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“Apollo, calm down!”
“Calm down?” Apollo holds back something short of a yell. The office is quiet minus distant chatter and computer clacking and Trucy on the phone at the desk scheduling some meeting.
“I'm the embodiment of calm! Calm people look towards me for inspiration!”
“Then why are you angrily stapling your files?” Clay quirks his lips upwards, peeking up from the monitor of his computer.
Apollo looks down. He's gone past his documents to turn in and has begun to staple unrelated drafts. He points the stapler at Clay with enough fury to send his desk flying.
“I am not !”
And from three desks across, Athena’s voice rings out.
“Watch where you're pointing your stapler, Apollo!”
“Am I angry? Yes,” Apollo says, rubbing the back of his neck, face slightly flushed. His eyes dart to the camera.
“Don't tell Clay, though. He takes pride in small victories.”
“I knew he was upset about something!” Clay adjusts the bandage on his cheek, which has begun to slide and show the staple-shaped dent near his jaw.
“I'm a pretty perceptive guy,” He points to his chest proudly. “But people tend to forget that. And yeah, I know exactly what Apollo is raging about but I’m gonna wait for him to rant about it to me on his own time.”
“What's he angry about?” Clay shrugs. “Same thing as always—that guy who works right above us on Mr. Edgeworth’s floor.”
“Klavier Gavin!” Apollo shrieks. He stands up immediately and Clay leans over their partition to ctrl-s Apollo’s spreadsheet before Apollo loses it and flips the desktop like last week. At the cluster of desks, there's a overlapping wave of sighs and here we go again .
“What are you doing here?”
At the frame of the door, Klavier and his stupid purple button down that is probably against their muted shade color code stands, leaning against the side.
“Available for dinner?”
“You're kidding me.”
“You're right—I came to deliver some documents,” he waves a stack of manila folders in his hand as if trying to waft the smell of extra paperwork into their floor.
“You could just give it to Wocky, he does all the errands around here.”
“Yes, but I needed a stretch break and decided it'd be better to give them personally.”
He bounces off the wall and approaches Apollo, whose face is contorted slightly in the disgusted kind of way. Clay holds up a clipboard in protection of any shrapnel that may present itself in the case of an onslaught of pens.
“So here they are,” Klavier’s mouth curves into a smile and he offers the documents. “Personally.”
He's a little too close for comfort, but then again Apollo will yell about the sun in the sky and the birds in the trees. Comfort is relative.
“Thank you,” Apollo says, eyebrows furrowed as he takes the files in one hand. “Personally.”
“I honestly don't know how much longer I can deal with this,” Athena sighs, biting into an avocado wrap.
“These two are constantly bickering like 80% of the time. Or more like one-sided bickering and Klavier just taking it, which accounts for the 20% where Apollo rags on him even more while holding office supplies threateningly. It's fun until you get a paper clip to the eye.”
She holds a hand over half of her face.
“Worst start to the weekend ever.”
“Anyway, are those two secretly into each other? Definitely. Apollo is just too blind and easily flustered to recognize it, let alone admit it. And when Klavier always jokes around with him and asks him to dinner, of course Apollo’s going to respond angrily. Klavier needs to learn how to be sincere first, so Apollo sees his true feelings.”
She digs into her teeth with a pinky and pulls out an inch of spinach.
“Of course, they're not getting marriage counseling from me, though. Not until Apollo returns my stapler. The one he attacked Clay with is his but he stole mine two weeks ago.”
“Ouch!” Apollo stumbles and looks through the blinds, balancing a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth and watches Athena walk out the door.
“Athena just tripped me and said something about a stapler.” He turns back around. “But okay, first of all, I am not friends with that guy. Klavier and I are like rivals but he's not cool or anything like an actual rival.”
He spoons more yogurt into his mouth stubbornly.
“He's stupid and all he does is bother me. He's in advertising and I’m in marketing, and just because we’re a floor apart doesn't mean he has to show up and do his little German polka waddle over here and annoy me.”
“So what do I want him to do? To leave me alone, obviously.”
