He's not really sure how, but the study help has become a recurring thing. They haven't talked about it, exactly – made no plans. But Phoenix can be found at the same table, time, and state of study distress every Wednesday. He mentions once that Trucy does her rehearsals every other weekday, and when Klavier shows up on a Friday, sure enough he's there again. Not going on Monday is a deliberate choice. He's not sure why he feels the need to help in the first place, and joining all three of Phoenix's surreptitious study sessions uninvited seems like too much. Besides, with the weekend runs they are already seeing one another three times a week – a harsh departure from before.

Klavier doesn't stay too long at the coffee shop. He always leaves before Phoenix is finished for the day. That first time, he'd stuck around for maybe forty minutes, slowly sipping his lukewarm then cold coffee as he quizzed Phoenix on various terms and laws. Finally, it reached a point where he just felt too awkward to stick around, still a little uncertain if Phoenix even wanted him there.

But he'd kept thinking about that look in his eyes, all week. The way he'd never given in to frustration, accepted every single one of the many corrections without protest, focused so completely. It's fascinating to watch. He couldn't resist coming back to see it all again, until eventually it just became routine.

The fourth time Klavier shows up, Phoenix has a hot coffee waiting for him on the table.

"I asked for your usual, so it should be good," he says, instead of a greeting. "So um, I was hoping you could look over these notes, let me know if they're alright?"

"Of course," Klavier says, "um, danke –"

"Sorry about the handwriting," Phoenix interrupts hurriedly, passing over a battered notebook, "Wrote some of it on the bus and you can definitely tell."

"I'm sure I'll manage. You didn't need to–"

"Great, thanks."

Obviously Phoenix doesn't want his offer acknowledged. Bemused, Klavier sips it, then hums in appreciation. His companion's cheeks go pink at the sound, which – is cute, somehow. A little relieving too, that Phoenix feels awkward about this whole business as well.

There's always a hot coffee waiting after that. As the weeks go by, Klavier gives up on his attempts to thank Phoenix, or to explain that he is definitely better-off financially and really doesn't need money spent on him. Every time he tries to start the conversation, Phoenix just blatantly interrupts or ignores him. He isn't sure if it's pride, or embarrassment, or maybe just a persistent sense of obligation for the tutoring… but he can't deny a certain sense of excitement when he overhears Trucy complaining about her father's eating habits at a crime scene one day. Something about 'parents shouldn't be the ones begging to add candy to the shopping cart' – and Apollo's arguing back for some reason, so maybe he's blowing things out of proportion, but…

The next day, when Phoenix nudges his coffee towards him, Klavier counters by setting an apple on top of his lawbook.

"A little birdy tells me you need to eat healthier," he smiles brightly. Phoenix gapes at him, flushing indignantly, and there it is again, a little zing in his gut, like anticipation. That flustered frustration, the stumbling protests and very begrudging thanks when he eventually does eat it – it all feels like taking a step closer.

To what, he's not sure… but he keeps bringing fruit.

wordcount: 591