I apologize in advance for the Hamilton reference. It found its way into the draft and I didn't have the heart to let it die. :)

Thank you for all your kind reviews and support.

Much love, doze

Alfred stepped into the courtroom at Arthur's side, feeling like he was stepping into the arena. Everything about the courtroom felt new and fresh as if the previous day had never happened. He got to enter and sit at Arthur's table only feet from the judge and jury.

With uncharacteristic patience, Arthur explained his argument in a whisper to Alfred. Even let Alfred look over his notes. Until yesterday, Alfred had never really gotten to see Arthur's handwriting. Unlike the chicken scratch of Alfred's law professors, Arthur's handwriting curved elegantly with perfect loops and hooks. It looked like the Declaration of Independence 2.0. Old and antique and... Alfred glanced up at the focused attorney beside him... and very Arthur.

The judge announced the beginning of the session, and Arthur stood to introduce Alfred. "Your honor, this is my associate, Alfred Jones, and he will be observing us this morning."

This statement seemed to bring quite a few laughs from the prosecution. Particularly from a young lawyer close in age to Arthur with long, bouncing blonde hair. If Arthur heard their laughter, he made no sign of it, stacking his papers and calling his next witness to the stand.

Watching Arthur's interrogation was nothing short of incredible. He worked the witnesses with charm, with menace, with accusation, with flattery. And he always seemed to get exactly what he wanted. Only a few times could the prosecution manage objections and many times did the judge overrule them.

After his last witness, Arthur settled beside Alfred again with a sigh, the corners of his lips quirked. The young prosecutor who had laughed so hard at Arthur stood to interrogate their client. Alfred had learned that his name was Francis Bonnefoy.

"Now, Mr. Yoo," Francis began with nearly as sleazy and charming a smile as Arthur. "You would say Mr. Kingsley was deserving of a fallout, would you not?"

"Objection. Speculation." Arthur crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows at Francis who merely smirked back.

"Sustained."

"Let me rephrase." Francis continued. "Do you consider Mr. Kingsley's treatment of you to be unfair?"

"Objection."

"On the basis of what?" Francis turned to smile charmingly Arthur's way, but Alfred saw his eye twitch.

"Too general."

They both looked towards the judge. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland. Overruled."

"Well, he was always very hard on his underlings," Mr. Yoo said carefully. Alfred saw him glance nervously Arthur's way, uncertain how to proceed.

"Answer the question please." Francis glanced down at his notes.

"Yes, then. I don't see how it is relevant." Mr. Yoo brushed down his jacket, flustered.

"And if something, say the loss of a bunch of money, were to befall Mr. Kingsley, you would have no remorse?"

"Objection." Arthur sat up straight this time. "Relevancy."

Francis scowled. "Are you going to object to everything I say?"

"With pleasure." Arthur smiled. "Your honor?"

"I imagine it is relevant, Mr. Kirkland. As Mr. Kingsley did lose a 'bunch of money' as Mr. Bonnefoy so elegantly put it. Overruled."

Alfred expected Arthur to be upset, but he only smiled charmingly and settled back into his seat. "All in good time," He muttered to Alfred. Arthur let Francis continue with his interrogation more or less unhindered. When the time came for closing arguments, Arthur stood to give his first, pacing back and forth in front of the jury. And this was Arthur's real talent, Alfred realized.

The man was a true orator, painting Mr. Yoo as the party wronged and making the DA sound utterly incompetent for bringing the case to trial at all. At the same time, his warm smile and debonair dress made him seem impossible to disagree with. When he sat down, Alfred couldn't help but shake his head. His ears buzzed with all of Arthur's 'suggestions'.

Then, Francis Bonnefoy stood up and the tables flipped. Alfred had never heard of Francis, although he imagined if he had interned at the DA's office he would have heard of him real fast. Francis took up Mr. Kingsley's mantle as if it were his own, and he had been bamboozled by sleazy Mr. Yoo and his crooked attorney Arthur. He had a strong French accent which seemed just the match for Arthur's English one.