“Apollo’s a liar and we all know it,” Trucy hums. There's a tupperware container of something colorful in her hands.
“He secretly enjoys when Klavier comes to bother him and looks like a kicked puppy when someone enters the floor that isn't him.”
“Everyone's already bet on how long it will take for them to get together. The entire advertising floor thinks it'll take three months, and half of marketing thinks it'll take a year. Data processing thinks that Apollo will kill him before he gets a chance, and even though he’ll deny being part of it, Mr. Edgeworth has fifty dollars on it being on New Years.”
“Also, why is everyone having their lunch break here? There's a line outside.”
“I don't get caught up in senseless office drama, get off my floor. Wait, did Klavier visit marketing again today? Damn it, I told him to hold off until December.”
Lunch break rolls by smoothly, a few scuttling off to the parking lot to hurry and buy a meal before heading back to work, some lingering in the office, and the rest heading down to the lunch room after a little bit.
“Athena, do you know where the ice pack is?” Apollo calls out, glancing into the break room’s freezer, leaning on one foot and holding his other ankle with his free hand.
“Right where you lost my stapler.”
“What?”
“I think someone on the other floor stole it. Use the peas.”
Apollo pulls out a bag of frozen peas from the back of the fridge.
“Since when did we have a bag of frozen peas?”
“Ever since we lost the ice pack,” Clay says, rolling up his sleeves and unwrapping his meal from the microwave.
Apollo presses it against his ankle and straightens his leg out to balance it.
“Where's Maya?” He questions, glancing around the break room.
“She went out to pick up burgers.”
“Burgers plural as in to share with us?” Clay lifts hopeful eyes.
“Burgers plural as in she's going to eat them in her car and come back upstairs with a bag of ketchup for you.” Athena says.
“She could at least mix it up a bit with barbecue—oh hey Klavier!”
Apollo immediately straightens and feels the hairs at the back of his neck rise.
“Why are you—oh, hi Mr. Wright.” He gives a nervous wave and lets his body deflate and shoots a menacing glance at a laughing Clay.
“Good afternoon, team,” Phoenix says, entering the room with a paper bag in tow. “Or squad. Is that what younger people are calling their friends now?”
“No, daddy,” Trucy runs a hand through her hair. “We discussed this—”
“My squad? Are you guys my squad now?”
“Dad.”
“Mr. Wright please.”
“Alright I get it, you don't want to turn up at lunch with me—”
“Stop.”
“But I’m going to sit down regardless because I have that type of authority. Anyway, Apollo,” he digs into the bag and pulls out a fruit mix in a plastic cup. “Any reason why you looked so salty when Klavier was mentioned?”
“All the time, all the time,” Trucy groans. “You don't know what it's like at home. He made an Instagram page. An Instagram page, and he reposts memes! He always comes up to me asking what these things mean! Why is he so enthralled about a frog on a unicycle?! I'm so tired.”
“Do I know about the current situation between Apollo and Klavier? Yes,” Phoenix nods.
“It's just kind of funny watching everything play out from my office where I am safe behind the blinds and no one is the wiser. I mean, it’s been eight months since they started interacting. Me and Miles already bet on a New Year's get-together. Wait, don't tell him I said that, he wants to keep his involvement a secret.”
“But yeah, messing with him is probably the highlight of each day. Minus two weeks ago. Highlight of that day was how I found a stapler. I have two staplers now, for just one guy like me. My luck is everlasting, and as they say, it's lit.”
“I'm not—I'm not salty, ” Apollo sputters.
“Yeah,” Clay says. “Less salty, more like, Athena you know that reaction photo of Spongebob overlaid with another—”
“Yeah, with the cowboy hat.”
“Alright, stop!” Apollo huffs, tossing his empty yogurt into the trash. “I don't care about that guy so why would I react to his name!”
“I could see your blood pressure rising from the parking lot,” Maya says, skipping through the break room door with a crumpled fast food bag.
“Yes!” Clay pumps a fist. “Anything to share?”
