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foxysquidalsoI guess I'll post this here, now that I can!
Title: Eighteen and Up
Pairings, Characters: Klavier/Apollo, Phoenix/Apollo, Gumshoe
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word count: 4,900
Summary: Apollo has a problem, and it's written all over his face. In fact, it is his face. Which, in his opinion, makes him look far too young.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pw_contest, for the prompt "minor character". My interpretation of the theme is admittedly a pun, but aren't puns what Ace Attorney is all about?
"Don't take it so seriously, Apollo," said Phoenix.
It was easy for him to say that. "Don't take it seriously? How am I supposed to take it?"
"It was a simple mistake."
Apollo seated himself on the couch, pointedly. He folded his arms and scowled, more pointedly. "I know what it was. But if you had to deal with things like that all the time, you would be annoyed, too."
"I can't have you scaring away our clients, Apollo."
"Oh, please. That guy wasn't going to be our client. He might have been out on bail, but he was clearly guilty."
"Perhaps. I think you might be a bit biased, in this case."
"No, I'm not." If the man had been innocent, he would have agreed to represent him, however reluctantly, but there had been no danger of that. Although if he had been innocent, he would have been a typical client: the kind who gave Apollo a lot of trouble. Fortunately, Apollo's case docket remained clear, because he wouldn't work for a man who had referred to him as "little boy" and had asked to talk to his father. Adding insult to previous insult, the prospective client had, upon glimpsing Phoenix, assumed that he was the father in question. Phoenix Wright was only about ten years older than he was, and in no way resembled anyone who was old enough to be Apollo's parent. He hoped that when the man's case went to trial, Klavier Gavin would prosecute him and get him put away for at least several years.
"No, I guess you're right," said Phoenix. "Honestly, I think he made that mistake largely because I'm so decrepit in my old age."
Apollo's mood was not lightened by having to hear yet another of his boss' old man jokes. "That doesn't explain the little boy comment."
"Maybe he was a very sarcastic individual, who was so intimidated by your sophistication that--"
"That's enough," interrupted Apollo, raising his voice so that Phoenix could hear an echo of his Chords of Steel. He rose to his feet, with even more meaning and forcefulness in the action than he had put into the act of sitting down. "I'm going out."
"Out?"
"That's right. I'm sure you can handle the huge amount of work I'm leaving you with."
"I'm starting to think that you're the very sarcastic individual around here, Mr. Justice."
"No, Mr. Wright. That would be you."
"Apollo, I'm hurt. I was being sincere."
Apollo rolled his eyes. "Bye, Mr. Wright. Maybe without me distracting you, you'll get something done, for once."
By the time that he found himself outside, striding down the sidewalk, Apollo realized that he hadn't thought through his going out plan very well, as he didn't have a particular destination in mind. That was fine, though. He liked going on walks, so he could simply walk. People Park was near enough and green enough that he found himself heading there. He could see the trees in the distance as soon as he stormed out of the agency, and they beckoned him with their promise of calm.
It was a false promise. On such a sunny day, after school had let out, the park was crowded with the people it had been named after. Apollo found himself tensing up instead of relaxing, forced to dodge skateboarders and bicyclists as he tried to make his way from one side of the park to the other, searching in vain for a little peace. Finally, more defeated than relaxed, he planted himself on one of the park benches with a sigh. He ran a hand back over his hair. Maybe he'd overreacted, but it had been getting under his skin lately, all the comments about his age--that is, what people imagined his age to be.
You can't possibly be a lawyer!
You don't look any older than eighteen.
Hey kid, what are you doing here? This place is for grown ups.
Don't worry, Herr Forehead, I think it's the youthful glow from your ample brow that confuses them.
The last one made him scowl, and he was so caught up in remembering that particular incident that he didn't notice someone had sat down beside him until they said, "Hello."
Apollo started and turned to see a girl on the other side of the bench, smiling at him. "Oh. Hi. I didn't see you there."
"How are you?" she asked.
Apollo didn't think he'd ever seen this particular girl before. She wasn't one of Trucy's friends, was she? No, he was pretty sure he remembered all of them, unless she was one that he'd only met in passing at the Wonder Bar, which was not impossible. "I'm okay," he said. "Can I help you with something?"
"No, I just thought I'd say hi."
"Okay," said Apollo. For lack of any other ideas, he said again, "Hi."
She laughed. "Um, so, what school do you go to?"
Oh no. This couldn't be happening. The girl was Trucy's age, if not younger. "I don't go to school."
"Really? Why not?" she asked. "Are you home schooled or something?"
"I'm twenty-two," he said. "I've already graduated from law school."
She stared at him, eyes wide, then reddened. He felt bad for embarrassing her, but what else could he do? He had to be honest. After a moment, she laughed. "You're joking."
"No," said Apollo, rising to his feet, with an apologetic smile. "I'm a lawyer. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
Thankfully, his apartment was a sanctuary. He was the only person there, and he knew how old he was. He collapsed onto his bed and sighed. His life had been this way since he'd been in elementary school. People had always thought he'd been in an earlier grade than he was. In junior high, strangers had thought he was an elementary school student. In high school, he'd been taken for a junior high student. When would it end? Now that he was fully adult and had a career of his own, he would have thought people would at least start assuming he was a college student, but he was still mistaken for a high schooler on a regular basis.
When would his air of maturity kick in? Would that day ever come?
Apollo glared at his ceiling. He didn't succeed in making a dent in it. He supposed he should call Mr. Wright and tell him that he wasn't going to be coming back, but he was still annoyed, and there was time for him to change his mind and return to work. He probably had overreacted to that prospective client. As an attorney, he needed to get better at controlling his negative reactions. Getting upset wasn't professional of him. Not that he wanted to adopt Phoenix's lackadaisical persona, but surely there was a middle ground?
He decided that he'd probably feel better after washing his face and eating a little something. He forced himself to get up, although part of him wanted to stay in bed and not move until he finally looked his age, or at least his age group.
Scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror didn't make him feel any better. If he were to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he did have what was generally known as a "baby face". He looked deep into his own eyes and asked himself: what if his face never really caught up with his actual age? What if it just started to wrinkle up until he looked like an old baby?
Apollo laughed nervously to himself and quickly splashed water on his face. That couldn't really happen, could it? No, he was being paranoid, and also ridiculous. As the water rolled down his face, he blinked several times and studied his face again. Cold comfort that it was, by the time he was forty, he'd probably look like a twenty-two year old at last.
Until then, what was he supposed to do? Where dating was concerned, his problem was a fairly serious one. Everyone assumed he was a kid. He wanted a nice, normal relationship, with someone roughly his age. Or maybe someone a bit older, but not someone older who thought he was a lot younger. He splashed yet more water on himself, then covered his face with cleanser. After working up a light foam, he did some more splashing, then toweled himself off. He was sure to wipe his bracelet dry.
The mirror still showed him himself. He scowled at it, then tried to look serious, to see if that made him look any older. It didn't. "You're an idiot," he told himself. There was no way he could compete in the dating arena. He pressed his fingertips to his cheeks and pulled his skin down until it almost looked like his face was melting off. Now, that was really sexy.
He turned away and let his hands fall, disgusted with himself. Since when did he care about being sexy? It seemed to be a relatively recent development. What did sexiness matter? He had more important things to worry about.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
The call was picked up almost at once. "Hello, Wright Anything Agency, Phoenix Wright speaking."
"Mr. Wright."
"Yes, Phoenix Wright speaking."
"Phoenix, this is your cell, and you know who I am!"
"Ah, yes, Mr. Justice."
"Do you need me to come back in today?"
"Nope," said Phoenix, "I think I've got things covered here."
"Good."
"Though it is pretty busy. My phone's been ringing off the hook."
Apollo viewed this claim with suspicion. "Is it? Who called?"
"You, for one," said Phoenix.
"Me for one, or me, the only one?"
"Hmm," Phoenix pondered. "Can I pick both?"
"Yes, fine," Apollo sighed.
"You're coming back in tomorrow though, aren't you?" Phoenix asked.
"Of course I am. I'm not quitting or anything."
"That's a relief. I was worried I was going to have to hire a new attorney."
"If that was the case, you'd be right to worry, because you'd never get another attorney to work for you."
"Heh. Yes. I'm lucky, I guess."
"You are."
"I'll see you tomorrow then, Apollo—oh, wait."
Apollo waited. "What?"
"I just remembered I have to do something with Trucy tomorrow. Why don't you take the day off and come by around dinnertime? Maybe six or so?"
"Sure, that sounds fine." It was slightly unusual, but that made it usual for Phoenix. "Bye." Apollo hung up the phone. He suddenly found himself with two days off, more or less. That was more than enough time to take a nap.
He returned to his bed. The problem was, the kind of people he was interested in weren't interested in him. He closed his eyes, and he couldn't help himself. All that thinking about sexiness had had an effect on him. As soon as his eyes were shut, he pictured Prosecutor Gavin's tan skin and golden hair, his bright smile and shining rings.
Klavier might have taken him seriously in court—sometimes—but outside of it, the man seemed to delight in teasing him. First, there were the forehead comments. Then, the jokes about his taste in music, which he had admittedly started by teasing Klavier first, but it was Klavier who had kept it up. Worst were the comments about his age. He didn't want Klavier Gavin to think he looked young, to say that he had a baby face and make as if to pinch his cheek, causing Apollo to dodge him desperately, face burning.
Klavier was surrounded by admirers wherever he went. He could probably date anyone he wanted, although Apollo wasn't entirely sure if he was dating anyone, because he was too embarrassed to ask. He wasn't even sure if Klavier liked men. It was difficult to tell, since he flirted with everyone. In any case, there was no reason for him to pay Apollo any particular attention, especially not like that. He didn't know why he was letting himself think about it, when it was clearly hopeless.
You're so cute, Herr Forehead.
Though "cute" wasn't a mature or manly compliment, and the word had been coupled with the "forehead" thing, Apollo smiled at the memory of Klavier saying those words. He was sure Klavier had been teasing him, but Apollo liked to think he'd meant it a little.
With that happy thought in mind, he curled up and went to sleep.
When he awoke, hours must have passed. He blinked, sat up, and yawned. Turning toward the window, he saw that the sky was dark. That wasn't a problem. He hadn't had any plans for the afternoon. He got up and changed his clothes, as he'd fallen asleep in them, then washed his face again. A nap had improved his spirits. Maybe he hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, because a few hours' rest had left him feeling refreshed.
As well as refreshed, he was restless. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier in the day. He had to do something about it. If he wanted a date, he should go and find one. Tackling problems head on: that was the Apollo Justice way, wasn't it? Yes, it was. He felt compelled to leave the apartment and take action. He might not have had anywhere in particular to go, but that didn't mean he couldn't go somewhere. As soon as he was washed, dressed, and had eaten a snack, he dashed out the door.
It was a nice night. Instead of riding his bike, as he often did, Apollo decided to walk. People Park was quieter now, lit by the light shining down from dozens of lampposts. As he made his way down the various paths and lingered to gaze at the light shining on the water of the stream that ran through the park, no one approached him to ask what school he went to, or talked to him at all, which suited him just fine.
After leaving the park, he strolled past the agency and hesitated there. He almost went over to knock on the door and check to see how Phoenix and Trucy were doing, but at the last minute, he decided not to bother them. He was an adult. He could spend the evening on his own and entertain himself. He was resourceful; he would find something fun to do.
