Chapter Text
It was not a good sign for Klavier when the happiest greeting he got upon his return from Europe was from a dog.
"Ow, ow. Fräulein, I am not a rawhide."
He extracted the retriever's teeth from around his wrist, where there was now a row of pinkish indentations. At least, he thought the dog's greeting was happy. Her tail was wagging, anyway. She just kept biting him on the wrists with her sharp little milk teeth.
"Vongole!"
Klavier's head jerked up, and he spotted his brother walking towards him with a wan smile on his face. Vongole released his hand and ran to do a figure eight around Kristoph's legs.
"I'm back," said Klavier, after a moment of silence.
"I've noticed," said Kristoph. "How was Borgnia?"
"The same as ever, mein bruder," Klavier said, affecting a stronger accent. "We had a grand tour. Every venue was packed. Daryan was-"
Kristoph cut him off. "I assume the fact that you are back means that you are ready to take yourself seriously?"
Klavier paused a moment, fiddling with the ring on his right middle finger.
"I've been serious this whole time. Rocking, prosecuting- they are equally important. I have taken an important step in my rock career. I mean to do the same with my prosecuting career now."
Kristoph smiled at him. Klavier knew that smile- it was the smile his brother reserved for the things he thought were exceptionally stupid.
"That is good to hear, Klavier. Are you going to the prosecutor's office now? I was heading out myself; I can drop you off."
"No need," Klavier said. "I have my hog, after all. Just wanted to drop by and pay my respects first, ja?"
Kristoph pushed his glasses up a bit. "Paid in full, then. Do stop by the office sometime. I'll take you out to lunch, to celebrate your return."
"Thanks," Klavier said, unable to think of anything to add.
"I'll see you later, then," Kristoph said. "I've got to put Vongole back into the house before I leave."
"Consider getting something for her to chew on besides my hands," said Klavier, as a parting shot. Kristoph didn't even respond to this, just smiled thinly and took the dog's collar.
Klavier watched his brother's retreating back and wondered what he was expecting. Three months had gone by since they'd seen one another face to face, but Kristoph hadn't gotten a degree warmer since before he'd left. But that was normal- Kristoph had never been a sentimental person, especially when Klavier did things he disapproved of.
But now that Klavier was setting his sights on prosecuting, Kristoph would thaw a little, Klavier decided. Surely he, too, was looking forward to Klavier's first case, which was in less than two weeks- the first case in which they would face one another on opposite sides of the courtroom. That had to mean something to him.
Or maybe he was just deluding himself, in the end. He sighed heavily and drew his fingers through his bangs. He was already missing the loud clamor and warmth of the crowds as he stood there with his stupidly expensive boots getting damp from the dew on his brother's lawn. Here it was empty, empty, empty- silent, neat, and empty.
Later that day, Daryan came by the prosecutor's office to help Klavier finish unpacking. He greeted what existed of Klavier's setup with a whistle and a raised eyebrow.
"Audible, much? I dig it."
"Surely it doesn't compare to the offices at Interpol," said Klavier, who was crouching in a nest of wires behind an oversized speaker. "I hear you get free lunch service there."
"Yeah, if you like cafeteria food, I guess," said Daryan, poking at a stack of binders with his toe. "Hey, did the guitar get here yet? You know- that guitar?"
"It'll get here tomorrow," said Klavier, brow furrowed as he threaded another cord into the already-bristling power strip. "I chose comfort over speed, for that one."
Daryan shook his head, wordlessly, but Klavier paid him no mind. "That's the last one. Help me push this back."
Daryan went to the other side of the speaker and helped him push it flush against the wall. "Are three monitors really necessary here? How many pairs of eyes have you got?"
"I'm capable of multitasking," said Klavier, a bit more tersely than he normally would have. It was Kristoph, Kristoph was getting to him. "The more noise there is, the better I can think."
"Huh. I guess."
"You should worry about yourself, ja? Like figuring out how a member of Interpol that can't fly in an airplane is supposed to do his job."
Daryan flashed him a sharp grin and stroked the underside of his pompadour. "There's plenty of stuff to do on the ground, friend. What's got your hundred-dollar-panties in a twist? You still mad I couldn't come on tour?"
"You can't fly if you can't fly," said Klavier, shrugging lightly- though truth be told he still was a little irritated at having to be one band member short for a tour this important. "I went to see my brother."