“Sorry, I didn't order that much,” There's a crumpled and lengthy receipt stapled to the bag that she snatches and tosses. “There's leftover barbecue sauce in the bag though.”
“Jackpot!”
Clay fishes them out and decorates his lunch with one, and puts the remaining few in his pocket. Apollo doesn't think about it.
“So yeah,” Maya says eventually, once she's settled into a seat. “You go bananas each time Klavier is mentioned or seen. When are you just going to have a decent dinner conversation with him?”
“When he's the last person on Earth and I can no longer rely on my stapler as a form as sanity.”
“Lucky you.”
“What'd you say, Athena?”
“Nothing. In any case, you should at least try and hang with the guy. He's actually trying to bond with you but you keep pushing him away.”
“No I don't,” Apollo opens his plastic bag to reveal an array of fruits and small cut sandwiches. “I didn't push him away this morning when he gave me this lunch.”
Silence. A pause. The sound of another barbecue sauce packet being opened.
“Huh?” Phoenix says between a bite of chicken.
“Seriously?!” Clay peers over and looks at the assortment of foods with wide eyes along with everyone else.
“So what?” Apollo shrugs. “It was when I was clocking in and I was in a good mood, and wasn't going to turn down food. Besides, it's no big deal I guess, he probably just picked up extra back from the convenience store.”
There's a collective groan that Apollo misses as he pops open the plastic container.
“He's an idiot.” Clay says. There's sauce on his chin. “That lunch was homemade! Homemade! Those sandwiches were cut into triangles , and the melons were spooned, man, does Gavin have it bad.”
“Yes I have it bad,” Klavier says, adjusting himself in his seat. “Apollo is kind of oblivious when it comes to these type of things, but I suppose it'll make for a bigger impact once he realizes that I’ve been into him for almost a year now. I mean, with the lunch this morning, the triangles must have been a dead give-away.”
“I like messing with him though. Also, when did these interviews, confessionals, start? Have I been missing out? Why doesn't the advertising floor have this.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: ;)
so what are u wearing
– Klavier Gavin, Wright-Worth & Co. Advertising Director
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: ;)
Are you seriously trying to sext me through email and even sign it off like a professional message
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: ;)
I can't help it its my set signature. answer the question
– Klavier Gavin, Wright-Worth & Co. Advertising Director
From: [email protected]
Subject: Ew
Ok 1. ew I can literally hear your snobby voice saying “Klavier gavin advertising director” change it asap. 2. I’m not answering your stupid question go back to work 3. Stop distracting me I have to work on the upcoming winter project
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Ew
:) 1. done. 2. if you tell me I'll bring you lunch again 3. oh yeah I just finished up our promotional pages to send in to the magazine companies by this week. check out the design.
[attachment: winterpage2.pdf]
– Klavier Gavin, yours truly.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Lunch as bribery is a new low but I will fall for it
stop the emoticons 1. That's even worse. 2. white button down and red tie and black pants. I don't like peaches. 3. Looks nice, but there's a part in the corner where the lettering overlaps with the design outline though.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Lunch as bribery is a new low but I will fall for it
;))))) 1. fixed again. 2. ill make note of that. 3. oh true, I'll send it back to Kay to get edited, thanks.
don't bring lunch tomorrow. ham vs turkey??
– Klavier Gavin, amazing stud 10/10
From: [email protected]
Subject: Thanks
Turkey.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Thanks
;))))))
– Klavier Gavin, Wright-Worth & Co. Advertising Director and still yours truly
From: [email protected]
Subject: Seriously
Stop smiling at your monitor and get back to work.
[attachment: grumpy_cat.png]
“Each week is a tricky one,” Clay says. He ties his tie with both hands at a slow pace.
“But I've been able to locate patterns. For example, Maya always gets wings on Tuesdays because of a discount at Wild Wings, so she sneaks out a bit earlier before lunch. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Trucy leaves early since she only works part-time and then goes to her dance classes. Thursdays is drycleaning day so Mr. Wright always comes in looking fresher on Friday, sweet Fridays, which is pay day.”
