#you look at him and tell me he wouldn’t think touchscreens are the devil

[doffies]

[soulmate-game]

Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here

Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.

It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.

“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”

The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.

“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”

The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.

“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.

Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.

“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.

“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.

Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.

“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”

The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.

“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”

The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.

“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”

Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”

That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.

“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”

Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”

“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”

Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.

Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.

“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”

“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”

The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.

Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.

Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.

“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.

“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”

Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.

“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.

“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”

Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.

“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.

Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.

A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.

“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”

Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.

“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”

Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.

Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.

In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.

The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.

“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;

“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”

Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”

The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”

Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“I FOUND HER FIRST!”

Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.

Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.

“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”

Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.

“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.

“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”

Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.

“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.

“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!

“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.

Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.

“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.

“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”

Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.

“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”

Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…

He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.

Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.

“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”

Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”

—*—*—*—*—*

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[izukillme-moved]

*cracks knuckles before typing* Here we go: Fic/Drabble anything that you are comfortable with. 1. First of all, Jelray (because Jelray): “It doesn't matter if we can't describe it–we both feel this way.” (taken from a Tumblr prompt) 2. Gratsu: “And that is why I come to you over everyone else. That is why you are my boyfriend.” I can and WILL give more since I am bubbling up with ideas and at the same time can't save myself by writing them since I'll probably ruin it.

Okay, so here it is! I’ll edit and post the Gratsu later because I really wanna post this aah!!

The first time Gray sees Jellal Fernandes, he knows he isdone for.

He meets Jellal through Lyon. Jellal works at the library Lyonfrequents every so often when he feels he’s thumbed through his book collectiontoo many to pick up one from it. When Gray’s local library closes down, as atired college student (read tired corpse), he is obligated to go to this‘amazing library’ that Lyon describes as having a really good selection ofnovels, research books, magazines and whatnot.

The instant Gray lays eyes upon Jellal, he knows exactlywhat that evil glint in Lyon’s eyes was.

Damn it all! hecurses the silver-haired devil that is his older sibling.

For once, for once,he thought his brother would be nice and kind and show him to a library wherethere are no stunningly hot boys to distract Gray, he thought he could ignorethe look on Lyon’s face, passing it off as his usual smug smirk, but no. Lyon’s not that nice, and Grayshould know that by now.

Jellal is tall, half an inch taller than even Gray himself. He’sgot natural blue hair – now Gray wouldbe sceptical, but one of his ex-boyfriends and current best friend has naturalbright pink hair, so yeah - and a strange red tattoo working its way down theright side of his face. Oh, and did Gray mention that Jellal has the mostbeautiful, kindest brown eyes that seem to hold the entire universe in them,constellations, asteroids and all? His smile is like the sun, and it lights up Gray’sworld every time Jellal so much as looks at him.

In short, this boy is perfect, and Gray does not knowwhether to kill or thank Lyon for this gift from the heavens.

He decides to hold off on both, preferring to maintain thathe is in no way interested in how pretty Jellal is, or how his brown eyessparkle just so when the light hits them.

–

“Ugh!” Gray grunts as he searches through the racks for a book;he knows he saw it here yesterday. itcan’t have gone, there aren’t many people who even know who Stephen Hawking or RichardFeynman or Michael Faraday are, let alone like their –

“Are you looking for TheDreams That Stuff Is Made Of?” a kind voice comes from behind him.

Gray turns around, almost losing his balance, and issurprised to see Jellal, a small blush on his cheeks, holding in his hands the verybook Gray has been wanting for so, so long.

“Yes, oh my god,” he says in surprise, reaching out to takeit. “How did you-”

“Not many people like this book, it’s been checked out exactlythree times,” says Jellal, hand scratching his neck. He gives a small chuckle,and Gray knows that he would pay good money to just listen to that one sound forthe rest of his life. “I love physics, and I thought I would try it,”

Gray’s jaw drops. “Me too,” he says. “It’s so interesting!”

“You really think so?” Jellal’s pretty eyes widen, and hesmiles. “That’s awesome. We should talk sometime. I guess you know my namebecause it’s on my card,” here he laughs a little, and it sounds like the pealof bells in heaven, “but I never caught yours,”

“Gray,” Gray says, breathless. “I’m Gray Fullbuster.”

