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mllelaurelFandom: Ace Attorney
Title: A Warm Sort of Place
Characters: Dick Gumshoe, Maggey Byrde, Klavier Gavin, Simon Blackquill
Pairings: Background Gumshoe/Maggey
Rating: G! (I know, right...)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gumshoe and Maggey are comforting to traumatized prosecutors. (Based on a PW Kink Meme prompt)
The first time they met again, after the ten-car pileup that was the Enigmar trial, Gumshoe was too busy to notice Prosecutor Gavin’s presence, at first. Someone walking by might have assumed he was trying to mug a vending machine, but in practice, it may as well have mugged him, taking his crumpled dollar bills and failing to return a Cup Noodle for his trouble. He was just about to give it a final swift kick in the, uh, front, actually - no way to reach the blasted thing’s rear, much as it deserved it - when he heard a familiar accented voice.
“Don’t tell me it’s up to its old tricks again.” The purple jacket was new. Gumshoe’d gotten used to seeing the boy in all black, to the point where he almost didn’t recognize him. “If you ask me, I think the verdammt contraption’s been rigged to rob us blind and starve us, all at the same time.”
“Tell me about it, Pal,” Gumshoe muttered.
“It’s good to see you again, Detective.” Gavin extended his hand. His handshake was firm and cool. “Seven years, has it been?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Come now, Herr Gumshoe. You’re still a young man. I bet you’re still chasing criminals and collecting evidence with the best of them.”
Gumshoe rubbed the back of his neck. “I would be, if I could just get my lunch.”
Gavin grinned. “Tell you what. There’s a ramen place, a few blocks from here. I swear, it’s one of this city’s best-kept secrets. Most of the clientelle’s actually Japanese, which is always a good sign. My treat - and I can grill you on the Kitaki case, meanwhile?”
It sounded great, but… “Not my case,” Gumshoe was forced to admit. “You should talk to Ms. Skye, for that.”
Gavin laughed. “Ach, if only the lovely Fraulein Detective would talk to me. Instead, I get her cold shoulder. I’ll just have to pine away and get my case info elsewhere. Woe is me.”
“Rough luck,” Gumshoe commiserated. Ema was always nice to him, but he’d talked to her enough to know she blamed Gavin for Mr. Wright’s disbarment. Actually, he was kind of surprised she didn’t hold more of a grudge against him, considering his own involvement, but if it spared him her barbs, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in its mouth.
It was a shame about Mr. Wright, though. He was an alright guy, even if he did give Mr. Edgeworth more headaches than a concussion.
“So, uh… How much does this ramen place usually go for?” He had a sinking feeling the answer would not be in the ‘under five bucks’ region.
As I said, my treat,” Gavin replied. “It’s the least I can do, to repay all the hard work you detectives put in.”
“Hey, listen pal! I can’t just go around taking charity.” Even if it was delicious, delicious charity.
Gavin cocked his head. “Then how about you owe me a cup, when they finally replace this monstrosity.” He gestured at the vending machine.
“‘If’ pal. The word you’re looking at is ‘if.’” Okay, fine, Gavin had himself a deal.
It turned out to be the best damned ramen Gumshoe had ever eaten.
***
That was before the Tobaye trial, of course. Or the Misham trial. Ugh. Even thinking about that last one made Gumshoe break out into a cold sweat. He didn’t envy Skye her assignment, even if his own work at the time had involved enough Winston Payne to last him a year, easy.
Gavin took to staying long nights at the office, after that. Gumshoe would find himself leaving, around seven or eight, maybe, and there was the light in his office, still. He didn’t think much of it, at first. Mr. Edgeworth would do that all the time. Then again, Mr. Edgeworth didn’t know how to relax, bless the man, and Gumshoe was sure Gavin did. Or at least used to.
The perfect cup of rehydrated noodles took exactly three minutes to steep. You had to pour in just a little more water than you thought you needed, since it would take a while to seep on down, then cover it with a saucer and let it stand. Microwaving it just led to soggy noodles, and not the good, homey kind of soggy, either.
Hopefully Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t wondering where that one saucer out of his tea set had gone… Gumshoe swore he would return it, next time he saw the Chief Prosecutor.