“Anyway, what I’m saying is that I know this office’s routine like the back of my hand, but here's something I haven't been able to predict and pattern—Klavier’s been bringing Apollo lunch like every day.”
Clay begins to roll and button his sleeves, giving a dramatic sigh.
“I know! It's strange too, because the days that Klavier doesn't bring him lunch, Apollo has one. And when Apollo doesn't have one, Klavier already has one prepared. Obviously, they are working some type of system, aka they are communicating outside of the office. And I want in.”
Apollo is home on Thursday night, having left the office a few hours ago and picked up his dry cleaning to hang in his closet for Monday’s work day. He wiggles into an old t-shirt and is ready to smother himself to sleep as he hops into bed, until his phone releases an onslaught of vibrations and text tones.
Just by staring at his notification screen and the contacts involved, he would much rather be smothered.
clay terranasaurus rex has started a group chat.
clay terranasaurus rex added ignore and You to the group chat.
clay terranasaurus rex renamed the group chat “squad up”
clay terranasaurus rex: hey what up gang
clay terranasaurus rex: my office gang, my paperwork pals
ignore: Business buddies
clay terranasaurus rex: salesman squad
ignore: company congregation
clay terranasaurus rex: lunch friends
ignore: that doesn't work
clay terranasaurus rex: speaking of lunch,
clay terranasaurus rex: what's up with these mystery gavin lunches that apollo has been getting the privilege of
Apollo Justice renamed the group chat “I'm putting this on do not disturb”
clay terranasaurus rex: wait come back
ignore: Babe
Apollo Justice: Okay ew don't call me that
Apollo Justice: If you're typing another nickname you might as well just stop now.
ignore: :(
clay terranasaurus rex: ANYWAY those lunches. i'm in
Apollo Justice: What lunches
clay terranasaurus rex: the ones that klavier makes you like every day!!! why u getting special treatment and I am left to honey mustard packets from Wild Wings
ignore: oh that's an upgrade
clay terranasaurus rex: maya is good to me
Apollo Justice: Klavier just picks it up at the grocery store anyway, you can do the same. He's treating me as compensation for all the headaches he's given me.
clay terranasaurus rex: are u dumb
clay terranasaurus rex: they're triangles apollo
Apollo Justice: What
Apollo Justice: What does the shape of sandwiches have to do with anything:
clay terranasaurus rex: sigh
clay terranasaurus rex: klav u better tell him and send me screenshots afterwards
clay terranasaurus rex has left the conversation.
Apollo Justice: What.
Apollo Justice: What does he mean by that.
ignore: he's talking about the lunches
Apollo Justice: Yeah what about them.
ignore: they're not store bought
ignore: i make them
Apollo drops his phone onto his face and lets out a mortified squeak. The oil on his face blots onto the screen and smudges the last message but he already has read it. I make them .
He thinks of plastic cups of spooned spooned fruits and oh my god spherical watermelon and clean triangular cut turkey sandwiches, alternating in sauces and ingredients. And also maybe the fact that Klavier requests the container back at the end of the day.
With a groan, he silences his phone and rolls over, letting the pillow muffle his suffering.
“I think I've done something wrong,” Clay whispers, to himself almost. Minus the fact he looks the camera straight in the eye. Lens. Eye. Same thing.
“There's this weird tension throughout the entire building that even Data Processing came upstairs to ask if there was a draft or something. I think it has to do with Apollo and Klavier. Klavier told me the group chat died after I left since Apollo didn't respond, and today Apollo came in with his own lunch. Coincidence? Possibly.”
“Apollo! Quit sulking!” Trucy calls from the front desk, lifting her hand from her pen and paper that is less scheduling and more doodles.
“I'm not sulking! I'm fine !”
“I can hear your frowning,” Maya says.
“One, that's impossible. Two—”
“Oh my god quit your counting, why do you have to number off each one of your points,” Athena groans.
“One, because it organizes my thoughts. Two—”
“Squad,” Phoenix’s office door cracks open.
“Don't call us that.”