Yet he found himself sticking to places he knew instead of exploring new ones: the neighborhood near the agency, the blocks surrounding Ema's apartment, the courthouse. He chastised himself when he realized he was half-hoping he would run into someone he knew. He couldn't keep going to the same places with the same people if he wanted his luck to change. The problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He could have gone to a bar, but that didn't sound like something he'd want to do on his own. The only time he liked going to bars was when Ema took him to the cop bar, which was kind of fun.
Where else did people meet people? The grocery store? The library? No, definitely not the library, because as much as he liked it there, people would assume he was a student working on a report. The grocery store was a silly idea to begin with, and he'd already done his shopping for the week. He sighed to himself, putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to just date a random person. He wanted a good date. He was picky.
"Excuse me, pal?"
Apollo looked up. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he had hardly realized that he'd almost walked into a tall, middle aged man wearing a trenchcoat. "Oh, sorry!"
The man looked down at him thoughtfully. He seemed to take a while to arrive at a decision. "Hey, I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question."
Apollo hadn't had good luck with people asking him questions recently, but he saw no reason to refuse, as the man seemed friendly enough. "Uh, no, I don't mind?"
"You do know it's after ten, right?"
"No, I didn't exactly know that, but—" Apollo saw what he was getting at. The curfew. "I'm not under eighteen, sir," he said tiredly. "I'm twenty-two."
"That's great, pal!" The man smiled broadly. "Then you won't mind showing me an ID."
"Sure, I have it right—" Apollo reached in his pocket and frowned. He might have been refreshed following his nap, but he apparently hadn't been as alert as he'd believed. He had his keys with him, but he'd dashed out of the apartment without his wallet. He sighed. Who even enforced the curfew? It couldn't have been more than an hour past ten, and what trouble could he have gotten into where he was, even if he had been a rebellious juvenile? He was no more than a block or two from the police station. "Ugh, I forgot it."
"Sorry." The man frowned and, to his credit, he did seem sincerely sorry. "But it's against the law for anyone under eighteen to be out in public after ten. I know about the law. I'm a detective."
"But I'm a lawyer," protested Apollo.
"You are?"
He didn't have to look so surprised about it. "Yes, I work for—" Apollo broke off. He had become suddenly aware of something that smelled very good drawing very close to him, and then an arm wrapping itself around his shoulders. A hand clasped his arm. He glanced down at it. It was covered in rings.
"It's all right, Detective Gumshoe," said a maddeningly familiar voice. "I can vouch for this particular young man."
"Oh! Yes sir, Prosecutor Gavin, sir." The detective beamed happily and trustingly at Klavier Gavin, in that unmistakable, fawning way that detectives always looked at prosecutors—well, most detectives. "Carry on then, sir. Nice to meet you, kid."
"I'm not a kid," said Apollo through clenched teeth, but the detective didn't hear him, as he was already walking away with a cheery wave.
"Isn't this a pleasant surprise?" said Klavier, smiling down at him. "I see you've gotten yourself in trouble again, nicht wahr?"
"Not really," said Apollo. As he gazed up at Klavier, he grew dimly aware of the fact that he was grinning in spite of his annoyance, and he hoped his smile didn't resemble the detective's in any way. Defense attorneys weren't supposed to look at prosecutors that way! "I'm fine! It was just a minor misunderstanding."
"I see. But don't worry, you won't have any more problems now. I'm prepared to serve as your guardian and escort you wherever you need to go."
"Klavier, you're not my guardian. That's a little weird, don't you think?"
"Ja, I'm only joking, of course."
"Good." Klavier's arm was still over his shoulder. Apollo was in no hurry for him to move it, so he remained still, hoping that it would stay where it was.
Klavier's arm didn't stir. "Still, it's my responsibility to look after you, now that I've vouched for you. Where are you headed this evening?"
"I was just--" Apollo remembered he didn't know where he was going. "Just going on a walk. Nowhere special."
"How fortunate. Because I've been wrapping up a few things I had to deal with at the precinct, and now I am going somewhere. How would you like to accompany me?"
"I'm sorry, I can't. I forgot my wallet, so I don't--"
Klavier held up his free hand. "Nein. You don't need such things when you're with me."
"Oh. That's good, since I don't have them."
Klavier laughed. "It's so good to see you, Herr Justice."
"You too," said Apollo, although he wished that Klavier had come across him in a more dignified state—not being questioned about his age by a detective who suspected him of being underage.
"Let's go, then." Finally, Klavier pulled his arm away, but it was but a temporary separation, Apollo saw, as Klavier led the way to his motorcycle.
"Where are we going?" Apollo asked.
Klavier winked. "We're going to rock."
As always, the prosecutor was telling the truth. As Apollo sat behind the man on his motorcycle, he had only the vaguest idea of what lay ahead of him, but soon he discovered what it truly was Klavier meant by the verb "to rock". He was used to visiting the smoky but relatively sedate cop bar with Ema. He was not quite as used to a whirlwind tour of the trendiest clubs in the city or being whisked into VIP rooms in which people he vaguely recognized, who were probably famous musicians, chatted to Klavier and to Apollo himself. They treated him as if he had every right to be there, although he felt more than slightly out of place. None of the bouncers asked him for his ID or money. When they saw Klavier, they waved the two of them through immediately, all smiles.
"Do you drink?" Klavier asked him. "I'll get you something."
"No, I don't drink a lot. Not on work nights, anyway."
"Ja, I don't either," said Klavier. "But do you dance?"
"Not really."
"Now, on that count, I'm afraid I must insist. You have to dance with me. Come here. I'll be your coach. Since you're my responsibility tonight."
Apollo laughed nervously, but he didn't resist when Klavier's arm encircled him again.
By the time Klavier dropped Apollo off, it was nearly morning. The eastern sky was faintly rosy. They were both tired after hours of dancing. Apollo felt shaky and sweaty as he climbed off Klavier's motorcycle, but the prosecutor was there to lend him an arm. Klavier walked him to his door, still playing the part of his escort. "Thank you. That was wonderful, Apollo. The best date I've been on recently."