Jellal smiles in amazement. “no way. Ultear’s littlebrother?”

“You know Ul?” Gray questions in surprise.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend,” grins Jellal.

“Wait, what?!” Gray leaps up. “You’re Erza Scarlet’s best friend? You’re that Jellal? The one she just won’t shut up about, the guy who tookcare of her till her real family located her? I should have known, Jellal isn’ta common name,”

“Yup,” Jellal says with a proud smile. “Erza’s mentioned youa couple of times to me. There was a lot of winking and suggestive smilinginvolved,” he says thoughtfully. “She has a tendency to act really weird attimes.”

Gray blushes to the tips of his ears and looks away. Heknows exactly what Erza means whenshe looks like that.

“Anyway, I should be getting back to work.” Jellal says witha little smile, handing the book out to Gray. “It was nice meeting you, GrayFullbuster!” And he runs off.

Gray stares after Jellal’s retreating back, the spot wherehis fingers brushed against Jellal’s burning oddly.

Damn it all, he curseshimself. Damn you, Jellal Fernandes.

–

It has been exactly three months, sixteen days, ten hoursand forty-five seconds since Gray met Jellal.

Not like he’s counting, of course. Certainly not.

Not like he wheedled out Jellal’s birthday (Jellal did thesame, he might add) and wrote it into his phone calendar – it’s the fourteenthof November – so he can wish the guy a happy birthday.

Not like he likes him.No, not at all.

Jellal now regularly makes it a point to say a hello to Grayand ask him how he’s doing every time he drops by.

(Which is becoming more and more frequent. Of course, Grayrefuses to admit that it’s for Jellal – he stubbornly maintains that it’s becausethe books at his own local library aren’t enough for him anymore, but even he struggles to believe that nowadays.)

Gray makes it a point to blush a little and stammer out, “Thanks.I’m doing okay, how about you?”

And then Jellal will inevitably launch into a story aboutErza’s friend Millianna and her cats – “terrible, nasty creatures,”, Jellal rants– a story Gray would have heard from Erza not an hour before, but he findshimself listening avidly, hanging off of every word that comes out of Jellal’s mouth.

“And then – and then the stupid thing nearly ripped apart asweater I’d been working on for almost a month,”Jellal yells exasperatedly, clutching fistfuls of his pretty blue hair. “I’m makingit for someone really special, see, and I can’t afford any more expensive yarn!”

“I didn’t know you knitted,” says Gray. He really didn’t –but it isn’t that surprising. Jellal is the kind of guy who seems like he likesknitting, and baking cookies, and all that sort of grandmotherly thing.

What is surprising is that Jellal is poor. His polite, cultureddemeanour and excellent grooming wouldn’t tell you that. But, well, it shouldn’tbe so surprising – Gray himself comes from a large business family, and is currentlystudying to be its next head, but you can’t tell by looking at the scruffy messhe is. Gray almost offers to buy Jellal some more yarn just in case, but biteshis tongue. It might come across as very rude.

“Not many people do,” Jellal says with a little smile. “Ifeel like I can tell you anything, though.”

Gray’s breath hitches.

“Y – yeah,” he says nervously. “Yeah, sure.”

–

It’s ten am on the fourteenth of November, and Gray standsoutside the library, chewing his lip, holding the little wrapped gift in hishand.

Should he be doing this?

Probably not.

Is it a thing that friends do for each other?

Are he and Jellal even friends?

Shut up, me.

Gray takes a breath in and pushes the doors open. It’s toolate now – he can’t turn back, and he won’t.

I’m going to do this.

He walks in and sees none other than Jellal, lifting a cupcaketo his mouth to take a bite. Gray can tell it’s strawberry on instinct, knowingwhat kind of cake Erza likes to give her friends on their birthdays. It has alittle number twenty on it, and Gray smiles a bit – that’s cute of her. He knowsshe baked it herself.

“Hey,” Gray greets.

“Gray?” Jellal sets his cake down. “Hi! How are you doingtoday?”

Gray shoves the gift at him and attempts to smile. “Happybirthday.”

Jellal gasps. “You remembered?”

Gray shifts in place. “Well, yeah? Is that a question?”