“Let's get back to work, we have to finalize budget and distribution papers. Advertising already finished their work and I was planning on beating them.”
“Of course advertising is already done,” Athena slumps onto her desk. “All they do is make pretty posters and tell us how much it costs to put it in a magazine.”
“Athena,” Phoenix frowns. “You know it's a lot more than that.”
“Is that why Mr. Edgeworth is always the one waiting on you to clock out?”
Phoenix blinks.
“Alright. Squad dismissed, if any of you are playing around for the rest of today I will be whipping and nae naeing on your graves.”
“Not a mental image I've ever wanted,” Clay shudders.
“Did you guys fight or something?”
“Huh?”
Apollo is mid-bite into his grocery store sub sandwich. Wocky shrugs and tears through another bag of chips.
“Just saying, I’m a lot more observant than you may think.” He squints. “Has your hair always been spiked up like that?”
Apollo swats a hand to his head defensively.
“Yes! Now, who are you talking about?”
“You and the purple guy on the third floor, what's his name,”
“Klavier.”
“Chlorine.”
“Klavier.”
“Klappy.”
“Yeah, him. So why do you think we’re fighting?”
Wocky creeps his hands into Apollo’s plastic bag and reaches for a pack of gummies and gets smacked away.
“Because whenever I’m separating the mail at the front, I see you guys flirting at the clock-in station. And he gives you lunch sometimes. And whenever I’m running errands—I mean my duties, my job duties—you two are always talking or you're throwing stuff at him and he's visiting you like all the time.”
“And?”
“And now you guys haven't spoken since like—ouch! stop being so stingy—like last Thursday.”
Apollo scoots his bag closer to himself. “So what, it's not like the guy is obligated to make me lunch. It was nice and stuff but, but anyway he was bothering me and distracting me from my work and now we’re both getting a lot done.”
“Really? Because from what I can see from my hallway wandering is you and him both sulking. Literally just go talk to him.”
Apollo exhales. “It's not as easy at it seems, you don't—okay stop! Stop taking my food! I'm not sulking .”
“Then why are you having your lunch in the supply closet.”
Apollo squints. He would lean back but there's a broomstick already digging into his spine.
“Why are you having lunch in the supply closet?”
“You know,” Wocky adjusts the hat on his head to show the little scruff of bleached locks in the front. The hat isn't necessary unless he goes on deliveries or pickups but he likes it nonetheless.
“I really don't get that guy. You give the kid some guidance and love and suddenly he's judging your life habits and demanding you stop threatening to spray his lunch with lemon Pledge.”
“Apollo’s a mess, the least he could do is listen to my advice when it comes to Klause. Klappy. Whatever.”
The weekend comes and goes, and Apollo can keep his mind off of work and continue marathoning Kitchen Nightmares. Wocky was right—he had been actively avoiding Klavier. Or maybe it was mutual, he wasn't sure. They hadn't texted since last week, and the only interaction they had was brushing past each other at the clock-in station, bearing awkward good-mornings.
Days at work seemed to pass slower, no highlights off the day minus maybe Clay finding more strange things stored in his desk, or a few snippets of gossip from his coworkers.
He’ll admit, he has caught himself glancing at the doorframe a few times to catch a glance of purple, caught himself hoping that a sing-songed Justice will follow the ding of the elevator on their floor.
He misses spherical fruit.
And he misses something else that he does not want to admit.
It is Monday morning when he receives six new emails, two of which are spam, and one of which catches his attention simply from the sender alone.
From: [email protected]
Subject: (no subject)
meet me at copy room during lunch
– Klavier Gavin, Wright-Worth & Co. Advertising Director
“Oh,” Athena blinks. “I think Apollo’s blood pressure is rising again.”
“Does he have something planned?” Apollo yells. “Yes of course he does. He’s Klavier freaking Gavin, everything he does is ridiculous and spontaneous and I honestly don't know what he wants from me after—”
He turns the color of his tie.
“Stupid triangles.”
“Do I have something planned?” Klavier fiddles with the stack of blank copy paper in his arm. “You betcha.”
