, too. His wife had died in a fire, but he was convinced she hadn’t.”
“You had family,” Klavier breathes. Apollo nods.
“Yeah. Me, my brother, my dad, and my uncle- well, my uncle was kinda like my second dad, and I think they probably liked each other, but there was a lot, uh… a lot going on.”
Apollo’s being vague. Klavier can respect that.
“I understand.”
“My dad… it was getting real bad, where we lived. I think he felt guilty, because my own dad died when his wife did. Same fire. And so, uh, he managed to get me on a plane out here, to Los Angeles. Dropped me off at an orphanage- he always promised he’d come back when things got better, but…”
Apollo shrugs.
“It’ll be fourteen years in less than two weeks.”
Klavier gasps.
“Apollo…”
“Fourteen years since I’ve seen any of them. Since I’ve heard anything from them. I’ve lived over half my life away from them. I miss them. They might not even think about me anymore, but I miss them so much.”
“You were just a kid,” Klavier echoes.
“Yeah… yeah.”
The silence increases again.
“I… tried to isolate myself from it, when I was thirteen. Realized he probably wouldn’t ever come back. I had gotten teased because my accent was kinda thick, and I worked really hard on fixing that.”
Klavier wants nothing more than to wrap the man across from him in a hug.
“Apollo,” he breathes, and it’s pained. Apollo chuckles.
“It’s fine, honest,” he assures. “I’m still kinda touchy about it.”
“That’s- I can understand that.”
“So… can I ask a question?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I figure, if you haven’t mentioned where, then you probably aren’t going to tell me where you were before LA.”
“That’s correct.”
“Then answer me this- what was it that you said? In the office?”
“Wh- satorha?”
“Ja. That. What’s it mean?”
Apollo frowns as he presses against his forehead. It’s charming. Klavier has to push that away from his mind- he’s not here to think about his cute rival, he’s here to be a friend.
“I don’t know if there’s a proper way to translate it, honestly. Technically it’s like- like if someone’s daydreaming, you’re waking them up from it. Like a reality check?”
“Ah, so if you were telling someone to focus.”
“Yeah- kinda. It’s more of a scolding thing. Like, if there was a nicer way to say get real, or wake up. Dh- my father, he used to tell me and my brother that when we got into fights over nothing.”
Klavier nods. Apollo’s words are a bit scattered, the explanation not as strong as it could be for reasons he’s going to chalk up to sheer lack of speaking the language, but it’s fine. He wants so badly to question that stutter, wants to sit and listen to Apollo talk about a lot, actually. Like this, in the safety of their little booth and Apollo’s steaming green latte, his voice is soft with a gentle float to it.
“Hopefully I’m not the first person to tell you, but it really is a nice accent.”
Apollo rolls his eyes.
“Thanks, Gavin. Here I thought we were almost having a moment, and then you come in with the cheesy one-liner.”
“No, ach, I mean it!”
Klavier panics, struggles to figure out how best to explain, and then he notices the slight crinkles in Apollo’s eyes as he hides behind his cup- Klavier realizes this is Apollo messing with him. He’s smiling.
“You’re really that insistent on this being a friend thing that you’re gonna miss such an obvious cue? I couldn’t have been more obvious if I tried.”
“Bite me, Apollo,” Klavier sighs as he lets out a soft laugh.
“Nah, I’ve got actual food in front of me. Maybe next time.”
Apollo has the audacity to wink- he winks at Klavier as he takes another sip of his drink. This is the Apollo that Klavier likes to see- he’s confident, sure of himself. It’s a nice look.
“When did you get so sassy, Herr Forehead?”
“I figured it’d be alright for me to sass you. You did just give me your tragic backstory, after all, and then I gave you part of mine.”
“Ah, so I see.”
Apollo grins, at ease, and the mood lightens. There’s a ping on Klavier’s phone- it’s Trucy, asking if Apollo is okay. He responds in short- he will be.
“Y’know, Apollo, I really did mean it,” he says, and Apollo focuses on him, brown eyes watching carefully.
“Mean what?”
“The accent. It’s nice. I like it- it suits you. I don’t know what it is, but it just- it fits.”
Apollo raises an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I mean, I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment or not, especially when you’ve got the whole afflicted European accent thing going on.”
“Ach, yeah,” Klavier sighs.
“But uh… thanks. Really. Only other person who hasn’t given me shit about it is Clay, but we’ve been friends for years.”
“So he’s been lucky enough to reach a high enough friendship level to unlock your tragic backstory?”
Apollo snorts.
“God, you’re a dork.”
“Maybe so.”