Oh, and if you were going to add extra flavoring, you had to do it before you put in the water, not after, or it would just float to the top, like so much dry gunk. There was a ritual and a process to it.
This was the long-owed cup of ramen that Gumshoe deposited on Gavin’s desk, one gloomy January Tuesday. The prosecutor blinked at him for a moment, confused.
“Told you I’d do it, Sir. A Gumshoe never welshes on his promises,” and the man’s face broke into a grin.
“Danke schöen.” He rummaged in his desk, pulling out a pair of chopsticks. “And call me Klavier, Detective. I’m far too young to be a ‘Sir.’”
It was a funny kind of name to give a guy. Gumshoe wondered what Gav- Klavier’s parents had been thinking. But he’d pronounced stranger, at the risk of Ms. Von Karma’s fearsome whip. “You got it, Pal. I just thought - since you hadn’t gone out after lunch, and the secretaries aren’t in anymore. I figured you’d want something hot to eat.”
Klavier, it turned out, was the kind of guy who slurped his noodles, like a regular Joe, though he didn’t get any on his jacket, the way Maggey did, sometimes. It was so damn cute, when she did, and the way she’d blush and fish them out...
“So, what are you still working on?” Gumshoe wondered, after the prosecutor had been fed.
Klavier fidgeted with the ends of his hair. “To tell the truth, I’ve been going over my brother’s old cases.”
“Oh? Were you involved in any of those, yourself?”
He shook his head. “Nein, but I wanted to see how far his corruption extended. I didn’t want to see it before, but now… Now I’m left wondering how many of his clients should have been behind bars. How many innocent people were incarcerated, because of him. If I can do something for them…”
No wonder he looked swamped. The elder Gavin had been busy, in his decade-long career.
“That’s a heckuva lot of cases.” Gumshoe whistled.
Klavier sighed. “Ja, that it is. Well, it isn’t as though I have anything better to do with my time, between cases of my own.”
“What about your band?” Gumshoe wondered. “I’ll have you know, my wife’s a real fan of yours. A real fan!” Maggey had made the biggest eyes at him, when he’d told her about the young prosecutor. Gumshoe hadn’t even known about Klavier’s music career, till she mentioned it. Hard to keep up with pop hits, what with the car’s radio busted.
“Oh, is she?”
“She is! Hey, uh… mind if I bring you some of her stuff? For signing and such…”
“Of course.” The corners of Klavier’s eyes crinkled slightly. “But to answer your earlier question, I’m afraid there isn’t really a band anymore. Not with our second guitarist in prison. Surely, you understand.”
Right. That made sense. Heckuva way for him to put his foot in his mouth, on that one. “And you’re not thinking of going solo?” Kid had a pretty nice voice.
“Perhaps,” Klavier mused.
“You should meet Maggey. She’ll convince you real good. No two ways about it.”
“I’d like that,” Klavier said, eyes crinkling again.
“It’d be no trouble at all,” Gumshoe promised. “Just wait till I tell her! She’s gonna jump five feet in the air.”
***
Maggey did jump five feet in the air, when he told her. And then tripped on the rug and nearly fell, but he’d gotten good at catching her, and the kiss she’d planted on his lips was worth a dozen dashing saves. Actually, those were worth it all by themselves, but the kisses made it even better.
Klavier had insisted on bringing a bottle of wine to dinner with him, and then, he’d insisted on signing everything a giggling, slightly-tipsy Maggey had presented to him. Well, almost everything. He’d demured at the joking suggestion that he ‘sign Dick’s butt, because he’s my fancy merchandise.’
“Your husband’s a treasure,” Klavier had told her. “I don’t suggest selling him on eBay,” and Maggey had whuffed him upside the head, at the suggestion that she might be persuaded to part with any of her precious CDs.
Afterwards, she’d shooed them both into the kitchen to do the dishes, regardless of whether or not Klavier was her idol, and the idol in question didn’t so much as peep in protest. “It’s how we divide things up,” Gumshoe told him. “She’s the real good cook in the family, but she drops the plates, sometimes. And okay, I drop them sometimes, too, but who doesn’t?”
“Who doesn’t?” Klavier echoed. “I certainly do.”
Gumshoe laughed. “I bet you don’t have to do your own dishes very often.” Klavier looked a little awkward, at that.