“Do we know Klavier has something planned?” Trucy adjusts the collar of her casual blouse. Secretary privileges.
“Of course. Everyone on this floor and possibly the building does. Are we gonna spy on them?” She lifts her cell phone between her fingertips. “You betcha.”
“Alright gang, let’s pipe it up.”
“You don’t pay us enough for this.”
“Shush, Athena. We’ve got an hour until lunch and I want the consumer and price projection for the winter project finalized before the end of the day.”
“The end of the day?” Apollo blinks. “The project isn’t set for completion until the end of the month. Isn't it more reasonable to project numbers after the advertising team finishes their end of the job?”
“Essentially,” Phoenix shrugs. “But our lovely advertising director upstairs has already submitted our promotional pages to compete with other businesses that are prepping for the winter rush and we are not going to lose.”
“Advertising director? We have one of those?” Trucy is leaning against her receptionist desk, changing the candy in the bowl from peppermint to Hershey kisses.
“Yes, it’s Apollo’s boyfriend, Klavier.”
Apollo’s nerves light up. “He's not my boyfriend! He's—”
“Yes, yes, your eternally sworn enemy, we know,” Athena rolls her eyes. She turns to Phoenix. “So basically you just want us to speed our work up a little?”
“A lottle.”
“...What?”
“It's not a little, it's a lot. A lottle. Speed your work up a lottle.”
“Give me a break.” Trucy scrunches a tin Hershey kiss wrapper in her fingers. “Nobody says that. Literally nobody .”
Apollo’s mind wanders as he punches numbers, certain he’ll end up having to triple-check these before he submits them. The digital clock at the corner of his screen ticks by, and his pulse seems to pick up at every change of the minute. There are 45 minutes until lunch break begins, and his tie feels as if it is constricting his throat.
“—Apollo?”
Clay’s head peeks out from the side of the partition.
“You good?”
Apollo scrunches his eyebrows. “Yes…? Do I not seem so?”
“You were refreshing your email for five minutes straight and I’m pretty sure you've been holding down the 5 key for a solid minute.”
Apollo glances at his screen. Glances at his hand that is unconsciously pressing down on the number pad. Removes it.
“I’m good.”
“He's not good,” Clay says. “Everyone from data processing to administration knows that Klavier is finally going to ask Apollo out today.”
He takes a sip from his mug. World’s Best Friend.
“I’m happy for the guy. Both of them. In the end, everyone benefits—they can stop pining and get something going, the tension in the office is gone, and I get $50 from Mr. Edgeworth. Smiles all around.”
“I’m not good.” Apollo’s hands drag down his face. “Can I leave early? Do I look sick? I feel sick. If I shove my face into a burning lamp, can I get Mr. Wright to let me go home?”
He pulls the blinds aside and looks into the main office floor.
“Twenty minutes until lunch. That means twenty minutes to get rid of myself. Do you think Maya will let me get hit by her car?”
“Lunch is in five minutes,” Trucy says. “And I am so pumped to find out what will happen between those two. It'll be like—what's that sound?”
She sits up and peeks through the shutters of the outside window.
“Oh geez, Apollo is trying to get hit by Maya’s car.”
“Hey gorgeous,” Clay spins around in his chair, legs wide and body nearly parallel to the ground as he slumps comfortably. “Where did you go?”
Apollo loosens his tie, face red with exhaustion.
“Parking lot.”
“Maya didn't follow through?”
“She's a fake friend.”
Clay sits up and pats his back. “Chin up, Apollo. Things could be worse.”
“Yes, Klavier could call me for a private talk and then the ceiling would crash onto us and I would die. Oh wait, then things would be better.”
“Hey!” Clay shakes his arm playfully. “Things’ll be fiiiine . I’m sure he just wants to address the fact that you've been avoiding each other and he wants to be casual with you again.”
“Uh huh, and that requires a private session.”
“Hey, sometimes a man needs an empty copy machine room to get his feelings across.”