Apollo was speechless for a moment. He could feel his eyes threatening to widen, and he willed his expression to be neutral. "That was—a date?" he asked.
"Ja. At least, I hope it was. Perhaps I've misunderstood?"
"No, no. It was a date! If you wanted it to be. It definitely was."
"That's good. Then—I hope it won't be ungentlemanly of me to ask for a kiss?"
"That would be fine," said Apollo.
Klavier laughed, softly. "I am glad you approve." He leaned in and kissed Apollo's mouth. The kiss was not a hasty one. It lasted quite some time. When Klavier at last pulled back, he was still smiling. Perhaps he'd been smiling the whole time, if one could kiss and smile simultaneously. "That was very nice. Thank you again, Herr Justice."
"No need to thank me," said Apollo, breathless.
"Ja, maybe not, but it's my pleasure. I can see you again this weekend, I hope?"
"Yes, please."
Klavier kissed him several more times before riding off into the sunrise on his motorcycle, and Apollo reflected that today was already a much better day than yesterday had been. He was glad he had taken a nap in the afternoon, because he probably would have been too exhausted to make it up his building's stairs into his apartment if he hadn't. He barely managed to make it back into bed before he passed out.
He woke up early in the afternoon. For a confused moment, he thought he'd missed work, but then he remembered two important facts: 1. He worked for Mr. Wright, so it wouldn't have mattered if he'd come in late, and 2. Mr. Wright was away for the day and wouldn't be back until the evening.
Apollo wasn't sure why Mr. Wright wanted to see him that evening, but anything was possible. He spent most of the day recuperating from his night with Klavier. Klavier texted him at least five times before it was time for Apollo to swing by the office, which was nice. It felt good to be sought after.
When Apollo arrived at the Wright Anything Agency, he found the windows dark. It looked like nobody was home. Maybe Mr. Wright had gotten held up, wherever it was that he'd gone. Apollo had a key of his own, but he knocked on the door before trying to use it, because that felt more polite.
The door swung open almost at once, and Phoenix popped out, looking more disheveled than usual. "Hello, Mr. Justice."
"Hello," said Apollo uncertainly. He had identified the reason why Phoenix looked unusually unkempt. It was because he wasn't wearing his hoodie, which was casual, but usually was mostly smooth. Instead, he was wearing a wrinkled blue suit jacket and red tie. It was a bit odd to see him wearing that, since he was also wearing his track pants and his hat.
"Come in," said Phoenix, with slightly unnerving brightness.
Apollo stepped into the dark agency as Phoenix stepped aside to make way for him. "Why are the lights out?"
"Because we're closed," said Phoenix, as if that made sense. They didn't have to sit around in the dark simply because they weren't open for business.
"Okay," Apollo said nonetheless, humoring his boss as he often did. "Where's Trucy?"
"She's with her Uncle Valant. That's where I took her today. They're going to some kind of magic retreat. Or contest. Or something like that."
"That's cool. I hope they learn a lot. Or win. Depending on what they're actually doing."
"I'm sure they will, whatever they're doing," said Phoenix. At least he had faith in his daughter, if not accurate information. "So," Phoenix changed the subject quickly. "I hope you recovered from the grave blow to your ego that you suffered yesterday."
"Yes." There was a light in the kitchen, and Apollo moved toward it, instinctively. "In fact, something really funny happened—" He didn't finish his sentence. He'd been about to tell Phoenix about his date with Klavier, in spite of the fact that Phoenix was bound to tease him about it, but what he saw in the kitchen made him reconsider his words.
"And what's that?" Phoenix asked, right behind him.
Apollo stared at the kitchen table. It had a cloth on it. "Well," he said slowly, "I almost got in trouble for breaking curfew. Even though I'm not a minor."
"That is pretty funny," Phoenix agreed, "though it's also the kind of thing that would usually annoy you quite a lot."
"I guess I got over that," Apollo said.
"Desensitized through overexposure?"
"Probably." Apollo nodded. He hadn't been able to look away from the table, upon which, as well as a tablecloth, there were lit candles and glasses of what looked like wine but was probably grape juice. Also, what appeared to be a basket of dinner rolls. "I see you made dinner," he said warily.
"That's right. I thought that since I was a lonely old bachelor tonight, maybe we could eat together."
"That's very nice of you," said Apollo. "Thanks."
"Have a seat." Phoenix pulled out a chair for him.
Moving forward, with the feeling that he might not have really woken up and was in the middle of a strange dream, Apollo crossed the kitchen floor slowly and seated himself in the offered chair. "Phoenix?" he asked.
"Yes, Apollo?"
"Is this—a date?" It seemed he wasn't much good at identifying dates when they appeared, so he figured he might as well ask right away.
"What gives you that idea?" Phoenix predictably evaded his question.
"The fact that this is a candlelit dinner, and that the smoke coming from the oven smells expensive."
"Oh, shit!" said Phoenix, making a dash for the oven.
Apollo sat very still in his chair and watched him perform damage control. It was a date, wasn't it? He, Apollo Justice, was going on his second date in two days.
He had thought that no one he'd be interested in would find him attractive, but amazingly, he had been wrong. Could it be that he was too sexy? No, it would be vain to think that, but he couldn't deny that there were two handsome men interested in him. What was he going to do now? Did he have to pick one of them? Could he date them both at the same time? Did he want to?
"Ta daa," said Phoenix, turning around with an only lightly smoking dish of—something—in his arms. He set it down gingerly on the table in front of Apollo, then gave a hopeful, if crooked, grin.
"Looks great," Apollo lied, deciding that kindness was more important than honesty, for once. There was something very endearing about this dinner, and it made him realize: he did want to date them both. The trouble was, he didn't have much experience dating one person, let alone two. The last thing he wanted was to hurt anyone's feelings, but how was he going to manage to avoid that?
Apollo already felt weary, and he had only begun to date. Things had gotten so complicated, so fast. It seemed that growing up had brought new and greater challenges.
