Title: A Gentleman Never Kisses and Tells

Rating: T for risqué humor

Characters: Apollo Justice, Clay Terran, Trucy Wright

Pairing: Apollo/Ema, Apollo and Clay platonic friendship (the latter is important)

Time: March 2027

It was a cool spring afternoon. My best friend and I both had the day off. And it was a tradition that if we were both free, we'd sit on the porch of Clay's house and relax. We'd sit on these antique looking rocking chairs, and sip lemonade. We had many discussion about our hopes and dreams on that porch.

"How was your trial yesterday?" Clay asked me.

I sighed. Even a good night's sleep had not eased my nerves. "It was a miserable, uphill battle."

"Your day was probably better than mine," Clay said.

"What? It was hard?" I knew astronaut training was brutal, but before today, I had never heard Clay complain about it. On the contrary, he had been bubbly and happy since being selected for the HAT-2 mission.

"Nah, just tedious. Some politicians were in town and we had to give them a presentation on how we're putting their tax dollars to good use." Clay yawned. "Space is fascinating, but the logistics of getting there is not. The engineers fielded most of their questions. I just had to stay awake."

"Did you?"

"Yes, but just barely. I had to sit behind Cosmos, and I almost drifted off, and then he turned around and hit the table hard to jolt me awake. And I've caught him sleeping during sponsor meetings. He claims he's listening with his eyes closed, but I know better." Clay sighed. "The sad thing is he was a great astronaut in his youth. Before you and I were born. There's a reason the Space Center is named after him. Do me a favor, Apollo. If I ever retire from being an astronaut, and turn into a stodgy, pompous, half-senile bureaucrat, euthanize me."

"I doubt that will happen! Your passion will never die."

"I want to believe that, but…when people get older, something happens. Their passions dull. Don't you think Sol seems a bit different from when we were kids? I worry that the same thing might happen to him. That he gets tired of what he's doing and becomes bitter."

"Sol? He seems fine, but you know him better than me."

"Then again…" Clay mumbled the next part. "Might just be the PTSD talking…"

"PTSD?" I asked. "Sol has PTSD?"

"Gleep!" Clay jumped. "Just forget I said that. I shouldn't be talking about my coworker's problems…even if I am worried about him! Um, how was the trial itself? What sort of bizarre murder mystery did you have to solve? Don't leave anything out."

Clay loved murder mysteries only slightly less than he loved astronomy.

"Well, I can't go into too much detail," I said. "But I guess I can give you the Cliff's Notes version. The victim was Amos Thompson, age 64. A legendary defense attorney, with a perfect win record spanning forty one years. He was the head of the Thompson and French firm. The cause of death was hemorrhaging from ruptured internal organs. Body was found in his office, along with the murder weapon. A heavy lug wrench."

"Someone beat an old man to death in his own office?" Clay shuddered.

"Yeah, the autopsy photos were ugly," I commented. "My client was Thompson's junior partner, Alastor French. The police thought he did because it was his wrench and had his fingerprints. Also, he was distraught and agitated when he was being questioned. You see, Thompson was Mr. French's best friend. They had known each other since high school. They went to the same law school."

"Ah, so he wasn't in any state of mind to defend himself," Clay observed. "Can you really blame him, though? Please tell me he didn't see his friend dead."

"He did. He was the one to discover the body, and it was still warm. And the secretary walked in on him standing over the body, and she called the police."

"Ouch."

"Sad to say, my clients just happen to get caught standing near the body. My opponent this time was Miles Edgeworth, the Chief Prosecutor. It was exhilarating to be up against Mr. Wright's one true rival, but…"

"What?" Clay asked. "Haven't you read all the transcripts of Mr. Wright's trials?"

"Those transcripts didn't scratch the surface of how incredibly smug Miles Edgeworth is. It burned. I started wishing for Klavier Gavin back. Good thing Edgeworth won't be prosecuting many cases himself in the future. He only took this one because of a special interest."