“No, but-” he pulls the wrapper open, long fingers carefulnot to tear it. It’s cute how he is so meticulous about it.

Friends can be thought of as cute. They can, Gray insists to himself.

He is brought out of his thoughts as Jellal gasps, eyes flyingwide open. He stares disbelievingly at the brand-new (second-generation, butGray feared buying the new fourth-generation one would be going overboard) iPodTouch in his palm.

“Gray – I can’t accept this-” he begins, pushing it backtowards him. “It must have cost you a fortune, how even-”

Gray cuts him off with a slight blush. “It’s not a problem. Youmentioned you like Linkin Park. It has all their albums except The Hunting Partybecause you don’t like that one. What are friends for, stupid? Just accept thegift.”

Jellal looks in awe at the iPod. “Thank you, Gray, but-” Heputs it back in Gray’s hands.

“Jellal, take it. It’s really not a problem. Trust me.” Graysays firmly, closing Jellal’s fingers around the touchscreen device. “Theearphones are in the case, too,” he adds, pointing at the neat little pile ofwrapper on the desk. “Try it out – I hear the sound quality is amazing.”

Jellal stares at him unsurely. “Gray-”

Gray grabs the box with a roll of his eyes, pulls out theearphones, plugs them into the iPod and shoves one into Jellal’s ear.

“Pick a song,” he whispers, putting the other one into hisown ear.

Jellal hesitates, but turns the iPod on, shuffling throughthe song list. He stops and smiles at one name, then presses the ‘start’ button.

Gray’s eyes widen as the first bars of his favourite songbegin to play in his ears.

“Castle of Glass,” he realises.

“’Cause I’m only a crackin this castle of glass,” Jellal sings along. He has the voice of an angelas well.

They spend some time listening to all Jellal’s favouritesongs – which happen to be Gray’s as well. Iridescentis a particular hit with the both of them.

“So let it go, let it go,” hums Jellal.

(If he’s being completely honest, Gray is more listening to Jellalsing along in bliss than anything.)

And they stay like that for a long while, until Gray realiseshe has to meet Lucy for their English project. They’re assigned partners, andshe’ll kill him if he’s late.

“Jellal, I have to go. I’m meeting a friend for a project, I’mreally sorry!” he says with a bow of apology.

Jellal’s eyes widen. “Don’t you dare apologise, you’ve givenme the best gift you could,” he says vehemently. “I – I can’t thank you enough.”

Gray smiles a little awkwardly and runs out of the librarywith a “You’re welcome!”.

Jellal Fernandes has himso screwed.

–

Fast forward to the twenty-fifth of December, Christmas.

And also, Gray’s nineteenth birthday.

Gray grins as his cousin Juvia whirls him around one last timebefore going off to dance with her girlfriends, Levy and Mirajane. “See you!”he calls after her, and she turns back to shoot him a smirk.

“Waiting on someone?” Erza asks, sidling up next to him witha suggestive smile. “Someone by the name of Jellal Fernandes?”

“No,” Gray says. “And that wasn’t subtle at all, Erza.”

“Mm, I know.” Erza grins. “But dense idiots like the two ofyou don’t get subtlety, so…”

“I invited him, but he said he might be a bit busy.” Graysays hastily. “Said not to wait on him. So that’s exactly what I’m not doing.”

“Would be a shame,” says a familiar voice from behind him.

Gray turns in shock to see Jellal, holding a lumpy wrappedpresent in his arms. The wrapping has flying reindeer and a little Santa on it –it must be old Christmas paper, but it’s the effort that counts, and Gray can’tstop a small smile from painting itself onto his face. He’s excited, he realises, something he hasn’tbeen all night – happy, yes, for his closest family is here, but not excited.

“You came,” Gray breathes. Erza has slipped off to god knowswhere, but Gray is glad she isn’t here, to be honest.

Jellal laughs. “Took me a while. Nice place you got here. I seenow why the iPod wasn’t a problem.”

And the way he says it, so light-hearted and friendly unlikea lot of others, warms Gray’s heart.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

Jellal looks a little ashamed of himself, handing the giftto Gray. “It’s not cool, like anything you’re probably used to,” he says uncomfortably.“But, well, this is the most I could do. Sorry.”