Title: Eighteen and Up
Pairings, Characters: Klavier/Apollo, Phoenix/Apollo, Gumshoe
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word count: 4,900
Summary: Apollo has a problem, and it's written all over his face. In fact, it is his face. Which, in his opinion, makes him look far too young.
Notes: Written for
pw_contest, for the prompt "minor character". My interpretation of the theme is admittedly a pun, but aren't puns what Ace Attorney is all about? "Don't take it so seriously, Apollo," said Phoenix.
It was easy for him to say that. "Don't take it seriously? How am I supposed to take it?"
"It was a simple mistake."
Apollo seated himself on the couch, pointedly. He folded his arms and scowled, more pointedly. "I know what it was. But if you had to deal with things like that all the time, you would be annoyed, too."
"I can't have you scaring away our clients, Apollo."
"Oh, please. That guy wasn't going to be our client. He might have been out on bail, but he was clearly guilty."
"Perhaps. I think you might be a bit biased, in this case."
"No, I'm not." If the man had been innocent, he would have agreed to represent him, however reluctantly, but there had been no danger of that. Although if he had been innocent, he would have been a typical client: the kind who gave Apollo a lot of trouble. Fortunately, Apollo's case docket remained clear, because he wouldn't work for a man who had referred to him as "little boy" and had asked to talk to his father. Adding insult to previous insult, the prospective client had, upon glimpsing Phoenix, assumed that he was the father in question. Phoenix Wright was only about ten years older than he was, and in no way resembled anyone who was old enough to be Apollo's parent. He hoped that when the man's case went to trial, Klavier Gavin would prosecute him and get him put away for at least several years.
"No, I guess you're right," said Phoenix. "Honestly, I think he made that mistake largely because I'm so decrepit in my old age."
Apollo's mood was not lightened by having to hear yet another of his boss' old man jokes. "That doesn't explain the little boy comment."
"Maybe he was a very sarcastic individual, who was so intimidated by your sophistication that--"
"That's enough," interrupted Apollo, raising his voice so that Phoenix could hear an echo of his Chords of Steel. He rose to his feet, with even more meaning and forcefulness in the action than he had put into the act of sitting down. "I'm going out."
"Out?"
"That's right. I'm sure you can handle the huge amount of work I'm leaving you with."
"I'm starting to think that you're the very sarcastic individual around here, Mr. Justice."
"No, Mr. Wright. That would be you."
"Apollo, I'm hurt. I was being sincere."
Apollo rolled his eyes. "Bye, Mr. Wright. Maybe without me distracting you, you'll get something done, for once."
By the time that he found himself outside, striding down the sidewalk, Apollo realized that he hadn't thought through his going out plan very well, as he didn't have a particular destination in mind. That was fine, though. He liked going on walks, so he could simply walk. People Park was near enough and green enough that he found himself heading there. He could see the trees in the distance as soon as he stormed out of the agency, and they beckoned him with their promise of calm.
It was a false promise. On such a sunny day, after school had let out, the park was crowded with the people it had been named after. Apollo found himself tensing up instead of relaxing, forced to dodge skateboarders and bicyclists as he tried to make his way from one side of the park to the other, searching in vain for a little peace. Finally, more defeated than relaxed, he planted himself on one of the park benches with a sigh. He ran a hand back over his hair. Maybe he'd overreacted, but it had been getting under his skin lately, all the comments about his age--that is, what people imagined his age to be.
You can't possibly be a lawyer!
You don't look any older than eighteen.
Hey kid, what are you doing here? This place is for grown ups.
Don't worry, Herr Forehead, I think it's the youthful glow from your ample brow that confuses them.
The last one made him scowl, and he was so caught up in remembering that particular incident that he didn't notice someone had sat down beside him until they said, "Hello."
Apollo started and turned to see a girl on the other side of the bench, smiling at him. "Oh. Hi. I didn't see you there."
"How are you?" she asked.
Apollo didn't think he'd ever seen this particular girl before. She wasn't one of Trucy's friends, was she? No, he was pretty sure he remembered all of them, unless she was one that he'd only met in passing at the Wonder Bar, which was not impossible. "I'm okay," he said. "Can I help you with something?"
"No, I just thought I'd say hi."
"Okay," said Apollo. For lack of any other ideas, he said again, "Hi."
She laughed. "Um, so, what school do you go to?"
Oh no. This couldn't be happening. The girl was Trucy's age, if not younger. "I don't go to school."
"Really? Why not?" she asked. "Are you home schooled or something?"
"I'm twenty-two," he said. "I've already graduated from law school."
She stared at him, eyes wide, then reddened. He felt bad for embarrassing her, but what else could he do? He had to be honest. After a moment, she laughed. "You're joking."
"No," said Apollo, rising to his feet, with an apologetic smile. "I'm a lawyer. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
Thankfully, his apartment was a sanctuary. He was the only person there, and he knew how old he was. He collapsed onto his bed and sighed. His life had been this way since he'd been in elementary school. People had always thought he'd been in an earlier grade than he was. In junior high, strangers had thought he was an elementary school student. In high school, he'd been taken for a junior high student. When would it end? Now that he was fully adult and had a career of his own, he would have thought people would at least start assuming he was a college student, but he was still mistaken for a high schooler on a regular basis.
When would his air of maturity kick in? Would that day ever come?
Apollo glared at his ceiling. He didn't succeed in making a dent in it. He supposed he should call Mr. Wright and tell him that he wasn't going to be coming back, but he was still annoyed, and there was time for him to change his mind and return to work. He probably had overreacted to that prospective client. As an attorney, he needed to get better at controlling his negative reactions. Getting upset wasn't professional of him. Not that he wanted to adopt Phoenix's lackadaisical persona, but surely there was a middle ground?
He decided that he'd probably feel better after washing his face and eating a little something. He forced himself to get up, although part of him wanted to stay in bed and not move until he finally looked his age, or at least his age group.
Scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror didn't make him feel any better. If he were to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he did have what was generally known as a "baby face". He looked deep into his own eyes and asked himself: what if his face never really caught up with his actual age? What if it just started to wrinkle up until he looked like an old baby?
Apollo laughed nervously to himself and quickly splashed water on his face. That couldn't really happen, could it? No, he was being paranoid, and also ridiculous. As the water rolled down his face, he blinked several times and studied his face again. Cold comfort that it was, by the time he was forty, he'd probably look like a twenty-two year old at last.
Until then, what was he supposed to do? Where dating was concerned, his problem was a fairly serious one. Everyone assumed he was a kid. He wanted a nice, normal relationship, with someone roughly his age. Or maybe someone a bit older, but not someone older who thought he was a lot younger. He splashed yet more water on himself, then covered his face with cleanser. After working up a light foam, he did some more splashing, then toweled himself off. He was sure to wipe his bracelet dry.
The mirror still showed him himself. He scowled at it, then tried to look serious, to see if that made him look any older. It didn't. "You're an idiot," he told himself. There was no way he could compete in the dating arena. He pressed his fingertips to his cheeks and pulled his skin down until it almost looked like his face was melting off. Now, that was really sexy.
He turned away and let his hands fall, disgusted with himself. Since when did he care about being sexy? It seemed to be a relatively recent development. What did sexiness matter? He had more important things to worry about.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
The call was picked up almost at once. "Hello, Wright Anything Agency, Phoenix Wright speaking."
"Mr. Wright."
"Yes, Phoenix Wright speaking."
"Phoenix, this is your cell, and you know who I am!"
"Ah, yes, Mr. Justice."
"Do you need me to come back in today?"
"Nope," said Phoenix, "I think I've got things covered here."
"Good."
"Though it is pretty busy. My phone's been ringing off the hook."
Apollo viewed this claim with suspicion. "Is it? Who called?"
"You, for one," said Phoenix.
"Me for one, or me, the only one?"
"Hmm," Phoenix pondered. "Can I pick both?"
"Yes, fine," Apollo sighed.
"You're coming back in tomorrow though, aren't you?" Phoenix asked.
"Of course I am. I'm not quitting or anything."
"That's a relief. I was worried I was going to have to hire a new attorney."
"If that was the case, you'd be right to worry, because you'd never get another attorney to work for you."
"Heh. Yes. I'm lucky, I guess."
"You are."
"I'll see you tomorrow then, Apollo—oh, wait."
Apollo waited. "What?"
"I just remembered I have to do something with Trucy tomorrow. Why don't you take the day off and come by around dinnertime? Maybe six or so?"
"Sure, that sounds fine." It was slightly unusual, but that made it usual for Phoenix. "Bye." Apollo hung up the phone. He suddenly found himself with two days off, more or less. That was more than enough time to take a nap.
He returned to his bed. The problem was, the kind of people he was interested in weren't interested in him. He closed his eyes, and he couldn't help himself. All that thinking about sexiness had had an effect on him. As soon as his eyes were shut, he pictured Prosecutor Gavin's tan skin and golden hair, his bright smile and shining rings.
Klavier might have taken him seriously in court—sometimes—but outside of it, the man seemed to delight in teasing him. First, there were the forehead comments. Then, the jokes about his taste in music, which he had admittedly started by teasing Klavier first, but it was Klavier who had kept it up. Worst were the comments about his age. He didn't want Klavier Gavin to think he looked young, to say that he had a baby face and make as if to pinch his cheek, causing Apollo to dodge him desperately, face burning.
Klavier was surrounded by admirers wherever he went. He could probably date anyone he wanted, although Apollo wasn't entirely sure if he was dating anyone, because he was too embarrassed to ask. He wasn't even sure if Klavier liked men. It was difficult to tell, since he flirted with everyone. In any case, there was no reason for him to pay Apollo any particular attention, especially not like that. He didn't know why he was letting himself think about it, when it was clearly hopeless.
You're so cute, Herr Forehead.
Though "cute" wasn't a mature or manly compliment, and the word had been coupled with the "forehead" thing, Apollo smiled at the memory of Klavier saying those words. He was sure Klavier had been teasing him, but Apollo liked to think he'd meant it a little.
With that happy thought in mind, he curled up and went to sleep.
When he awoke, hours must have passed. He blinked, sat up, and yawned. Turning toward the window, he saw that the sky was dark. That wasn't a problem. He hadn't had any plans for the afternoon. He got up and changed his clothes, as he'd fallen asleep in them, then washed his face again. A nap had improved his spirits. Maybe he hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, because a few hours' rest had left him feeling refreshed.
As well as refreshed, he was restless. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier in the day. He had to do something about it. If he wanted a date, he should go and find one. Tackling problems head on: that was the Apollo Justice way, wasn't it? Yes, it was. He felt compelled to leave the apartment and take action. He might not have had anywhere in particular to go, but that didn't mean he couldn't go somewhere. As soon as he was washed, dressed, and had eaten a snack, he dashed out the door.
It was a nice night. Instead of riding his bike, as he often did, Apollo decided to walk. People Park was quieter now, lit by the light shining down from dozens of lampposts. As he made his way down the various paths and lingered to gaze at the light shining on the water of the stream that ran through the park, no one approached him to ask what school he went to, or talked to him at all, which suited him just fine.
After leaving the park, he strolled past the agency and hesitated there. He almost went over to knock on the door and check to see how Phoenix and Trucy were doing, but at the last minute, he decided not to bother them. He was an adult. He could spend the evening on his own and entertain himself. He was resourceful; he would find something fun to do.
Yet he found himself sticking to places he knew instead of exploring new ones: the neighborhood near the agency, the blocks surrounding Ema's apartment, the courthouse. He chastised himself when he realized he was half-hoping he would run into someone he knew. He couldn't keep going to the same places with the same people if he wanted his luck to change. The problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He could have gone to a bar, but that didn't sound like something he'd want to do on his own. The only time he liked going to bars was when Ema took him to the cop bar, which was kind of fun.