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"Thompson and French were very good friends of his father, Gregory Edgeworth. He was a famous defense attorney who undoubtedly would have surpassed Thompson, had he lived. He died at the age of thirty five. The three of them were known in legal circles as the Three Musketeers. The three of them dreamed of a system where defense attorneys could peer review and ensure everyone is behaving ethically. That never got off the ground. Defense attorneys are…defensive when it comes to their client base and their work." I inwardly shuddered, recalling how my old mentor got Mr. Wright disbarred simply for being passed over.

"But if Mr. French was his dad's friend too, shouldn't he have believed in him?"

"He did. It's hard to explain, but he wanted me to do just what Mr. Wright did years ago. Determine the truth of what happened. Edgeworth presented the case, and I caught the weak spots in the case. Then the truth came to light."

"And what was the truth?"

"Who do you think killed Amos Thompson?" I asked.

"It wasn't his best friend," Clay thought. "And it happened in his office. Was there any sign of forced entry?"

"No."

"So he either let in the killer, or forgot to lock the door. Assuming his mind was still sharp, he trusted the killer. It had to be someone he knew. And that's possibly why the police thought it was Mr. French."

"It was one of Thompson's clients. A good defense attorney always trusts their client."

"How horrible. So I guess you got an acquittal for Mr. French."

"It was hard, but yes."

"Except Mr. Thompson is still dead, which sucks," Clay observed.

"Yes," I agreed. "But I taught Mr. French the magic words."

"'I'm fine'?"

"Yes, and you know what he said? That if I ever needed a consult, he'd help me. That a defense attorney can never be truly be alone, as long as that bond of trust is still there. That Thompson and even Gregory Edgeworth and all the other defense attorneys who have passed on have never truly left us as long as we keep protecting the rights of those who can't defend themselves."

"So I guess he really is fine, which is more than I can say for you. Apollo, if you won your case, why are you still agitated?"

I groaned. "I can't keep anything from you. You know my girlfriend Ema? We're going to dinner tomorrow."

"I've been wondering. Does Ema have a sister?"

"Yes, actually."

"Is that sister hot?"

"Let me put it this way. I looked at her for thirty seconds too long when I met her two weeks ago. Ema threw an entire family-sized bag of Snackoos at me. Said I was filthy."

"Older or younger?"

"Older."

"Ooh. I do love older women."

"I'd forget it if I were you. Not only is Lana Skye not your type, but the last time you and I tried to date sisters, we crashed and burned almost as horribly as Pan Am Flight 103. Besides, you're spending all your time training for your mission. Why do you want a girlfriend?"

"Well, you know how going to space is my dream? And I'm training for the HAT-2 launch in December?"

"Yes."

"I'll have already accomplished my dream by the time I'm twenty five, you know? What will come after that? I want to start a family. But all the women at the space center are too focused on their careers to even think about that. Or focused on someone else entirely." Clay sighed. "Your dream was to become a great lawyer, and you have to build a record to be reknowned. And that takes years, but you're fortunate enough to have a wonderful girl. Don't you think I envy that a little?"

"You wouldn't envy me if you knew how nervous I was. Tomorrow night, I want to kiss Ema for the first time, but…"

"But what?"

"I've never kissed a girl before. And I have no idea how to do it. And if I screw up the kiss, she'll throw Snackoos at me! Then tell all her coworkers I'm a loser who doesn't know how to kiss."

"You never tried kissing the back of your hand for practice? Or a poster?"

"Of course not! With the adoptive parents in the next room listening for me to do anything…unwholesome. The walls were paper-thin. And the whole time I lived with them, I never heard them having sex. Not. Even. Once."

"You're telling me that Dr. and Mrs. Justice never had sex? Ever?" Clay thought a moment. "I always did think they were weird, but I never thought they were that weird."

"You never wondered why they didn't have any kids of their own?"

"Well, I know now!" Clay laughed.

"Stop laughing! You were at our prom. How I wasn't even allowed to hold my date's hand! They said holding a girl's hand was improper before a certain amount of time passes in the relationship."

"And what amount of time is that?"

I sighed. "I don't remember. Milly dumped me right after, remember? By text message, no less. Apollo Justice, consider yourself dumped. Don't call me. Her exact words."