Alfred tried to guess the sway of the jury, but it was impossible. Once the jury had been dismissed, he turned to Arthur. "Looking good? Bad?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to catch Mr. Yoo eavesdropping. "Superb, I should say. We have this in the bag."

At the same time, Alfred realized that Mr. Bonnefoy was also listening in. It was nearly impossible to have a private conversation in court.

"I'm going to the toilet," Arthur announced, rather unnecessarily. He stood up and as he did, he nonchalantly grabbed the edge of Alfred's sleeve and tugged. After Arthur had left, he took his cue and headed for the men's restroom.

He found Arthur, splashing his face with water in an empty bathroom. "That was incredible."

Arthur looked up, raising his thick eyebrows.

"That was so incredible," Alfred said again, for lack of anything else to say. The phrase just repeated itself over and over again in his head.

"My goal in life is to render you speechless, Alfred," Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes. "Don't dissuade me. I know it's impossible, but I have my heart set on it."

"Ha. Ha." Alfred skipped forward to lean against the counter beside him. "So good or bad?"

"It could go either way," Arthur responded neutrally, but there was a sparkle in his eye. "You'll have to wait and see."

"It's not a suspense drama, Arthur," Alfred complained lightly.

"Alfred, I could not possibly get into the jury's heads so effectively as you seem to think. I cannot read minds."

"Doubtful." Alfred grinned.

"Mph. So what did you think of Francis?"

"Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"If you must insist on giving him a title." Arthur shrugged, running his fingers through his hair as he examined his reflection in the mirror.

"He was good," Alfred murmured. "I didn't expect him to counter you so well."

Arthur shrugged brutishly. It was one of the most ineloquent responses Alfred had ever seen from him, and after that incredible courtroom performance it was very noticeable. "Sometimes he provides competition."

Alfred cocked his head curiously, watching as Arthur fiddled with his tie. "Well, Francis was very good with the jury, too. I think most of the ladies thought he was handsome."

"God knows why."

"The men straightened up whenever he spoke," Alfred offered. "They respected him."

"Terrible judges of character."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, I thought he was very convincing."

"He has no case, Alfred!" Arthur snapped abruptly. "It's all empty words and smiles."

"You think you won then?" Alfred asked, tracing his finger across the counter, drawing patterns in the water. This topic irritated Arthur. Why? "Francis seemed pretty confident."

"Unwarranted confidence," Arthur said, standing up taller and looking him in the eye. "I've won this one."

"I thought you said you couldn't be sure."

"I was joking, obviously."

Alfred had to force himself not to smirk. "I don't know. Francis had a strong case to me."

"Your opinion is neither wanted nor valid." Arthur snapped, pushing past him. "I'm going to consult Mr. Yoo."

"To do what?" Alfred spoke before he could stop himself. "Console him for the impending loss?"

Arthur whirled to face him, looking genuinely angry. "I believe you came here to shadow me, not Francis Bonnefoy. If you would like to jump ship, by all means, I'll hold the door."

"So much for not losing your temper," Alfred muttered and then wondered if he had some sort of death wish. It was just so easy to push Arthur, and it only seemed to get easier.

Arthur's green eyes flared with anger, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The magazines were right. He did have a terrible temper. "Go on then." His voice was cold, at odds with the fire in his eyes. "I'm sure Francis is around here somewhere. Why don't you learn something from him? That's what you're here for, is it not?"

"I'm here to learn," Alfred said carefully.

"And it matters not who you learn from, I get it." Arthur scowled and then abruptly seemed to lose patience with the whole situation, exiting the bathroom with a bang.

Alfred followed after him, wondering what the hell they had actually fought about. For whatever reason, Arthur loathed Francis Bonnefoy.

Speaking of the devil, the man himself lounged in the lobby with his counsel and client, looking perfectly at home in the courthouse. His neat gray suit caught the light, a salmon colored tie bringing warmth and color to Francis's whole ensemble. His long blonde curled lightly at the ends, bouncing whenever he turned. Alfred meant to slink by, but Francis spotted him and called out, "Alfred Jones, correct? Come here for a moment."