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Tightass Corkscrew. I got you. Man, I get pissed off just thinking about him."
Klavier smiled. "He invited me out to lunch, you know. You should come."
"Yeah, right. Your bro hates my guts. One of us'd come out of that lunch dead or unconscious." Daryan laughed in that unpleasant way of his.
Klavier had to laugh, too, at the thought. "I can see you getting rough, but my brother's never done a single violent thing in his life."
"That's what you think, man. Your brother's cold-blooded. He swallows his prey whole so you never see the evidence."
"Did you just compare my brother to a snake?"
"Yeah, a snake, that's what I was thinking of. Why- what's so funny?"
Klavier just shook his head, grinning. The thought of Kristoph's face if he could hear their conversation now was simply priceless. He loathed reptiles and their ilk- if it wasn't mild-mannered and furry, Kristoph'd have nothing to do with it. And now it was Kristoph Gavin, the slimy belly-crawler. It was a mean thought, but it made him feel better.
"There was something else I wanted to ask you about," said Daryan.
"What?"
Daryan pulled a twelve-string guitar out of a box and strummed a chord. "That needs to be tuned, man."
"What, Daryan?"
Daryan flicked the strings with one finger. "I just wanted to ask if you were sure about the show being so soon."
Klavier frowned at him. "It's over a month away. It's our welcome-back show- it should've been sooner!"
"You know what I mean, man. So soon after your prosecuting debut. I don't want you conking out because of stress. You're already stressed. Stop giving me that look."
"Prosecuting isn't stressful," said Klavier. "It's like rock. It soothes my soul."
"You haven't even been on a case yet, Klavier."
"I am not exactly unfamiliar with how the law goes, Daryan. I've been watching Kristoph-"
"Yeah, and that's why you're gonna get stressed," Daryan cut in. "'Cause it's not just prosecuting, it's prosecuting against that frigid-ass brother of yours. And it's not just rock, it's rock in the same country as that frigid-ass brother who hates our music. I mean, whatever! You say you can handle it, you can handle it. I just hate it when you get all pissy on me over these things."
"I get pissy only when people aren't performing correctly. You do your job, Daryan, and I'll do mine. You will have nothing to worry about."
"That's not what I'm worried about," said Daryan, but he seemed ready to let the matter drop, and turned his head away, giving Klavier the benefit of his pompadour's full glory. "You almost done here? 'Cause I was gonna ask you out to lunch, too, before ol' Corkscrew got the idea."
Klavier let out a slow breath, feeling all the tension he'd gathered drain away. "Yes, of course. Let me find my keys."
It would be four days before Klavier finally showed up at Kristoph's office to take him up on his offer, and even then it was only reluctantly. Much to his surprise, it was his brother who broke first and called him.
"I thought you would stay at home since you are prosecuting now," was the first thing he'd said. Klavier had squirmed, sweaty in his undershirt in Daryan's apartment, which was sans air-conditioning at the moment.
"I've still got responsibilities to the band," he'd replied, aware that this was what Kristoph least wanted to hear. He was uncomfortably aware of the muffled blaring music coming from behind Daryan's closed door. "Besides, you and I are on opposite sides now. We shouldn't risk sharing information."
Kristoph had paused, while Klavier continued to sweat on the leather sofa.
"True enough," he had finally conceded, and Klavier sank back into the cushions. "But that does not mean we cannot treat each other like brothers anymore. Come to my office tomorrow. I'd like to see you."
And that was that.
Kristoph would want- would expect- him to show up in something formal. A suit. Something that would mark his transition from play into work. Klavier flicked open his shades. Kristoph didn't need to have everything go his way.
He secured his motorcycle, then strolled down the street, hands in his pockets. A soft gasp from his left alerted him, and he broke into an easy smile, flashing his eyes over his shades at the pair of girls standing across the street. From the sound of their titters, it was appreciated.
Klavier Gavin was a prosecutor, but he was a prosecutor who dressed the part of the Gavinners' lead guitarist and vocalist. He dressed cool, with his dark purple jacket and heavy boots and jewelry emblazoned with the band's emblem. The courtroom would be spinning the moment he walked in. That was what he wanted. It would keep spinning and he would win, and the poor defenseless "defense" would never have time to set its head straight.
Klavier paused. He'd reached his brother's office, where simple lettering spelled out his brother's name on the glass door.