"All right, I'll help you. The most important thing to remember is that girls hate wet kissers. So swallow you move in. Brush her lips lightly."

"How long do I hold it?"

"As long as she wants. You have to gauge it."

"And if I guess wrong?"

"Slap to the face?"

"Or Snackoo shower, in Ema's case," I said glumly. "Maybe I should just forget it."

"If you weren't my best friend in the world, I wouldn't be suggesting this, but what if I gave you a demonstration?" Clay flushed pink.

I must have turned as red as my favorite clothes. "What?!"

"You know, show you how to do it?" Clay wrung his hands.

"You're not kissing me! No matter how educational it is!" I sat up. "I have my dignity."

Clay shrugged. "All right, then. A lot of good your dignity will do you if your girlfriend leaves you."

"What, you want to teach me how to kiss?" I asked. "Is the microgravity training affecting your mind?"

"No, it's just that if you mess it up and if there was something I could have done to prevent that..."

"You're a good friend, but that's just a risk I'm willing to take."

Clay perked up. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I asked.

"Like a tree branch creaking?"

"No. Don't change the subject."

Clay snickered. "You don't trust me to perform CPR if you needed it?"

"Of course I do. If I needed CPR, I'd be dying. And also unconscious and therefore beyond caring how awkward it is that a guy is kissing me. But then, if Ema left me, I'd feel like wanting to die. Not literally, but I'd be so depressed."

"Just close your eyes," Clay said.

"We never speak of this to anyone?" I said.

"Of course," Clay snapped. "That goes without saying."

I squeezed my eyes shut, and felt Clay's lips brush against mine. A very slight peck.

"That enough?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, face burning. "I think I can extrapolate from there. Thanks. No one else would have helped me like this."

"You owe me big for this. That's all I can say."

"Oh, you were angling for something." I punched Clay playfully in the shoulder. "All right, since you've lowered my chances of Ema thinking I'm a loser significantly, what is it?"

"Introduce me to Ema's hot sister."

"Were you not listening to me earlier?"

"Sure, but I'm still curious. What is she like?"

"Kind of stiff and aloof. But then, you've been chasing the cold, heartless vacuum of outer space since the day you were born, so maybe she's perfect for you."

There was a loud cracking sound. A bough from the oak at the edge of the yard snapped, depositing a young girl into a pile of raked leaves at the foot of the tree. A girl I knew very well, wearing her school uniform of green, blue, and black plaid skirt and green sweater vest.

"Isn't that your boss' daughter?" Clay asked incredulously.

"She is," I said. "Trucy, what are you doing here?"

Trucy blushed slightly. "Well, this is kind of embarrassing, but could you…" She smirked. "Kiss again? Maybe use tongue this time?" She held up her little purple digital camera. "I can probably get a better shot from here."

"You didn't answer my question!" I snapped.

"Fine," Trucy sighed. "I was working on my biology homework. We're supposed to photograph different types of plants. I was in the tree taking some close-ups of the acorns and leaves."

No tension on my bracelet. She was telling the truth.

"But then I saw you guys," Trucy continued. "I couldn't hear you, but I saw you move in to kiss and I snapped a great photo. I guess I didn't notice the branch weakening."

"Clay," I said, putting my fist in my open palm. "Let's show her a magic trick. We're going to make that photo disappear from her memory card!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Trucy jumped to her feet and ran.

Damn, she's fast. And Wesley Stickler outran her? "Come back here, little missy!" I called, running after her.

Trucy shrieked playfully.

Author's Note: Yes, I do think Trucy would be a yaoi fangirl. And I'd love to have seen Apollo face off against Edgeworth. Edgeworth said in Dual Destinies Case 5 that he had been Chief Prosecutor for almost a year, which I guessed meant he got the job in January 2027.

And a bonus bit in script form:

Edgeworth: While it is unorthodox for the Chief Prosecutor to stand at the bench, there is precedent. One of my predecessors prided herself on trying cases herself. And as you're aware, law is mostly precedent.

Apollo: Ah, so cross-examining birds is allowed now? There's precedent for that. You were there, as I recall.

Edgeworth: …Don't get cheeky.