“We had staff for that, when I was a child, and now, well… Now I’m out of practice. At least I can still load the dishwasher.” He changed the subject. “You have a good place here. It’s warm, and I don’t just mean the space heater. Though putting stickers on said space heater was a nice touch. It’s cute. Frau Maggey’s idea, was it?”
“Got it in one! Maggey’s the cutest there is,” Gumshoe told him, pride in his eyes. “The apartment’s not much, but it’s got her and me in it, and that’s all that matters.”
“I envy you, Herr Gumshoe,” the prosecutor said, elbow-deep in soap suds, and Gumshoe couldn’t bring himself to argue.
“Wouldn’t trade any of this for the world, pal,” he said. “But you’re welcome to come for dinner again, anytime. Just give me a heads-up a week ahead, or so. So we can make sure to have something good in the fridge.”
“I’ll bring dessert with me next time, how’s that?” Klavier suggested, and Gumshoe nodded.
“Maggey loves those little, what do you call ‘em, French thingies. Long, with cream in the middle, and a chocolate stripe on top?”
“Eclairs?”
“Yeah, those are the ones!”
“Eclairs it is, then.”
***
Klavier’s case review continued well into spring and summer. He flagged Gumshoe down, one evening, as the sun was beginning to set. “Could I trouble you for your input, Detective?”
Gumshoe’s eyebrows went up. “Sure thing. But just so you know, I’m not much of an expert on defense attorney stuff. Give me a good crime scene, and I’m golden. Well, silver. Well. A metal. Definitely a metal.”
“You’re platinum, as far as I’m concerned,” Klavier assured him. “And this should be right up your alley. It’s not one of Kristoph’s old cases. Rather, it’s one of Daryan’s.”
Gumshoe thought back to what kinds of cases Crescend would have been handling. “Might be a little out of my league, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“You’re a good, honest man, and you know the procedures of an investigation. That’s all I ask. I need someone who’ll tell me if any of Daryan’s actions, in his capacity as a detective, seem off, somehow. It’s no more my field than law is yours, and I would appreciate your perspective.”
“You know, it’s not your job to spot-check those bastards,” Gumshoe offered.
Klavier shook his head. “I may not be paid to do it, but if I don’t, then who will? And it may be, everything else they’ve done is aboveboard. It may be I’m a suspicious fool. But it beats the blithe fool I’ve been, all those years.
“Do you think I’m wasting my time?” Klavier asked, abruptly, shifting gears, almost too quick for Gumshoe to catch.
Gumshoe clapped him on the back. “When’d wanting to help people ever been a waste of time? And that’s why you do it, isn’t it? To help people!”
Klavier looked up at the ceiling, eyes hidden. “I must have made it sound so altruistic. But it isn’t as though I’m not doing it for myself. For my own clear conscience and peace of mind.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Honestly? I keep wondering if my conscience deserves to ever be clear. A little paranoia keeps you on your toes, and…” He was playing with his hair again. “And there’s a part of me that wonders what it says, about the sort of man I am, to have friends and family like that. What is it in me that draws them? Maybe I’m just like them.”
“Are they the only friends you’ve got?” Gumshoe puffed himself up. “That hurts, pal, it really does! And here I thought we were pals, you and I. And what about Justice, or Skye, or any of those other people? You don’t think of them as friends, either?”
Klavier held up his hands. “Wow, I sounded like an ass just then, didn’t I?”
Gumshoe laughed. “Maybe a little. If you’re like your friends, then maybe you’re like me. And I think I’m a pretty okay kind of guy.” It still left the question of family, but Gumshoe couldn’t help much, there. Not unless he turned out to be a long-lost Gavin, and somehow he really doubted that. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to be filthy rich, all of a sudden, but no way he’d trade his old Mom and Pop for some uptight German folks. Not that there was anything wrong with uptight German folks! Look at Ms. Von Karma and sort-of-Mr.-Edgeworth.
“A good man, as I said. And if you count me a friend, then I’m honored.”
It brought a tear to Gumshoe’s eye. It really did. “‘Course I count you! And you can count on me.”