Admittedly, there would be no spinning Kristoph. That would be a fight where it would be he who was kicking to stay afloat.
But if he could trounce his brother, who'd be left to stand in his way?
He entered the office and the cool relief of its air conditioning. It was surprisingly dim- the lights were off in the lobby, and only a shaft of light spilled forth from the nearly-closed door beyond. Klavier could hear a pair of soft voices. One was his brother. The other he did not recognize.
"Hold your head up more," came Kristoph's voice.
"I'm fine," came the other- very young, and very shaky-sounding. "You don't- ow!"
"Be quiet for a moment," Klavier's brother said. "Let me look at you."
Klavier took his sunglasses off and held them rather tightly in his fist. The voices dipped down to a murmur, and he strode forward, letting his boots announce his presence, and pushed open the door.
"Ah, Klavier," said Kristoph, looking up briefly from where he held another man's chin. "You caught us at a bad time, I am afraid."
"Mr. Gavin, I said I'm fine," protested the man, pulling out of his grip. Klavier noticed he had a somewhat impressive black eye beginning to develop.
"Take this, then," said Kristoph, holding out something- a damp cloth. The man took it and pressed it against his eye, flinching.
"Was ist das?" said Klavier, impatience creeping into his voice. He stared at the man. Was he a man? More like a boy, really, with his puny stature and big round forehead. His hair was slicked tightly back- well, almost, he'd clearly missed a spot in the front- and he wore a suit in a garish shade of red. It was no wonder somebody'd punched him.
"It seems we have a difficult client this time around," said Kristoph. "Now, Justice, you cannot say I didn't warn you to keep out of sight."
The kid- Justice?- said nothing, only furrowed his brow and dabbed gingerly with the cloth.
Klavier slipped his sunglasses back in his pocket, and the motion seemed to make Kristoph notice him again.
"My apologies, Klavier. This is Apollo Justice, and I promise you it was not I who gave him that lovely bruise. Mr. Justice, this is my younger brother, Klavier. He is the prosecutor for the upcoming case."
The kid turned and stared at Klavier, apparently just realizing he existed, brow furrowing even further. Klavier was a little taken aback by the intensity of it. It was unnerving- and rude.
"This is your client?"
Kristoph laughed.
"Haven't you read the case file yet, Klavier? The defendant is a forty-six-year-old man named Zak Gramarye. Mr. Justice here- I think you'll agree he looks younger than that, no?"
"I've read the file, Kristoph," said Klavier. "He is not a client for another case? Then what is he doing here?"
The kid scowled and opened his mouth. "I'm-"
Kristoph put a light hand on his shoulder, silencing him. "He's working for me, as an assistant here. He is also making his debut soon."
"This kid?" Klavier said disbelievingly, looking down at him.
"I'm twenty-two," Apollo finally broke in. "You're not exactly ancient, either, you know."
Klavier was again taken aback, this time twofold- first that the kid had talked back to him like that, and second that the kid was actually five years older than him.
"It was my plan to introduce you two today," said Kristoph. "Since you are both new, I expect that you two will face one another in court very soon. After Klavier and I conduct our trial, of course."
Apollo's eyes on him now looked dubious, and Klavier stiffened. Like he wanted to face some red-vested defense attorney fresh out of his diapers. Was Kristoph joking?
"Justice here has shown a great deal of talent," continued Kristoph, voice warningly neutral. Play nice, children. "I was very pleased when he chose to work for this office."
That seemed to snap Apollo's gaze off of Klavier- he turned to Kristoph and sputtered. "Oh, no- I haven't- I just-"
Kristoph just smiled, and Apollo fell silent.
"I know you have a personal interest in this case, Apollo," he said gently. "But I need not remind you that that is exactly why you should stay away. Emotional outbursts have no place in the courtroom, and you- well, let's just say you have an unfortunate habit." His smile broadened. "Of telling the truth."
"Mr. Gavin-"
"I can't have you upsetting my client. And it's only one case, Justice. I will see it through for you."
Apollo stayed quiet, and Kristoph gave his shoulder a light squeeze.
"I will see about our lunch now. It looks as if you'd better not go out, Justice, looking like you do." His eyes flicked briefly over Klavier, and something in Klavier's gut uncoiled. "I think I will go down the street and pick up some takeout, and we will eat here. Does that suit you, Klavier?"
Klavier hesitated.
"Or did you have somewhere else to be?" Kristoph was smiling at him now.