Gray rolls his eyes and takes the gift. “It’s fine – it’sreally nice of you to even get me a gift, Jellal,” he says.

Gray holds the lumpy package tentatively. It is soft and pillow-like,and he can almost guess what’s inside. He takes his time to unwrap it,unwinding each piece of cheap Sellotape slowly and carefully.

Once he is done, a beautiful cream sweater spills into hisarms. Gray kneels and puts the wrapper on the floor, holding up the lovelyknitted article of clothing. It has an exquisitely detailed snowflake, in varyingshades of blue – is that silk – in thecentre, and two simple bands of the same blue silk near the wrists andneckline. It’s knitted even better than most of the luxury brands you’d see instores, and Gray clutches the fabric to his chest. It must be custom-made – it’s absolutely beautiful, and Gray wants toput it on immediately.

“This must have cost you so much-” he says in shock. “It’sgot to be custom-made, you wouldn’t see anything so amazing in a store-”

Jellal shakes his head with a smile. “I knit, remember?”

Gray’s jaw drops, and he recalls a certain conversationbetween himself and Jellal.

“And then – and then the stupid thing nearly ripped apart asweater I’d been working on for almost a month,”he’d ranted, and then explained why it was so important.

“I’m making it for someone really special, see,”

That special someone…

Was him.

Gray shakes his head.

“You went to all that trouble, spent money on real, actualsilk – for me?!” he says in utterdisbelief.

Jellal rubs his head. “It wasn’t that much trouble,” he answers.“Really, Gray, it’s not much at all,”

“Shut up,” Graysays, staring at the masterpiece in his hands. “I’m wearing this right now.”

And to prove his point, he shucks off the suit jacket he’sbeen wearing all night and slips into the cosy comfort of the sweater instead. Itfeels even more amazing than it looks, and Gray lets out a sigh of pleasure.

Jellal stares at him, and Gray cannot fathom why until –

“God, I can’t take this anymore,” he breathes, and suddenlyhis hands are on Gray’s hips, pulling him closer, and then he smashes his mouthinto Gray’s.

Gray makes an ‘Mmph!’noise at first, startled by the sudden kiss, but soon melts into it, kissingback with equal vigour. Jellal’s hands trace Gray’s hips, coming up to rest inhis hair, and Gray’s hands draw patterns on his back, pulling him closer,closer, closer till there is no room between them anymore.

The kiss is soft and sweet and loving and fiery andpassionate all at the same time. Gray’s insides are on fire, and his heart isburning with something he cannot place.Sure, he’s been kissed, has kissed others before, but not like this. Never likethis.

“Shit,” he gasps when they finally break apart for air.

Jellal’s cheeks are red. His eyes are wide. His tattoo isalmost invisible with how much he’s blushing.

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have done that. I crossed a line. Ihave to go. I better go.” he gabbles and runs off.

“Jellal – wait!” Gray shouts, trying to chase after him,hand outstretched. But Jellal has melted into the huge crowds, and Gray cannot spothim anymore.

He sinks onto the floor, clutching fistfuls of his newsweater.

–

The next day, Gray marches into the library to see Jellal lookingsadly into a book – the same physics book, TheDreams That Stuff Is Made Of.

He walks straight up to the older boy and grabs his collar.

Jellal looks up in surprise. “Gray-” he begins.

“No,” Gray half-shouts. “I’m not letting you run away. It doesn’tmatter if you can’t describe it – we both feel this way. I’ve liked you fromthe minute I saw you. Your cuteness and your personality didn’t help matters.”

“I – what?” Jellal looks absolutely furious. “There is noway someone like you deserves someone like me. I’m not good enough. I bet youhated that kiss.”

“I don’t know how it felt – it was too short for me to tell.”Gray says. “Kiss me again and I’ll tell you exactly what I think.”

And he doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling Jellal’s body towardshis. Melding their lips.

The kiss is eternity itself to Gray, and when they finally resurfaceto breathe, he says in a daze, “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“What-”

“Go out with me, Jellal.” Gray’s daze is gone now. He leanshis elbows on the desk and stares into Jellal’s eyes. “Go out with me.”

“Okay.” Jellal mutters.

