Apollo had been working. He had been very concentrated. He had been ready to finish the paperwork that had been slowly but surely growing in the left corner of his desk for the better of two weeks. Had.
He'd been doing all of these things until he heard a faint knock on the door of the Anything Agency. He promtly ignored it, 'its almost 9 o clock, whos knocking at this time?' he thought, but was rewarded with a loud yell. "Herr Forehead open up!"
The now definitely not concentrated man got up from his desk with an audible groan and navigated his way through various magical trinkets to the door. "Yes, Prosecutor Gavin?"
The man opposite of Apollo, as expected, was Klavier Gavin– six feet of well-proportioned tan-ness (weren't Europeans supposed to be pale?) , topped off with a silly, twirly braid. Apollo, being an unflattering five-foot-seven, had to bend his neck considerably (embarassingly) to make eye contact with his courtroom rival and friend. The latter of the two looked over the former's short head into the Agency. "Mind if I come in?"
"Yes, actually," Apollo huffed. "I'm working, and its almost, no–" he checked his phone–"just past nine. This is not the time to randomly drop by."
"I am aware of the time, Herr Forehead," Klavier said. "And this isnt a random drop-by. I texted you." Apollo turned on his phone again to realize that what his visitor said was true. "So you did," he said, then frowned. "Wait. How and why do you know my number?" "I asked the detective frau for it for, ach," the glimmerous fop paused. "For emergencies. Ja." Apollo's bracelet tightened slightly about his wrist, but its owner hardly needed it to tell that the European was lying.
Apollo glared at his friend, squinted his eyes, and tried to send him a telepathic message. "PLEASE. LEAVE. PLEASE. LE-"
His attempt at telepathy was interrupted by the supposed recipient putting his hands on his hips and pressing his face a mere foot from Apollo's. "Please, Herr Forehead? I just want to talk to you for einen zweite!"
"Fine," Apollo muttered. "Fine, fine. Fine. I'm fine. Fine." He almost tripped over his own bare feet as he made his way to the couch. Klavier followed, shutting the door behind him.
"So," Apollo grabbed his coffee off of a pile of miscellaneous whatevers stacked upon what was probably a table and took a sip. "What do you want?" Klavier, somewhat shocked at how his friend could drink coffee at nine in the evening, paused a few seconds before responding. "Ach," he pointed to a space beside Apollo. "Do you mind?" Without waiting for an answer, he plopped almost not-socially-acceptably close to the coffee-drinking boy. He then simply stared at Apollo. The latter leaned slightly away, his uncomfort being heightened by the...thing shining in Klavier's eyes. He didn't know what it was, which scared him even more.
"Er, Prosecutor Gavin?" he asked, setting down his coffee cup.
"I don't know how to say this Herr Forehead," Klavier laughed nervously. "Let me just...ja, let me show you." He pushed a strand of hair out of his face, grabbed Apollo's skinny wrists, and leaned forward.
The younger attorney tried to pull his hands away. "Prosecutor Gavin, please let go of–mmmmnnm!" His open lips were met softly with Klavier's, the blond's tongue flicking inside the mouth of his captor. Klavier pushed heaping amounts of passion into the kiss, hoping to draw out a significant reaction from the other man.
He got a significant reaction, if the complete opposite of what he wanted.
Apollo flailed wildly, his arms breaking free and proceeding to hit the kisser painfully. He slammed his mouth closed, teeth narrowly missing Klavier's tongue. His eyes began to fill with fear and tears. (Mind you, this all happened in less than a few seconds.)
Their faces jerked apart, Klavier looking quite hurt (understandably). Apollo rushed to the bathroom covering his mouth with one hand and the other smoothing back his antennae as bile sneaked up his throat. He got to the toilet just as the sick burst from his lips into the bowl. He kneeled up to the toilet, retching over and over, sobs mixing with vomit as his throat became raw.
"Apollo, oh mein gott, Apollo, I'm so sorry, are you alright? I'm so sorry, oh mein gott, oh mein GOTT," Klavier arrived in the doorway with a glass of water, offering it to the ill man. When the boy stopped vomiting, he took it gratefully, but Klavier was careful not to touch Apollo's fingers.
"Thank you," Apollo murmured. "I'm fine, now." He took a cautious sip of the water, closing his brown eyes as more tears unconsciously slipped out over his pale cheeks. He resumed his position over the toilet.
"I'm so sorry, I just wanted to say I love you but I wouldn't have if I had known you were so disgusted by me. I'm so sorry," Klavier rambled on, slipping in random, sad-sounding German jargon. "I called your sister and her father, they should be here any minute now–"
"'Pollo?" Phoenix called as he opened the door. "Apollo, is everything okay?" Quick, heavy footsteps followed by lighter, quieter ones found their way down the hall. "Polly! Again?" Trucy exclaimed, pushing past the depressed German man to hug Apollo. "We are lucky you came to help our Apollo," Phoenix turned to Klavier, a somewhat apologetic expression on his face. "This kind of happens a lot. But would you please tell us exactly what happened?"
Klavier stopped looking helplessly at Apollo to stare stiffly at Phoenix. "Herr Wright, I am so, so sorry. And I would not question you if you did not allow me to approach your, ach, son outside of court." And with that, he exited the bathroom.
"Mr Gavin," Phoenix cried, chasing after him. "I doubt this by any means is your fault!" Apollo got up from his kneeling position, pushing his sister to the floor (who had been soothingly rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet).
"Prosecu–KLAVIER!" His Chords of Steel, though quite raspy, seemed to still be in working order. "Come ba–"
Apollo visibly wilted as he heard the Wright Anything Agency door slam closed.