“No, you’re definitely a dork. No non-dork would do weird stuff like write on mirrors with lipstick.”
“It’s tradition! Herr Forehead, you cannot be telling me that you’ve never heard of that!”
“How the hell is that tradition?”
“It’s like- you have to! I don’t make the rules!”
Apollo doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. The realization that he’s never heard about backstage traditions twists Klavier’s heart in a vice grip.
“You’ve at least heard of like- of the Macbeth curse.”
“The what?”
“Apollo, please tell me you’re joking.”
“I have literally no idea what the Macbeth curse is.”
Klavier’s face must dip to horrified, because Apollo starts giggling.
“Holy shit, Gavin, you- you looked like I just kicked a puppy.”
“You’re serious?!”
“Of course I’m not! Clay did lights for school plays, and he’d sneak me up into the booth during performances because he wanted the company. He yelled at me about it when I asked.”
“Danke Gott, I was about ready to cry.”
“I can tell. I’ve never seen you go so immediately do grief like that.”
“I can’t believe that you hurt me so, Apollo. My heart is breaking.”
“Shut up, it is not.”
Klavier clutches at his chest for added emphasis. Apollo rolls his eyes, leans over the table and smacks him. The darkness over the table lifts as Klavier pretends to sob in these big, dramatic heaves that make Apollo whine about Klavier “overreacting”.
And, yeah, it may be overreacting, but Apollo? He doesn’t look upset anymore. It’s like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Even as they both leave the cafe (Apollo does need to go back to the Agency, after all. Whoever this “Clay” guy is, he’s his ride, and Apollo refuses to let Klavier drive him home) and hop on Klavier’s motorcycle, there’s still a lightness to his chatter. Once again, Klavier is surprised by how comfortable Apollo is on the back of his bike.
“My uncle,” Apollo says, when Klavier finally drops him off.
“Hm?”
“You seemed like you were expecting me to be weird about riding on your motorcycle,” Apollo explains. “My uncle had a motorcycle. He’d take my brother and I into town and we’d help him grocery shop. Used to ride on it all the time.”
“Ah,” Klavier responds, mostly because he wasn’t expecting it at all.
“He was cool like that. Cool bike, big knife, loud laugh. Real friendly.”
“Guess all that’s stopping you from being like him is the knife and the bike, then?”
“Maybe. My dad was an attorney, so I guess I snagged that from him,” Apollo says, and then- “...not the dead one. The other one.”
“Ah,” Klavier says again.
Apollo places his helmet on Klavier’s motorcycle, sets it in the saddlebag Klavier pulled it from.
“Thanks, Pr- Klavier.”
“Not a problem. You needed it.”
The lawyer looks a bit nervous.
“You’re… not terrible, y’know. I know we go toe-to-toe a lot, but… you’re a decent guy.”
“Danke, I try. You’re not so bad yourself.”
Apollo smiles, and it makes Klavier’s chest feel tight.
“Guess I better go back in before Trucy files a missing persons report.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh trust me, she would.”
Klavier nods, kicks the kickstand back up and prepares to head out.
“Klavier!”
That’s his name! Klavier turns back- Apollo has his arms crossed. The kickstand goes back down.
“Ja?”
There are two arms wrapped around him, suddenly, a head tucked in his neck. It catches Klavier off guard- he sways slightly with the force, but he’s got enough mind to wrap both arms around Apollo and take a breath. The man is warm from where he can feel it through his jacket. Hair that’s surprisingly soft when Apollo doesn’t let go and Klavier allows himself to rest his face on top of his head. And, y’know, maybe it toes the line of strictly platonic, but Klavier can’t help the slight inhale as his shoulders drop and he exists like this. Apollo smells nice (does he wear cologne, Klavier wonders) and is good at hugging.
All too soon, Apollo pulls away, cheeks a blotchy red as he refuses to look anywhere but Klavier’s eyes.
“Thanks. Again. For the cafe.”
“Anytime.”
Klavier smirks.
“Maybe next time I’ll actually take you out properly, where I ask and you agree.”
Apollo does look at him this time, probably sees the doofy grin on Klavier’s face as he watches the man.
“Guess you’ll have to keep trying.”
“I guess I will.”
They stand like that for a minute, just existing. Klavier decides that it’s a good place to break off.
“I guess I’m leaving. Auf Wiedersehen, Apollo.”
“Ala’wakare.”
“What-”
“Goodbye, Klavier.”
There’s accent in Apollo’s farewell, and it makes Klavier grin as his face feels warm.
“See you around, then,” he calls as he revs his engine and takes off into the evening.