Alfred bit his lip, glancing about, but Arthur was nowhere in sight.

"Yes, I'm Alfred." He shook Francis's outstretched hand. The cloying smell of Francis's cologne surrounded him in a cloud. "Pleased to meet you sir."

"You're a summer associate, are you not?" Francis seemed genuinely curious, a polite smile coloring his features warmly.

Alfred nodded. "I am."

"You'll have to forgive me. It is surprising. Arthur has not made it a habit of bringing his associates to court. I had not even known he had associates." General laughter echoed about the prosecutor's counsel.

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "I would be the first to make it to court."

"Really?" Francis leaned forward with a wider smile. "That must make you something special."

"I wouldn't say that." Alfred replied, shifting his weight.

Francis shrugged. "Perhaps you wouldn't, but that doesn't make it untrue. What? Have you used your smile to charm him?" Again the prosecutors laughed, all except Francis who seemed to have meant the question seriously.

Alfred blushed. "Oh no. Arthur is... merely being gracious. I don't really deserve it."

Francis's smile grew, like he had received his answer. "I figured."

"Alfred!"

Alfred jumped and then winced when he saw Arthur across the lobby, looking archly at the wall. "Come convene with your counsel, please," He said formally, giving Francis a reluctant nod.

Francis reached out, squeezing Alfred by the shoulder and leaning in close. "It was a pleasure seeing you in court, Alfred. I look forward to seeing you again sometime soon."

Alfred nodded sharply, clenching his fists at his sides. He didn't trust Francis, no matter his defenses of the man before. He was acting way too friendly.

"Arthur," he began as soon as he was near enough, but Arthur interrupted vapidly.

"I want you to look through my notes again, and when you're ready you can explain to me the structure of my argument. And why I chose to structure it that way. I want you to tell me, in your opinion, if there would have been a better way to structure it and why. Or if you think mine is the best way, please explain why that is. From what you remember, I want you to take apart Francis's argument and do the same. You can sit over there." He waved dismissively towards one of the lobby benches.

"But Arthur-

"You wanted to learn, so I'll teach you." Arthur said with the tightest smile yet. He effectively ended conversation by turning to address Mr. Yoo.

Like a boy being punished, Alfred sulked over to the window seat and began placing Arthur's notes in order. He should have just gone with his gut instinct earlier and called Francis a sniveler. He'd fallen out of Arthur's good graces all for a little honesty. Then again, he wasn't sure he had ever been in Arthur's good graces to begin with.

Well, he was definitely out of them now.

As Alfred's flippant attention settled on the notes, he realized that Arthur's argument was masterfully prepared. When he didn't understand the placement of some information, he thought about it and realized that Arthur had been building a pyramid style case all along. One thing led to another, led to another, led to another. And therefore the verdict had to be... It wasn't necessarily true or logical, but it would seem that way to listeners who didn't have much opportunity to mull over Arthur's tactics.

After some time, Arthur wandered over to his window bench, tapping away at his phone in a manner that discouraged Alfred from talking to him.

Finally, he gathered up the courage and asked, "Arthur?"

"I'm busy."

"It's about Francis's argument. I have a question."

Reluctantly, Arthur looked up from his phone. His whole manner exuded caution. Like he didn't quite trust Alfred for whatever reason.

"Yes?"

"What was the structure of Francis's argument?"

To his astonishment, Arthur laughed aloud. The amusement started in his eyes, causing them to glitter so mischievously that he looked much younger than he was. It traveled to touch his lips, dragging the corners to opposites sides of his face. And then Arthur had given in, wrapping an arm briefly around his stomach like he might try to wrangle it in. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" Alfred asked, finding his tone was soft instead of offended. He liked Arthur's laugh. It was rusty from disuse, soft and gentle and insidious. It always got Alfred smiling. He didn't get to hear it often. The courtroom banter or the clients never managed to draw it out of him.

"You're asking me. I asked you. I suppose between the two of us, neither one could figure it out. It must not have been very good." Arthur pressed his lips together in an attempt to stop smiling.