Where else did people meet people? The grocery store? The library? No, definitely not the library, because as much as he liked it there, people would assume he was a student working on a report. The grocery store was a silly idea to begin with, and he'd already done his shopping for the week. He sighed to himself, putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to just date a random person. He wanted a good date. He was picky.
"Excuse me, pal?"
Apollo looked up. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he had hardly realized that he'd almost walked into a tall, middle aged man wearing a trenchcoat. "Oh, sorry!"
The man looked down at him thoughtfully. He seemed to take a while to arrive at a decision. "Hey, I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question."
Apollo hadn't had good luck with people asking him questions recently, but he saw no reason to refuse, as the man seemed friendly enough. "Uh, no, I don't mind?"
"You do know it's after ten, right?"
"No, I didn't exactly know that, but—" Apollo saw what he was getting at. The curfew. "I'm not under eighteen, sir," he said tiredly. "I'm twenty-two."
"That's great, pal!" The man smiled broadly. "Then you won't mind showing me an ID."
"Sure, I have it right—" Apollo reached in his pocket and frowned. He might have been refreshed following his nap, but he apparently hadn't been as alert as he'd believed. He had his keys with him, but he'd dashed out of the apartment without his wallet. He sighed. Who even enforced the curfew? It couldn't have been more than an hour past ten, and what trouble could he have gotten into where he was, even if he had been a rebellious juvenile? He was no more than a block or two from the police station. "Ugh, I forgot it."
"Sorry." The man frowned and, to his credit, he did seem sincerely sorry. "But it's against the law for anyone under eighteen to be out in public after ten. I know about the law. I'm a detective."
"But I'm a lawyer," protested Apollo.
"You are?"
He didn't have to look so surprised about it. "Yes, I work for—" Apollo broke off. He had become suddenly aware of something that smelled very good drawing very close to him, and then an arm wrapping itself around his shoulders. A hand clasped his arm. He glanced down at it. It was covered in rings.
"It's all right, Detective Gumshoe," said a maddeningly familiar voice. "I can vouch for this particular young man."
"Oh! Yes sir, Prosecutor Gavin, sir." The detective beamed happily and trustingly at Klavier Gavin, in that unmistakable, fawning way that detectives always looked at prosecutors—well, most detectives. "Carry on then, sir. Nice to meet you, kid."
"I'm not a kid," said Apollo through clenched teeth, but the detective didn't hear him, as he was already walking away with a cheery wave.
"Isn't this a pleasant surprise?" said Klavier, smiling down at him. "I see you've gotten yourself in trouble again, nicht wahr?"
"Not really," said Apollo. As he gazed up at Klavier, he grew dimly aware of the fact that he was grinning in spite of his annoyance, and he hoped his smile didn't resemble the detective's in any way. Defense attorneys weren't supposed to look at prosecutors that way! "I'm fine! It was just a minor misunderstanding."
"I see. But don't worry, you won't have any more problems now. I'm prepared to serve as your guardian and escort you wherever you need to go."
"Klavier, you're not my guardian. That's a little weird, don't you think?"
"Ja, I'm only joking, of course."
"Good." Klavier's arm was still over his shoulder. Apollo was in no hurry for him to move it, so he remained still, hoping that it would stay where it was.
Klavier's arm didn't stir. "Still, it's my responsibility to look after you, now that I've vouched for you. Where are you headed this evening?"
"I was just--" Apollo remembered he didn't know where he was going. "Just going on a walk. Nowhere special."
"How fortunate. Because I've been wrapping up a few things I had to deal with at the precinct, and now I am going somewhere. How would you like to accompany me?"
"I'm sorry, I can't. I forgot my wallet, so I don't--"
Klavier held up his free hand. "Nein. You don't need such things when you're with me."
"Oh. That's good, since I don't have them."
Klavier laughed. "It's so good to see you, Herr Justice."
"You too," said Apollo, although he wished that Klavier had come across him in a more dignified state—not being questioned about his age by a detective who suspected him of being underage.
"Let's go, then." Finally, Klavier pulled his arm away, but it was but a temporary separation, Apollo saw, as Klavier led the way to his motorcycle.
"Where are we going?" Apollo asked.
Klavier winked. "We're going to rock."
As always, the prosecutor was telling the truth. As Apollo sat behind the man on his motorcycle, he had only the vaguest idea of what lay ahead of him, but soon he discovered what it truly was Klavier meant by the verb "to rock". He was used to visiting the smoky but relatively sedate cop bar with Ema. He was not quite as used to a whirlwind tour of the trendiest clubs in the city or being whisked into VIP rooms in which people he vaguely recognized, who were probably famous musicians, chatted to Klavier and to Apollo himself. They treated him as if he had every right to be there, although he felt more than slightly out of place. None of the bouncers asked him for his ID or money. When they saw Klavier, they waved the two of them through immediately, all smiles.
"Do you drink?" Klavier asked him. "I'll get you something."
"No, I don't drink a lot. Not on work nights, anyway."
"Ja, I don't either," said Klavier. "But do you dance?"
"Not really."
"Now, on that count, I'm afraid I must insist. You have to dance with me. Come here. I'll be your coach. Since you're my responsibility tonight."
Apollo laughed nervously, but he didn't resist when Klavier's arm encircled him again.
By the time Klavier dropped Apollo off, it was nearly morning. The eastern sky was faintly rosy. They were both tired after hours of dancing. Apollo felt shaky and sweaty as he climbed off Klavier's motorcycle, but the prosecutor was there to lend him an arm. Klavier walked him to his door, still playing the part of his escort. "Thank you. That was wonderful, Apollo. The best date I've been on recently."