***
By the time he finished going through those old cases, the weary lines around Klavier’s mouth had eased a little. More and more, Gumshoe saw him smiling and laughing. For real, all the way down to his belly. He’d pause in the middle of his work to put on some background music; to flirt with one of the secretaries or mail clerks. By the time July rolled around, he was leaving the office well before the security staff swapped over to night shift. Gumshoe saw him spending more and more time with Wright’s daughter and apprentice. Even Skye would join them, every so often, and he’d be a monkey’s uncle if her insults weren’t a lot less heated than Gumshoe remembered.
Klavier continued on as a dinner regular, once every couple of weeks. Maggey claimed she was going to teach him how to make brownies, though their last attempt had ended in a sneezing, cocoa-powdered prosecutor, and a dozen lumps that vaguely resembled brownies, maybe, if Gumshoe squinted.
It must have been about a year since that time with the vending machine, when Klavier caught him in the hallway and asked, “Have you had the chance to meet my newest colleague? Surely, you’ve at least heard of Herr Blackquill.” Surly fellow, Gumshoe thought, not that he could blame him. He was still kicking himself, for not having seen what was up with Fulbright. You thought you knew a guy...
He called Maggey up, later that day. “Sweetpea? Do you know what birds like to eat? No, not Maggey Byrdes, though if you want me to pick up something, I’m all ears, pal. No, big birds. Hawks and the like. Meat, huh? That’s easy enough. Oh, and would it be okay, if I brought an extra guy over for dinner, this week? He’s got the bird. Wouldn’t be nice, to just leave it out, right?” Blackquill looked like he could use half a dozen home-cooked meals in him, and maybe after a while, the bags under his eyes would start easing up, too.
For all his bumbling, Gumshoe has a happy go lucky, if often simplistic nature. This comes as a comfort to the various prosecutors in the Prosecutors' Office because, well, talking about it does help and Gumshoe would be the last person to blab or use anything they say against them.
Basically, I want Gumshoe being unknowingly comforting to the prosecutors around the office. Special focus of Simon and Klavier (considering what they went through) would be amazing and most appreciated!
I'm not sure how well I succeeded at the 'unknowingly' part, but hopefully I got something close enough to the prompt.
Title: A Warm Sort of Place
Characters: Dick Gumshoe, Maggey Byrde, Klavier Gavin, Simon Blackquill
Pairings: Background Gumshoe/Maggey
Rating: G! (I know, right...)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gumshoe and Maggey are comforting to traumatized prosecutors. (Based on a PW Kink Meme prompt)
The first time they met again, after the ten-car pileup that was the Enigmar trial, Gumshoe was too busy to notice Prosecutor Gavin’s presence, at first. Someone walking by might have assumed he was trying to mug a vending machine, but in practice, it may as well have mugged him, taking his crumpled dollar bills and failing to return a Cup Noodle for his trouble. He was just about to give it a final swift kick in the, uh, front, actually - no way to reach the blasted thing’s rear, much as it deserved it - when he heard a familiar accented voice.
“Don’t tell me it’s up to its old tricks again.” The purple jacket was new. Gumshoe’d gotten used to seeing the boy in all black, to the point where he almost didn’t recognize him. “If you ask me, I think the verdammt contraption’s been rigged to rob us blind and starve us, all at the same time.”
“Tell me about it, Pal,” Gumshoe muttered.
“It’s good to see you again, Detective.” Gavin extended his hand. His handshake was firm and cool. “Seven years, has it been?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Come now, Herr Gumshoe. You’re still a young man. I bet you’re still chasing criminals and collecting evidence with the best of them.”
Gumshoe rubbed the back of his neck. “I would be, if I could just get my lunch.”
Gavin grinned. “Tell you what. There’s a ramen place, a few blocks from here. I swear, it’s one of this city’s best-kept secrets. Most of the clientelle’s actually Japanese, which is always a good sign. My treat - and I can grill you on the Kitaki case, meanwhile?”
It sounded great, but… “Not my case,” Gumshoe was forced to admit. “You should talk to Ms. Skye, for that.”
Gavin laughed. “Ach, if only the lovely Fraulein Detective would talk to me. Instead, I get her cold shoulder. I’ll just have to pine away and get my case info elsewhere. Woe is me.”