Alfred grinned too. "So this was just an exercise to boost your ego, then? I see." He shook his head. "I do like your argument. Even if it is a hopeless logical fallacy."

"The prosecution did not point that out." Arthur shrugged innocently.

"No, they did not. You make up seem like down, Arthur. I didn't notice until you asked me to think about it. I guess that means you're the one without the case then?"

"Without the logical case. But still, I would say, a very convincing case." Arthur amended, causing Alfred to grin.

"Thanks for bringing me along Arthur."

Arthur shrugged uncomfortably.

"I would like to state something for the record," Alfred continued. Things were about to get experimental.

"Oh would you like me to write that down?" Arthur asked sarcastically, pulling a pen from his jacket. Alfred laughed.

"That won't be necessary. I just wanted to comment on Francis."

Arthur stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Go on."

"He told me that it was unusual for you to bring summer associates to court-

"A fact which you already knew."

"Let me finish," Alfred grinned in exasperation. "And that I must be something special."

"Oh, lovely. He's filling your head with fantasies. Just what I need." Arthur huffed.

Alfred pretended to pout. "Ouch?"

"Did this have a point?"

Alfred leveled Arthur with his best serious face. "Why do you let me do all these things?"

Arthur shrugged. "Why do you think?"

"Objection. Speculation."

"Overruled."

"On what grounds?" Alfred exclaimed.

"We are not in session, and I have perfectly flaunt-able freewill."

Alfred groaned, throwing his head back. "You are the worst, Arthur."

"And he tastes his first defeat. Verdict guilty. The cameras flash."

Alfred groaned again. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing, Mr. Jones? Do you think this loss will impact your employment opportunities? What are your plans in the wake of this development? Did you expect to lose so spectacularly?"

"You're having too much fun with this." Alfred couldn't help but chuckle, eyeing the warm smile that danced just beyond Arthur's lips.

"Losing to that crook Arthur Kirkland," Arthur continued. "Will justice ever recover? How will you survive?"

"Honestly, Mr. Reporter," Alfred played along with the nonsensical arrangement. He couldn't stand to see the disappearance of Arthur's smile. "Arthur Kirkland is a worthy opponent, and I couldn't have picked a better candidate to lose to... Even if his argument is illogical bullshit and he moved to America just so he could win all his cases by flaunting his accent."

"Arthur Kirkland would like it stated on the record that he could win using sign language if he had to, and that his arguments are perfect illogical victories. What the hell difference does it make?" Arthur glanced over his shoulder, failing to hide his widening smile from Alfred's view. Across the room, the prosecution were looking bored as hell, but Alfred had never had so much fun waiting around before.

Alfred snorted. "Arthur Kirkland doesn't get a say. This is my interview."

Before Arthur could respond to that, an aide was sent out to usher them back into the courtroom. The jury had reached a verdict. They all settled into their seats. The air in the room was heavy with tension. Arthur and Francis seemed to be the only ones unaffected. Glancing at each other and then turning their scrutiny on the jury members.

Just before the spokesperson announced the verdict, Arthur relaxed confidently into his chair and Francis scowled.

"The jury verdict is not guilty on all accounts."

Mr. Yoo's eyes lit up and he reached for Arthur's hand, all but violating the man in an attempt to shake. "Thank you, Mr. Kirkland. Thank you. Thank you."

Arthur smiled impatiently, although Mr. Yoo didn't notice the stiffness of it. Alfred got the sudden feeling that he was the only one who could see it. Francis apologized to a very angry client, all the while shooting dagger looks at the celebrating defense. At Arthur particularly, like by smiling he was gloating. But it wasn't Arthur's real smile, not even close.

Alfred had to wait until Mr. Yoo and all of Mr. Yoo's relatives and friends had stopped showering Arthur in praise. By that point, he'd cleared up all their papers and organized them in Arthur's briefcase. He'd finished an entire bottle of soda from the vending machine and disposed of it in the urinal. When he emerged, he found Arthur alone in the lobby, looking mildly irritated.

"Where did you go?"