–

“And that is the story of how Gray and Jellal ended up gettingmarried like the idiots they are,” Erza announces proudly, lifting her glass. “Tothe grooms!”

They all drink, and the newlyweds share a shy glance.

Jellal places his palm over Gray’s.

He smiles, and Gray smiles back.

Meeting you was thebest thing that ever happened to me.

--

Hope you liked it!! I will be editing and adding the Gratsu soon enough, hopefully that doesn’t turn into a 3k thing like this did xD@tardisthroughthefandoms, you’d asked me to @you, so I did haha

[aceprosecuties]

This is unedited and probably out of character but I wanted some Simon-Klav friendship with angsty and drunk Klavier.  This is pure self-indulgence.  Mentions of Kristoph, Apollo, Ema, and Daryan; could be read as slight Klapollo references.  Approx. 2300 words.  (I might at some point revisit this and make it longer idefk) 

“Since when do you drink at the office?”

Once again, Simon found himself staying overly late at work – it had been dark for at least two hours, and he originally thought that he was the last person around.  Hell, even Edgeworth had gone home already; Simon really wished his boss would just hire a new prosecutor already. Because of how short staffed they were, he and the more experienced prosecutors had been working overtime for more than a few weeks now, and it was starting to take a toll.  

The paychecks were nice, but Simon would like some time to his own hobbies once in a while…which was why he was particularly happy about the fact that it was Friday and he actually had Saturday off.

He was about to finally leave, but noticed that Klavier Gavin’s light was on, and invited himself into his coworker’s office with barely a knock on the ajar door.  When he did, he saw Klavier drinking whiskey straight from the bottle, hence why he asked his question.  Klavier’s cheeks and nose were a little red, indicating that he had to have been drinking for some time now.

But his eyes were also red.  And not in the drunk sort of way.

Klavier had shrugged at the initial inquiry, not even bothering to try and hide what he was doing.  Instead, he just took another swig.

“…Maybe you should take it easy, Gavin-dono.” Simon walked over and pulled the bottle from Klavier’s hands.  He met no resistance and so he put the bottle somewhere out of reach.  “What is this all about?”

“…Herr Blackquill, it’s rude to come in without knocking,” Klavier slurred, echoing a sentiment that Simon had said more than a few times to him in the past.

“I’m aware, but I figured since you’ve done it to me so much I would return the favor now.  Turnabout is fair play, you know,” Simon retorted, smirking.  “But you have yet to answer my question.”

Klavier just stared at his empty hands, remaining silent and refusing to look up at Simon.  Rather than try and press the topic further (for the time being, at least), Simon sighed and pulled out his phone, looking up the number to call a car.

“Well, I can’t just have you passing out here alone, so I’ll-”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Simon’s fingers stopped, his thumb hovering over the call button on his touchscreen.  Although he was now staring dumbfounded at Klavier, his coworker still did not lift his gaze.  “…Why the hell would you ever ask something as ridiculous as that?”

Again, Klavier shrugged, as if he was trying to pass off such a deep question as an innocuous query.  When he said nothing else, Simon knew what he had to do – he pressed the call button on his phone, asking for a car to drive him from the prosecutor’s office to his own apartment.

“Alright, let’s go.”  While he did want to continue that conversation, he didn’t want to force anything right now, so he just held his hand out for Klavier, who finally looked at him confusedly.  “Obviously I’m not going to leave you here by yourself.  Or in your own apartment, by the way.  So you’re coming back with me.”  

Surprisingly, Klavier didn’t object.  Maybe he was too tired to…or too drunk…or both.  However, when he took Simon’s hand he still managed to stumble after standing up, and looked alarmingly pale when he tried to move. “…I need to sit back down.”

“You sit back down and we’ll end up staying here all night.”

But Klavier refused to move.  With an irritated sigh, Simon ended up doing something that made him more than grateful for the fact that no one else was around right now: he brought one of his arms under Klavier’s knees and placed the other on the man’s back, scooping him up so that Simon was carrying him, bridal-style.

“H-Herr Blackquill, what are you-!”

“You throw up on this coat and I’m billing you for the dry cleaning,” Simon interrupted.  Klavier’s hands locked around his neck for support, and luckily Simon heard no further protest.  He carried Klavier to the elevator and down, not putting him down until their car had eventually arrived.  And when he did, it was with a shocking amount of care, almost as if he was afraid that handling Klavier too roughly would somehow break him.  