“Rough luck,” Gumshoe commiserated. Ema was always nice to him, but he’d talked to her enough to know she blamed Gavin for Mr. Wright’s disbarment. Actually, he was kind of surprised she didn’t hold more of a grudge against him, considering his own involvement, but if it spared him her barbs, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in its mouth.
It was a shame about Mr. Wright, though. He was an alright guy, even if he did give Mr. Edgeworth more headaches than a concussion.
“So, uh… How much does this ramen place usually go for?” He had a sinking feeling the answer would not be in the ‘under five bucks’ region.
As I said, my treat,” Gavin replied. “It’s the least I can do, to repay all the hard work you detectives put in.”
“Hey, listen pal! I can’t just go around taking charity.” Even if it was delicious, delicious charity.
Gavin cocked his head. “Then how about you owe me a cup, when they finally replace this monstrosity.” He gestured at the vending machine.
“‘If’ pal. The word you’re looking at is ‘if.’” Okay, fine, Gavin had himself a deal.
It turned out to be the best damned ramen Gumshoe had ever eaten.
***
That was before the Tobaye trial, of course. Or the Misham trial. Ugh. Even thinking about that last one made Gumshoe break out into a cold sweat. He didn’t envy Skye her assignment, even if his own work at the time had involved enough Winston Payne to last him a year, easy.
Gavin took to staying long nights at the office, after that. Gumshoe would find himself leaving, around seven or eight, maybe, and there was the light in his office, still. He didn’t think much of it, at first. Mr. Edgeworth would do that all the time. Then again, Mr. Edgeworth didn’t know how to relax, bless the man, and Gumshoe was sure Gavin did. Or at least used to.
The perfect cup of rehydrated noodles took exactly three minutes to steep. You had to pour in just a little more water than you thought you needed, since it would take a while to seep on down, then cover it with a saucer and let it stand. Microwaving it just led to soggy noodles, and not the good, homey kind of soggy, either.
Hopefully Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t wondering where that one saucer out of his tea set had gone… Gumshoe swore he would return it, next time he saw the Chief Prosecutor.
Oh, and if you were going to add extra flavoring, you had to do it before you put in the water, not after, or it would just float to the top, like so much dry gunk. There was a ritual and a process to it.
This was the long-owed cup of ramen that Gumshoe deposited on Gavin’s desk, one gloomy January Tuesday. The prosecutor blinked at him for a moment, confused.
“Told you I’d do it, Sir. A Gumshoe never welshes on his promises,” and the man’s face broke into a grin.
“Danke schöen.” He rummaged in his desk, pulling out a pair of chopsticks. “And call me Klavier, Detective. I’m far too young to be a ‘Sir.’”
It was a funny kind of name to give a guy. Gumshoe wondered what Gav- Klavier’s parents had been thinking. But he’d pronounced stranger, at the risk of Ms. Von Karma’s fearsome whip. “You got it, Pal. I just thought - since you hadn’t gone out after lunch, and the secretaries aren’t in anymore. I figured you’d want something hot to eat.”
Klavier, it turned out, was the kind of guy who slurped his noodles, like a regular Joe, though he didn’t get any on his jacket, the way Maggey did, sometimes. It was so damn cute, when she did, and the way she’d blush and fish them out...
“So, what are you still working on?” Gumshoe wondered, after the prosecutor had been fed.
Klavier fidgeted with the ends of his hair. “To tell the truth, I’ve been going over my brother’s old cases.”
“Oh? Were you involved in any of those, yourself?”
He shook his head. “Nein, but I wanted to see how far his corruption extended. I didn’t want to see it before, but now… Now I’m left wondering how many of his clients should have been behind bars. How many innocent people were incarcerated, because of him. If I can do something for them…”
No wonder he looked swamped. The elder Gavin had been busy, in his decade-long career.
“That’s a heckuva lot of cases.” Gumshoe whistled.
Klavier sighed. “Ja, that it is. Well, it isn’t as though I have anything better to do with my time, between cases of my own.”
“What about your band?” Gumshoe wondered. “I’ll have you know, my wife’s a real fan of yours. A real fan!” Maggey had made the biggest eyes at him, when he’d told her about the young prosecutor. Gumshoe hadn’t even known about Klavier’s music career, till she mentioned it. Hard to keep up with pop hits, what with the car’s radio busted.