"Bathroom. Congratulations, by the way. If you're not sick of hearing it."

Arthur blinked. "Why would I get sick of hearing that?"

Alfred wondered if he should try and explain how Arthur's smile had seemed so put-upon compared to their ribbing in the lobby before. Instead, he grinned. "Well, you hear it so much."

"It is not something you get sick of hearing, I assure you." Arthur retorted with a shadow of his real smile.

"Well, you were right," Alfred said, falling into step beside him as they exited the courthouse. "Your illogical argument tricked the jury and you won. How's it feel to defend the bad guys?"

"My client needed a strong defense. I was the solution." Arthur shot back in amusement.

"Who's your client?" Alfred responded and they caught each other's eyes for just a second, pleased to have got each other's references.

"Hey, I wanted to ask?" Alfred continued, once they had walked in silence for awhile.

"Mhmm?"

"How did you know the verdict?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously.

Alfred shook his head. "Not like that. I saw you. You knew the verdict before they said it."

"Oh that." Arthur shrugged. "It just takes practice. Most often jury members won't look at the defendant if they're convicting him."

"Huh." Alfred tilted his head. "I'll look for that next time."

"Next time?" Arthur raised one eyebrow.

"I'm being an optimist, okay?" Alfred pouted. "Today didn't go horribly. You won. I learned something. There's no reason not to take me back to court."

"Oh you are hopeless," Arthur snorted. "Come along. There's a bar on 32nd that's worth our time."

Alfred blinked in surprise. "But what about-

"You didn't honestly think I'd be returning to the office after all that. I'm a workaholic, but christ, I'm not trying to kill myself."

Alfred bit his lip, shaking his head. He allowed Arthur to lead him to the very fancy bar on 32nd, filled with similar men in suits. Arthur was obviously a regular, because the bartender knew exactly what to fix him. Alfred, deciding it wise not to drink with his boss, ordered a Coke and started a conversation about torts.

The hour was getting late, and Arthur was growing more talkative with each glass of gin. Alfred tried to be subtle about it, checking his watch, yawning, all sorts of little signals that Arthur should have seen. He was ready to leave. Arthur may be able to keep such a crazy sleep schedule, but Alfred decidedly needed his full eight hours or hell broke loose.

"Well, Arthur," he interrupted a riveting, one-sided conversation on business litigation. "I have to be getting home now."

Arthur blinked. "Oh. Is it... is it late?"

"Well, I have to drive back home and that takes me about an hour. And then work tomorrow and all that." Alfred started to stand, waving the bartender over to pay.

"Oh. I see." Arthur nodded, staring into his empty glass.

"You're leaving?" The bartender seemed surprised to find Alfred on his feet.

"Yes, long day and another long day tomorrow," Alfred smiled, holding out his credit card, but the man didn't take it.

"Does that mean the cab for you as usual?" The bartender turned to Arthur, whose cheeks pinked.

"Yes, thank you for bringing that up in front of my dinner guest." Arthur's voice was missing that snarky sharpness. He just sounded tired now, almost defeated. "I'm going to have a few more first. Goodnight, Alfred."

"I'm sorry. I thought he was with you," the bartender continued, despite Arthur's obvious discomfort.

"You thought wrong," Arthur said frostily, shoving his empty glass forward. "Gin and tonic, please."

"Here. I'll help you pay down here." The bartender waved Alfred towards the end of the bar. Punching in his order and zinging the card.

Alfred reached for it, but the bartender paused before handing it back. "I've never seen you around before."

"I just started working in the city a week or so ago."

"Ah." The bartender relinquished his card. "Sorry about that. Just a misunderstanding. I shoulda known. He always leaves alone."

"Does he come here a lot?"

The bartender shrugged. "Five, six times a week. There are some who come more 'n once a day, though. He ain't the worst. I just had to notice. He never seemed to come in with nobody, and he must pay crazy amounts to the cabbies."

"Well, he has the funds to do it," Alfred replied uncomfortably. "Cheers."

"Cheers." The bartender waved as he slipped out the door.