He hopped into the back seat as well, not even minding when Klavier put his head on Simon’s shoulder to try and use it as some sort of uncomfortable pillow.  

Simon was expecting him to pass out or something, but heard Klavier speak softly after a few moments of driving in silence. “Why did Apollo leave?”  

“Justice-dono?”  Simon hadn’t expected Klavier to use the defense attorney’s real name rather than his affectionate nickname, and he tried to angle his head enough so that he could maybe catch a glimpse of Klavier’s face.  “Athena told me that he was helping Sahdmadhi-dono rebuild the legal system in Khura’in.  Did…he not tell you?”

“Sort of.  It’s been hard to get in contact with him…”  Klavier trailed off.  “I don’t think he really cares, anyway.  He’s seemed…annoyed with me lately, for some reason.”  Klavier didn’t know if he was reading too much into it or if he had greatly upset Apollo somehow.  “Maybe he’s been talking more with the Fräulein Detective…”  Ema also left for Khura’in without so much as a call or notification.  

It all made Klavier feel very lonely.  And disregarded.  

“Justice-dono and Skye-dono have been very busy.  I wouldn’t look too into it.”  Still though, did Apollo not even give Klavier a courtesy call…?  That would seem uncharacteristically…thoughtless of him, especially given how important he was to Klavier.  

“Maybe…”

Klavier again trailed off, and Simon wondered if he could get Apollo’s number from Athena…

When they arrived at Simon’s apartment building, Simon once again carried Klavier; it was a bit obnoxious trying to go up the stairs and open the door, but he managed well enough.  He placed Klavier on his couch gently, and was about to go get some asprin and water but was stopped when Klavier all of a sudden grabbed his wrist.  

“Don’t leave.”

“I was just going-”

“Please…don’t leave me alone like everyone else.”

That was alarming.  Simon motioned for Klavier to make room on the couch, and sat down, facing the fellow prosecutor.  “Klavier. Talk to me.”

“…It’s just…”  Klavier took in a shaky breath – it was obvious he was trying to hold back tears, and he hugged himself as if that could make all of his pain and fears suddenly go away.  “Everyone I care about…leaves.  Herr Forehead, the Fräulein Detective, my bandmates, Daryan…”  In his mind, Daryan deserved a separate mention from the rest of his band, given his particular importance to Klavier.  

He again inhaled, stiffening as he said the next name:  “…Kristoph…”

Simon held his breath – he remembered Kristoph. He never really got to meet him, but there were enough rumors around the prison about the man: despite there being frightening mobsters and assassins and gangsters incarcerated, Kristoph was one of the most feared. People called him “the Devil” since he – much like the fallen angel Lucifer – had a beautiful face and a silver tongue and a poisonous smile that could supposedly kill you as soon as you looked at it.  He remained in solitary for the most part, though Simon was one who was actually able to see him after his second trial – Kristoph seemed unhinged and mad, screaming about betrayal and Phoenix Wright.  

“People compare me to him, you know.”  As Simon was mentally imagining the elder Gavin, Klavier spoke again.  “They don’t always say it, but I can see it. The way they look at me sometimes. Herr Wright still hates me because he sees Kristoph, I know it.”

“Klavier that’s-”

“Maybe that’s why Apollo didn’t even bother explaining things to me,” Klavier continued, finally allowing his fears and sadness to have a voice.  “He thinks I’m just like him, deep down.”  Tears were flowing from his eyes now, and he laughed, though there was no joy in it.  “It’s my own fault, for keeping this damn hairstyle. I just…couldn’t change it.  I couldn’t…”

His words devolved into incoherent sobs.  His shoulders shook and his body trembled, and Simon didn’t know exactly what to do to comfort him.  

“Klavier…if anyone actually knew you, they’d know that you’re nothing like your brother.”

“Then why do they all leave, Simon?  Do they all hate me?  Are they afraid I’ll end up like him eventually?  Kris…he was good once…he was.”  Klavier told himself that every single day since Kristoph went to jail, because thinking the opposite was far too painful.  Again he became hysterical, once in a while just muttering his brother’s name in an anguished whisper.  

