Chapter Text
“You should fuck Gavin already,” Daryan says, and Apollo chokes on air.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why are you even here,” Apollo hisses, suddenly grateful Trucy’s running late. “Go bother Kla– Prosecutor Gavin.”
“First-name-basis, huh?” Daryan’s grin widens, and Apollo winces.
“Are you looking for a reason to murder me?”
It’s not like Apollo hasn’t thought about it. It’s kind of hard not to. Klavier’s distracting even when he doesn’t seem to be trying: leaning into Apollo’s space, flashing a smile across the courtroom, teasing that might not be flirting but feels like it –
Except there’s Daryan.
Sure, not dating, but it doesn’t take a bracelet to see it in the way they bicker, a hand on an arm or a half-finished sentence. Apollo likes his (nonexistent) love life uncomplicated, thanks, and a – boyfriend? ex? who apparently thinks – actually, is Daryan being a dick, I know you’re into him, he’s taken or is this a weird attempt to play wingman? Either way, complicated.
“Don’t need a reason to murder you, Spikes, I need a reason not to murder him.” Daryan flicks his obnoxious hair. “Seriously, Klavier’s pathetic when he’s pining, so hurry up and bone him.”
“Who says I want –”
“Your face every time he leans over that bench, that’s what. View’s better from the other side, by the way.”
What the hell. Apollo hopes the bailiffs aren’t paying attention (they definitely are). “Go away.”
Daryan smirks and makes no move to leave. Apollo glares at him.
“Fine, whatever. Let the record show I tried, your honor, they’re both just fucking dense.”
Apollo splutters indignantly, but Daryan finally saunters out before he can come up with a retort, leaving him beet red and painfully aware he’s about to spend an entire trial staring at Klavier and thinking.
Damn it.