Deep breaths. Apollo walks down the hallway with confident legs. The hallway is eerily quiet minus the familiar hum of the copier machine. The door to the room is ajar, and from the shuttered sliver of glass next to the door, he can make out purple.
Deep breaths.
He walks in.
Klavier is leaning against the machine, a stack of papers with him. He glances at Apollo and smiles like he always has. Apollo shuts the door behind him.
It's similar to when you bump into a close friend that you've grown distant to, and in your mind you see both of your histories flash in a second, but you both can only manage a hello and move on.
But this is Klavier.
“Hey.”
“I thought you would stand me up,” Klavier laughs.
“I don't have any reason to.”
“I saw you standing in front of Maya’s car and yelling at her to get on with it.”
He wishes the ceiling would collapse.
“I…don't know what you're talking about.”
“Uh huh.”
He presses a couple buttons on the machine and begins to copy a sheet.
“Did you bring a lunch?”
Apollo puts his hands in his pocket and steps further into the room. There is a plastic bag on the table and at the further end, something that resembles the frozen ice pack that went missing a few months ago, now turned a mushy lump of plastic. He should probably stick that back into the freezer.
“No, I was running late.” Which is true. He fell asleep beside his laptop and woke up to the sound of Gordon Ramsay criticizing a restaurant manager’s refrigerators.
“I brought you lunch, if that's okay.”
“Oh,” Apollo fixes on the plastic bag again. “For me.”
“For you.”
He reaches the table and picks at the bag. Same plastic box, the little square and rectangular compartments. Triangle-cut sandwiches of turkey, a side of spherical fruit, no peach slices, and two bottles of fruit juice, one already half empty.
His blood pressure picks up.
“What,” he turns his heel to face Klavier, some feet away, content with the hums of the machine. “What is this?”
“Turkey?”
“ No, I mean, this ,” he gestures his hands in the shape of the lunch container. “The whole lunch packing thing, the whole fricking, triangles .”
Klavier tilts his head.
“It means whatever you want it to mean.”
“Can you stop with the ambiguous dialogue all the time? And tell me?”
“You are so oblivious it hurts.”
“I am? Please explain because there must be something I’m not capable of picking up.”
Klavier actually looks irritated, and something pricks at Apollo’s skin when he sees the expression.
“Hmm, let's see,” he paces a step forward. “For what reason would I be risking scolding by my boss to come down to your floor and talk to you, spend time at night packing you a lunch and texting you to not bring one, and ask you to dinners that I know you will decline,” he puts his hands on his hips and leans forward, and tries a smile, not smug, but perhaps a little sad. “I can only guess.”
There is a hint of blood rushing to Klavier’s cheeks that Apollo's can subtly make out. When things are spelled out like that, they begin falling into place.
“You are…interested in me.”
“You are making me doubt my own flirting skills.”
Apollo flinches at the word.
“...Flirting.”
“They were triangles, Apollo,” Klavier draws the shape out with two index fingers. “ Triangles .”
“Then,” Apollo takes a step back. “Then why were you avoiding me for a week?”
“I was? You were.”
They stare at each other for a moment.
“Okay,” Klavier regresses. “It was a mutual thing. I thought, that you were uncomfortable with me, and I didn't want to make you feel worse.”
“All those times you came to harass me in my cubicle don't count as being uncomfortable?”
“We both enjoyed those interactions and you know it,” Klavier smiles. They're both grinning, they realize.
His smile drops half a tone.
“Was it? Uncomfortable for you, I mean. If you were just playing along to let me get my kicks in—”
“No,” Apollo says. He collects the thoughts that had been ruminating in his mind ever since the Food Network binge last weekend, and spills.
“I think, I was flirting back, in some form. And didn't recognize it as that, or refused to accept it.” His hand grips. “I did miss you. During the time we avoided each other. I kept looking at the door and wondering if you would come sauntering in.”
Klavier laughs.
“I’ve taken the elevator to your floor but never had the courage to step out. You really made me doubt myself, Justice.”