Simon grabbed Klavier’s shoulders tightly, forcing the man to look at him.  “You are nothing like him,” he repeated.  He didn’t have an answer as to why everyone seemed to leave though…he didn’t know what to say.  “You need to believe that, regardless of everyone else, Klavier.”

“But-”

“Silence.”  Simon’s catchphrase did not have its usual harshness, but Klavier still winced. Simon wasn’t good at this, he knew; he wasn’t the best person to go to for comfort, but he could at least try and alleviate some of Klavier’s fears.  “I haven’t left, have I?”  

Klavier shook his head.

“Right.  And it’s because I know that this comparison is rubbish.”

Klavier appeared to calm down, but otherwise remained unconvinced.  Simon stood up and when Klavier opened his mouth to speak, he just said, “I need to get you some asprin and water otherwise you will not be able to function in the morning.  I’ll be right back.”

Simon left to head to his bathroom. Unfortunately, he was in there longer than he originally thought, because he was unable to find the medicine in its usual spot.  When he finally emerged, he noticed that Klavier was no longer on the couch.  

He heard soft crying from his bedroom.

And when Simon entered, the first thing he noticed was his floor: covered in blond hair and droplets of blood.  

“Klavier!”

Klavier was sitting at his desk chair, and somehow had had enough coordination to grab his katana from off its place on the wall – he was holding the sword by the blade as he tried to cut off pieces of his hair.  Blood was flowing from his hands down his arms and dripping onto Simon’s floor, but Klavier didn’t seem to notice.  Blame it on the drink numbing the physical pain.

Simon rushed over and forced Klavier away from the katana as quickly as possible without hurting his hands more.  “Fuck, Klavier, what were you thinking?”  His voice was amplified due to his worry, and he tossed his sword away.  He knelt down and grabbed Klavier’s hands in his own; they were sliced by the palms and the fingers.  

“Do not move.”

Simon ran back to his bathroom and quickly located some antiseptic and bandages before rushing back, grateful that Klavier was in the same spot he left him in. Once again, Simon knelt down; he wiped away the excess blood before putting the antiseptic on the wounds.  “Why did you do this?”

“I can’t look like him anymore.  I just…needed to cut it.”  Klavier’s voice was soft and vulnerable, like a child after getting caught doing something he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing.  

“By using my katana and maiming your own hands?”

“I’m sorry…I just was afraid I would change my mind if I didn’t do it now…”

Simon sighed as he wrapped the bandages around Klavier’s hands.  When he looked up, Klavier’s cheeks were wet with tears and his hair was disheveled and uneven – he did not do a very good job with his impromptu haircut.  “My sword is not meant for hair, Klavier.  These injuries could have been far worse.”

“Sorry,” Klavier repeated.  

Simon finished up his hands and told Klavier to stay again.  He started looking through his desk drawers until he found what he wanted: a pair of scissors.  After grabbing them, he stood and positioned himself behind Klavier, gently grabbing hold of some of the hair that managed to survive the chop.  

“You might need to go to an actual hairdresser tomorrow but I can at least try and fix this up a little bit.”  

And Simon snipped and snipped, trying his best to even out Klavier’s hair as best as possible, until it no longer even went past his shoulders.  When he finished, Klavier’s hair didn’t look bad, but it definitely would require some reshaping in order to fit Klavier’s personality.  

“Now…into the bed.”

Klavier turned and looked at Simon with questioning eyes.  “I’m not even okay with leaving you in a different room, so you’ll stay in my bed.”

“But what about you?”

“I usually sleep on the floor anyway, so this is fine.”

Simon helped Klavier up, stripped him of his jacket and jewelry, and tucked him into his bed, but not before finally forcing him to take asprin and drink some water.  

“You don’t have to worry about me leaving, you know,” Simon whispered after Klavier closed his eyes.  “As much as you annoy me sometimes…you’re my friend.”

Before going to sleep, Simon texted Athena to get some very important information.

And the next time Apollo Justice checked his voicemail, he was met with a message from a very angry Simon Blackquill ordering him to call Klavier otherwise he would “personally fly to Khura’in with the goal of relieving Apollo’s head from his shoulders.”