“Oh, is she?”
“She is! Hey, uh… mind if I bring you some of her stuff? For signing and such…”
“Of course.” The corners of Klavier’s eyes crinkled slightly. “But to answer your earlier question, I’m afraid there isn’t really a band anymore. Not with our second guitarist in prison. Surely, you understand.”
Right. That made sense. Heckuva way for him to put his foot in his mouth, on that one. “And you’re not thinking of going solo?” Kid had a pretty nice voice.
“Perhaps,” Klavier mused.
“You should meet Maggey. She’ll convince you real good. No two ways about it.”
“I’d like that,” Klavier said, eyes crinkling again.
“It’d be no trouble at all,” Gumshoe promised. “Just wait till I tell her! She’s gonna jump five feet in the air.”
***
Maggey did jump five feet in the air, when he told her. And then tripped on the rug and nearly fell, but he’d gotten good at catching her, and the kiss she’d planted on his lips was worth a dozen dashing saves. Actually, those were worth it all by themselves, but the kisses made it even better.
Klavier had insisted on bringing a bottle of wine to dinner with him, and then, he’d insisted on signing everything a giggling, slightly-tipsy Maggey had presented to him. Well, almost everything. He’d demured at the joking suggestion that he ‘sign Dick’s butt, because he’s my fancy merchandise.’
“Your husband’s a treasure,” Klavier had told her. “I don’t suggest selling him on eBay,” and Maggey had whuffed him upside the head, at the suggestion that she might be persuaded to part with any of her precious CDs.
Afterwards, she’d shooed them both into the kitchen to do the dishes, regardless of whether or not Klavier was her idol, and the idol in question didn’t so much as peep in protest. “It’s how we divide things up,” Gumshoe told him. “She’s the real good cook in the family, but she drops the plates, sometimes. And okay, I drop them sometimes, too, but who doesn’t?”
“Who doesn’t?” Klavier echoed. “I certainly do.”
Gumshoe laughed. “I bet you don’t have to do your own dishes very often.” Klavier looked a little awkward, at that.
“We had staff for that, when I was a child, and now, well… Now I’m out of practice. At least I can still load the dishwasher.” He changed the subject. “You have a good place here. It’s warm, and I don’t just mean the space heater. Though putting stickers on said space heater was a nice touch. It’s cute. Frau Maggey’s idea, was it?”
“Got it in one! Maggey’s the cutest there is,” Gumshoe told him, pride in his eyes. “The apartment’s not much, but it’s got her and me in it, and that’s all that matters.”
“I envy you, Herr Gumshoe,” the prosecutor said, elbow-deep in soap suds, and Gumshoe couldn’t bring himself to argue.
“Wouldn’t trade any of this for the world, pal,” he said. “But you’re welcome to come for dinner again, anytime. Just give me a heads-up a week ahead, or so. So we can make sure to have something good in the fridge.”
“I’ll bring dessert with me next time, how’s that?” Klavier suggested, and Gumshoe nodded.
“Maggey loves those little, what do you call ‘em, French thingies. Long, with cream in the middle, and a chocolate stripe on top?”
“Eclairs?”
“Yeah, those are the ones!”
“Eclairs it is, then.”
***
Klavier’s case review continued well into spring and summer. He flagged Gumshoe down, one evening, as the sun was beginning to set. “Could I trouble you for your input, Detective?”
Gumshoe’s eyebrows went up. “Sure thing. But just so you know, I’m not much of an expert on defense attorney stuff. Give me a good crime scene, and I’m golden. Well, silver. Well. A metal. Definitely a metal.”
“You’re platinum, as far as I’m concerned,” Klavier assured him. “And this should be right up your alley. It’s not one of Kristoph’s old cases. Rather, it’s one of Daryan’s.”
Gumshoe thought back to what kinds of cases Crescend would have been handling. “Might be a little out of my league, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“You’re a good, honest man, and you know the procedures of an investigation. That’s all I ask. I need someone who’ll tell me if any of Daryan’s actions, in his capacity as a detective, seem off, somehow. It’s no more my field than law is yours, and I would appreciate your perspective.”