"Of course not," said Klavier, and sank down into the nearest chair. "Quick now, brother. I'm hungry."
"Of course," said Kristoph, with a light laugh. "Always impatient. I will hurry."
True to his word, he was out the door, leaving Klavier in the chair and the twenty-two-year-old kid- Apollo- still standing there with a rag pressed against his face.
For a moment all was silence, with only the soft ticking of the analog clock on the wall marking the seconds.
Finally Apollo said, "Interesting getup you've got going there."
I could say the same for you, Klavier thought. "Thank you. I play for the Gavinners- maybe you've heard of us?"
He said it as a joke, a jest, because everyone knew who the Gavinners were, at least everyone between the ages of fourteen to twenty-four, their designated age bracket. The band was practically an overnight sensation. They'd just come back from their first worldwide tour, for goodness' sake.
Apollo's face showed a complete and utter lack of comprehension. "The… who? Gavinners? Like, from your last name?" A sort of smirk started growing underneath the rag.
"Check the record sales, ja?" said Klavier, in no mood to be laughed at by the likes of this. Now he had a handle on Apollo. There had been hundreds just like him when Klavier had attended law school. Stuck-up, slicked back, know-it-all attorney wannabes who thought appearances won the case. Make that boring appearances. Daryan had had the same problem in police training, and he stuck out just a little more than Klavier did. He'd had a word for the slick kids who thought they were so smart- what had it been again?
"I'm sure it's a great band," said Apollo, like he was trying to mollify him. "Sorry I haven't heard of it. I've been so busy, I just don't get out much."
Klavier gazed up at Apollo's round, earnest cranium. "No worries, Herr Forehead. I am not offended."
"I'm sorry- did you just-?"
"So, how long have you been working for my brother? He's never mentioned you before."
Apollo stared at him, hard. What was with him and the staring?
"On and off, for a couple years," he said, finally. "I took an internship here a while back, and then I went to finish school. Then I applied here two months ago, and Mr. Gavin hired me."
Aha. He must have interned while Klavier had still been finishing up his education in Germany. "Two months ago, hmm? What took you so long to apply? Surely this was your first choice of work?"
Apollo gave him a loaded look, annoyance mixed with a little nervousness. "That's not your business, Mr. Ga- Prosecutor Gavin."
"I like 'Mr. Gavin' better, actually," said Klavier, and earned himself another look, this one heavy with sarcasm. "Do you enjoy working for my brother? I am afraid he can be temperamental sometimes."
"Mr. Gavin? No, he's always been fair," said Apollo, a little too quickly. "He's very good at what he does. I've learned a lot from him. I'm sure you have, too."
Klavier shrugged one shoulder, shifting in the chair, which was- as per Kristoph's taste- stylish but uncomfortable.
"In fact, I'm surprised you chose to become a prosecutor, with him for an older brother," continued Apollo. "Seems like you should want to emulate him."
"In the glorious task of defending the innocent?" Klavier smiled lazily. "Oh, no. There are true criminals out there, you know. Someone has to do the dirty work, ja?"
"I guess," said Apollo. Underneath the cloth, there was a single drop of water rolling down his jawline towards his chin.
"Haven't you ever thought that one day, you might have to defend someone who's truly guilty?" Klavier asked, and ran his fingers through his bangs. "It's all the same."
"I wouldn't defend someone who was guilty," said Apollo. Klavier raised his eyebrows at him.
"How would you ever know, though? You can't, in the end."
"I would," said Apollo. "And I wouldn't defend a guilty person."
Klavier dropped his hand and stared at him, almost impressed. A truly deluded individual. And yet, he had almost sounded… cool, for a moment. Those kinds of brash, self-confident statements of idiocy were what made rock music sell.
"Well, I guess we will find out in court, won't we?" he said.
Apollo nodded, and used the back of his free hand to wipe the droplet off his chin. Klavier's eyes were drawn to the metal bracelet on his wrist- an odd thing for such a proper-looking person to wear, especially such a large and clunky-looking piece.
"Nice bracelet."
"Thanks," Apollo said blankly. "Uh- nice necklace."
Before Klavier could respond, Kristoph returned with a bag of something warm and tasty-smelling.
"Borscht," he said briefly. "Enjoy."
Klavier flicked his eyes at Apollo, who looked away quickly, covering most of his face with the cloth.
It was a very quiet lunch.