The machine dies down from inactivity, and Apollo’s eyes flicker to it in search of avoiding Klavier’s eye contact. But in an instant, he meets them again. He thinks, confidently, he has to do away with whatever nervousness builds up in him. Wants to do away with this bubbling in his stomach that happens whenever this stupid German advertising director bumbles into his path and makes him feel five hundred emotions at once.
“I don't want to be back to the way we were.”
Klavier hears this, and his shoulders drop by an inch. His mouth tightens.
“I want us to be,” Apollo steps forward. “More.”
Klavier’s expression is on the brink of morphing into something else, something optimistic, and Apollo wants to shy away. He doesn't.
“More?”
“Yes, as in this ,” Apollo raises his hands and inelegantly, yet confidently, draws a triangle with his fingers. “More.”
In a rush of air, Klavier hugs him. The warmth is sudden yet Apollo falls into it—the closest they've been before was arm-to-arm in a cramped elevator a few months ago and it was enough to shortcircuit his brain, yet in something as intimate as this, he feels the most comfortable he's been in a while.
“Can I kiss you?”
“No.”
“What,” Klavier is pouting. He is pouting. “ Why? ”
“Because the entire office staff is outside the door with their wallets out.”
A pause.
“Technically,” Clay’s muffled voice is clear enough in the dead silence. “The bet was on a getting-together, not a kiss.”
“You are dead to me, Gavin, dead .”
Apollo thinks he makes out Mr. Edgeworth’s voice.
Klavier laughs, and Apollo feels it against his head. There is some form of cheering outside the door—a mix of happy yells and disappointed groans and subsequent money transactions, but Apollo takes it all as some type of congratulations.
“He couldn't have waited one more month. One more month .” Edgeworth pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate young love.”
“Miles is secretly is a sap, ignore him.” Phoenix leans back in the chair and peeks through the shutters and examines Apollo, working diligently on his spreadsheet.
“You guys are so goals !” He yells through the glass. Apollo’s back freezes and he whips around and yells something indistinguishable. Clay holds his hand down to avoid Apollo reaching for the stapler. At the reception desk, Trucy looks horrified.
Phoenix sighs and faces front, face pleased.
“I’m a good boss.”
“See,” Maya nods. “He should thank me for not running him over. I think I played an integral role in getting this relationship sailing.”
“Say what you want,” Athena squints. “You are not getting your ten dollars back.”
“There is something magical about the New Years that provokes love and you can't blame me for voting the other side!”
Clay says nothing. He has an open grin on him, and slowly raises his mug to his face, mouthing the words imprinted on it.
World’s. Best. Friend.
“Boom.” Wocky takes off his hat. “I’m a relationship god. I was out sorting the mail and wasn't there when they finally hooked up, but I’m pretty sure it was all on me. Don't worry, I won't ask for a thanks, but hearing it would be nice.”
The day back into the office after the New Year is refreshing. Things seem brighter, happier, and maybe it is in part that half of them got blindingly drunk over the weekend and everything seems more positive when they can walk in a straight line without hugging the wall.
The New Year's party was a blast, and Apollo lost count of how many times Mr. Wright had yelled it’s lit before it became a common background noise.
Their Secret Santa exchange has been delayed in the rush of winter sales, and they exchanged during the New Years. Apollo fittingly gifted Athena a new stapler, and Klavier gifted him an expensive tie. He could only imagine the favors Klavier had to do to get Apollo’s actual secret Santa to exchange partners.
“Justice,” the name is sung, the familiarity of it paired with the ding of the elevator.
“Go away,” Clay groans. “Don't you have… advertising to do?”
“Clay, down,” Apollo says. He sits around in his chair and leans against the backing. “What do you want?”
“Can I not just visit to see your face?”
There is a collective groan from the floor.
“I liked it better when he got mad,” Athena sighs.
“Are you dropping off lunch?” Apollo holds his hand out.
“Nah,” Klavier reaches out and takes it, and in the moment of the office cringing again, kisses the knuckle. “But how about dinner?”
Apollo is laughing, and he answers, barely heard over the groans from his coworkers, but Klavier doesn't have to work hard to make out the yes shaped from his mouth.