“You know, it’s not your job to spot-check those bastards,” Gumshoe offered.
Klavier shook his head. “I may not be paid to do it, but if I don’t, then who will? And it may be, everything else they’ve done is aboveboard. It may be I’m a suspicious fool. But it beats the blithe fool I’ve been, all those years.
“Do you think I’m wasting my time?” Klavier asked, abruptly, shifting gears, almost too quick for Gumshoe to catch.
Gumshoe clapped him on the back. “When’d wanting to help people ever been a waste of time? And that’s why you do it, isn’t it? To help people!”
Klavier looked up at the ceiling, eyes hidden. “I must have made it sound so altruistic. But it isn’t as though I’m not doing it for myself. For my own clear conscience and peace of mind.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Honestly? I keep wondering if my conscience deserves to ever be clear. A little paranoia keeps you on your toes, and…” He was playing with his hair again. “And there’s a part of me that wonders what it says, about the sort of man I am, to have friends and family like that. What is it in me that draws them? Maybe I’m just like them.”
“Are they the only friends you’ve got?” Gumshoe puffed himself up. “That hurts, pal, it really does! And here I thought we were pals, you and I. And what about Justice, or Skye, or any of those other people? You don’t think of them as friends, either?”
Klavier held up his hands. “Wow, I sounded like an ass just then, didn’t I?”
Gumshoe laughed. “Maybe a little. If you’re like your friends, then maybe you’re like me. And I think I’m a pretty okay kind of guy.” It still left the question of family, but Gumshoe couldn’t help much, there. Not unless he turned out to be a long-lost Gavin, and somehow he really doubted that. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to be filthy rich, all of a sudden, but no way he’d trade his old Mom and Pop for some uptight German folks. Not that there was anything wrong with uptight German folks! Look at Ms. Von Karma and sort-of-Mr.-Edgeworth.
“A good man, as I said. And if you count me a friend, then I’m honored.”
It brought a tear to Gumshoe’s eye. It really did. “‘Course I count you! And you can count on me.”
***
By the time he finished going through those old cases, the weary lines around Klavier’s mouth had eased a little. More and more, Gumshoe saw him smiling and laughing. For real, all the way down to his belly. He’d pause in the middle of his work to put on some background music; to flirt with one of the secretaries or mail clerks. By the time July rolled around, he was leaving the office well before the security staff swapped over to night shift. Gumshoe saw him spending more and more time with Wright’s daughter and apprentice. Even Skye would join them, every so often, and he’d be a monkey’s uncle if her insults weren’t a lot less heated than Gumshoe remembered.
Klavier continued on as a dinner regular, once every couple of weeks. Maggey claimed she was going to teach him how to make brownies, though their last attempt had ended in a sneezing, cocoa-powdered prosecutor, and a dozen lumps that vaguely resembled brownies, maybe, if Gumshoe squinted.
It must have been about a year since that time with the vending machine, when Klavier caught him in the hallway and asked, “Have you had the chance to meet my newest colleague? Surely, you’ve at least heard of Herr Blackquill.” Surly fellow, Gumshoe thought, not that he could blame him. He was still kicking himself, for not having seen what was up with Fulbright. You thought you knew a guy...
He called Maggey up, later that day. “Sweetpea? Do you know what birds like to eat? No, not Maggey Byrdes, though if you want me to pick up something, I’m all ears, pal. No, big birds. Hawks and the like. Meat, huh? That’s easy enough. Oh, and would it be okay, if I brought an extra guy over for dinner, this week? He’s got the bird. Wouldn’t be nice, to just leave it out, right?” Blackquill looked like he could use half a dozen home-cooked meals in him, and maybe after a while, the bags under his eyes would start easing up, too.
For all his bumbling, Gumshoe has a happy go lucky, if often simplistic nature. This comes as a comfort to the various prosecutors in the Prosecutors' Office because, well, talking about it does help and Gumshoe would be the last person to blab or use anything they say against them.
Basically, I want Gumshoe being unknowingly comforting to the prosecutors around the office. Special focus of Simon and Klavier (considering what they went through) would be amazing and most appreciated!
I'm not sure how well I succeeded at the 'unknowingly' part, but hopefully I got something close enough to the prompt.