Apollo was speechless for a moment. He could feel his eyes threatening to widen, and he willed his expression to be neutral. "That was—a date?" he asked.
"Ja. At least, I hope it was. Perhaps I've misunderstood?"
"No, no. It was a date! If you wanted it to be. It definitely was."
"That's good. Then—I hope it won't be ungentlemanly of me to ask for a kiss?"
"That would be fine," said Apollo.
Klavier laughed, softly. "I am glad you approve." He leaned in and kissed Apollo's mouth. The kiss was not a hasty one. It lasted quite some time. When Klavier at last pulled back, he was still smiling. Perhaps he'd been smiling the whole time, if one could kiss and smile simultaneously. "That was very nice. Thank you again, Herr Justice."
"No need to thank me," said Apollo, breathless.
"Ja, maybe not, but it's my pleasure. I can see you again this weekend, I hope?"
"Yes, please."
Klavier kissed him several more times before riding off into the sunrise on his motorcycle, and Apollo reflected that today was already a much better day than yesterday had been. He was glad he had taken a nap in the afternoon, because he probably would have been too exhausted to make it up his building's stairs into his apartment if he hadn't. He barely managed to make it back into bed before he passed out.
He woke up early in the afternoon. For a confused moment, he thought he'd missed work, but then he remembered two important facts: 1. He worked for Mr. Wright, so it wouldn't have mattered if he'd come in late, and 2. Mr. Wright was away for the day and wouldn't be back until the evening.
Apollo wasn't sure why Mr. Wright wanted to see him that evening, but anything was possible. He spent most of the day recuperating from his night with Klavier. Klavier texted him at least five times before it was time for Apollo to swing by the office, which was nice. It felt good to be sought after.
When Apollo arrived at the Wright Anything Agency, he found the windows dark. It looked like nobody was home. Maybe Mr. Wright had gotten held up, wherever it was that he'd gone. Apollo had a key of his own, but he knocked on the door before trying to use it, because that felt more polite.
The door swung open almost at once, and Phoenix popped out, looking more disheveled than usual. "Hello, Mr. Justice."
"Hello," said Apollo uncertainly. He had identified the reason why Phoenix looked unusually unkempt. It was because he wasn't wearing his hoodie, which was casual, but usually was mostly smooth. Instead, he was wearing a wrinkled blue suit jacket and red tie. It was a bit odd to see him wearing that, since he was also wearing his track pants and his hat.
"Come in," said Phoenix, with slightly unnerving brightness.
Apollo stepped into the dark agency as Phoenix stepped aside to make way for him. "Why are the lights out?"
"Because we're closed," said Phoenix, as if that made sense. They didn't have to sit around in the dark simply because they weren't open for business.
"Okay," Apollo said nonetheless, humoring his boss as he often did. "Where's Trucy?"
"She's with her Uncle Valant. That's where I took her today. They're going to some kind of magic retreat. Or contest. Or something like that."
"That's cool. I hope they learn a lot. Or win. Depending on what they're actually doing."
"I'm sure they will, whatever they're doing," said Phoenix. At least he had faith in his daughter, if not accurate information. "So," Phoenix changed the subject quickly. "I hope you recovered from the grave blow to your ego that you suffered yesterday."
"Yes." There was a light in the kitchen, and Apollo moved toward it, instinctively. "In fact, something really funny happened—" He didn't finish his sentence. He'd been about to tell Phoenix about his date with Klavier, in spite of the fact that Phoenix was bound to tease him about it, but what he saw in the kitchen made him reconsider his words.
"And what's that?" Phoenix asked, right behind him.
Apollo stared at the kitchen table. It had a cloth on it. "Well," he said slowly, "I almost got in trouble for breaking curfew. Even though I'm not a minor."
"That is pretty funny," Phoenix agreed, "though it's also the kind of thing that would usually annoy you quite a lot."
"I guess I got over that," Apollo said.
"Desensitized through overexposure?"
"Probably." Apollo nodded. He hadn't been able to look away from the table, upon which, as well as a tablecloth, there were lit candles and glasses of what looked like wine but was probably grape juice. Also, what appeared to be a basket of dinner rolls. "I see you made dinner," he said warily.
"That's right. I thought that since I was a lonely old bachelor tonight, maybe we could eat together."
"That's very nice of you," said Apollo. "Thanks."
"Have a seat." Phoenix pulled out a chair for him.
Moving forward, with the feeling that he might not have really woken up and was in the middle of a strange dream, Apollo crossed the kitchen floor slowly and seated himself in the offered chair. "Phoenix?" he asked.
"Yes, Apollo?"
"Is this—a date?" It seemed he wasn't much good at identifying dates when they appeared, so he figured he might as well ask right away.
"What gives you that idea?" Phoenix predictably evaded his question.
"The fact that this is a candlelit dinner, and that the smoke coming from the oven smells expensive."
"Oh, shit!" said Phoenix, making a dash for the oven.
Apollo sat very still in his chair and watched him perform damage control. It was a date, wasn't it? He, Apollo Justice, was going on his second date in two days.
He had thought that no one he'd be interested in would find him attractive, but amazingly, he had been wrong. Could it be that he was too sexy? No, it would be vain to think that, but he couldn't deny that there were two handsome men interested in him. What was he going to do now? Did he have to pick one of them? Could he date them both at the same time? Did he want to?
"Ta daa," said Phoenix, turning around with an only lightly smoking dish of—something—in his arms. He set it down gingerly on the table in front of Apollo, then gave a hopeful, if crooked, grin.
"Looks great," Apollo lied, deciding that kindness was more important than honesty, for once. There was something very endearing about this dinner, and it made him realize: he did want to date them both. The trouble was, he didn't have much experience dating one person, let alone two. The last thing he wanted was to hurt anyone's feelings, but how was he going to manage to avoid that?
Apollo already felt weary, and he had only begun to date. Things had gotten so complicated, so fast. It seemed that growing up had brought new and greater challenges.
