You know, the title of this oneshot has nothing to do with the actual plot, which is a pity. But it was too good to pass up, seeing as consumnate optimists are said to view the world through 'rose tinted glasses' and Ema's scientific investigator(!) goggles are pink. Eheh.
Written as a birthday present for reno_sunnyd on livejournal, who has an account here but I'm too lazy to go look it up. Her birthday was actually November 20, so this is about two or three weeks late. She understands, though! (I hope.)
Sure, they insult each other's work ethic, eating habits, and fashion sense. But Klavier has come to realize maybe he should start making an effort to get along with that infuriating Fräulein, Ema Skye. After all, they are on the same team. [mild Klema, post Apollo Justice]
The smell of flowers permeated the hall outside the prosecutor's office, so even before she entered, Ema Skye had a vague idea of what she was getting into. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the room as she kicked open the door, her hands full with a stack of files, and stepped inside.
Flowers were everywhere - bouquets and even brightly colored gift baskets adorned every flat surface, their perfume filling the air in such strength that it was almost nauseating. She was nearly blinded by pink, and for someone who often donned a pair of rose tinted goggles, that was saying something.
In fact, the room was so cluttered with various types of vegetation that she didn't even notice Klavier until he spoke.
"Good morning, Fräulein Detective," he said politely, silkily combed blonde head peeking over a horrendously tacky vase. "I didn't expect to see you so early."
The thinly veiled insult barely registered. "W-What are all these flowers doing here?" Ema asked, rubbing at her eyes in case it was all some kind of strange mirage. When she blinked and opened them again, the blossoms were still there.
"Ah, these?" Klavier gestured languidly at the myriad bouquets. "From the fans. It's been a year since we dissolved the band and they're treating it as some kind of memorial holiday." He massaged the bridge of his nose.
She blinked again. "And your office...?"
"They were all at the receptionist's desk when I arrived." He smiled and made an expansive gesture at the flowers. "Took five trips to bring them all in."
Despite herself, Ema was almost slightly impressed. She didn't show it, though, instead giving the gifts a disparaging look. "Like someone died," she observed.
Klavier tsked. "To the fans, it is almost like someone did die," he said sadly.
"Well, Daryan -"
"That," the blonde prosecutor said, cutting her short, "is neither here nor there. Now, Fräulein, I believe those case files are for me. Ja?" He stood from that stupid leather massage chair of his, and stretched out a hand.
Ema held the stack of manila folders out of his reach, so that he would have to jump over several plastic-wrapped bouquets to get them. "Why are you even still a lawyer?" she asked sharply. "Surely a glimmerous fop like you prefers rocking a stage rather than a courthouse." The comment came out sounding almost like a compliment and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, embarrassed.
Sighing, the prosecutor eyed the case files with a look of resignation. "I became a lawyer, and intend to remain a lawyer, because of my burning desire for justice. Now -"
The stack of folders crashed to the floor, spilling papers everywhere. "Apollo?!"
Klavier stared for a moment, then smacked a hand to his head. "No, not Herr Forehead," he replied, then recovered himself and winked. "I much prefer the Fräuleins." Before Ema could reply, or even think of a retort, he added, "I meant justice, as in the principle. Seeing that justice has been done." There was a pause, and Ema stifled a snicker. "The ideal of justice, that is," he amended swiftly, face red.
The blonde was unable - or perhaps unwilling - to hide his eye roll. "Please, Fräulein Detective. The papers." Bending down, he began gathering them in an untidy stack.
Somewhat reluctantly, Ema squatted to help. She found herself suddenly looking into Klavier's dark eyes, seemingly inches away from her own. Giving a stifled squeak, she sat down hard.
"Why so jumpy, Fräulein?" the prosecutor asked, chuckling.
"I'm not jumpy," she snapped. As soon as she regained her balance, she began gathering and stacking papers with a vengeance.
She was so absorbed in her task that it took her a while to realize that Klavier had stopped working. When she looked up again to give him a piece of her mind, she found him staring at her once more. "What?" she asked, annoyed.
"I was just wondering," Klavier said with a considering look on his face, "why you seem to harbor such animosity towards me." He was calm, cool, handsome -
"First, it's that stupid purple suit," Ema said, looking at his jacket and grimacing. "It makes you look like a German pimp. And you have stupid feminine hair. My girl friends would kill to have shiny blonde hair like that. And you act like a rock star even when you're not any more and you make a mockery of law enforcement." She paused. "And I just don't like you."
"Fräulein De- Skye, I still don't understand. Girls love my hair, and not just because they envy it. And I do not 'make a mockery of law enforcement' - I work with the police and try my best in court to -"
Ema cut him off with a snort. "Compared to Edgeworth? Even Mr. Wright? You're nothing." Abruptly, she looked down and concentrated on straightening the papers in her hands. She knew her face was probably red with anger and embarrassment - she hadn't meant to say that much.
There was a pause. "You know," Klavier said after a while. "My reputation in court rivals -"
"Save it," Ema snapped, standing and shoving the neatly stacked papers at his face. "If you want flattery, go talk to one of your fans." She turned to leave.
Before she could reach the door (the path to which was impeded by several gigantic gift baskets), the prosecutor stepped in front of her, holding a bouquet he had apparently picked up from his disgustingly modern-looking desk. With her finely honed investigative senses, Ema noticed that it contained a dozen red roses mixed with sprigs of Queen Anne's lace. "Won't you take some flowers, Fräulein?" he asked sweetly.
She shoved past him. "You know, by giving that to me, you're breaking some young girl's heart with that."
"You're breaking mine, Fräulein." His tone was wry and he raised an amused eyebrow as she glared.
Ema gave him a withering look. "Glimmerous fop." With that, she shoved past him and out the door.
Night had fallen and the crime scene was illuminated with multiple spotlights, highlighting the muddy ground with patches of bright light that gave way abruptly to deep shadows and cast an eerie glow on the white outline of the body, splayed out on the riverbank.
Ema ran a hand through already disheveled hair, tossing a couple more Snackoos into her mouth and washing them down with a swig of coffee. She had gone through three packages already and was showing no sign of slowing down.
"Fräulein Detective," a voice said behind her.
She started wildly and whirled around. "You!"
"Yes, me. I suggest you take it easy on those snacks of yours," he advised. "I hear they're quite high in calories."
Glaring darkly, she shoved her hand back into the plastic bag, taking out another crisp chocolate cracker with slow deliberation. "Are you calling me fat?" she asked, her voice lowered dangerously.
"Er, no," Klavier said, hastily trying to recover from his faux pas. "I never said anything of the -"
"Fräulein, that was highly unnecessary," the prosecutor remonstrated, rubbing the red mark on his chin where the Snackoo had connected. "Really. I was just looking out for your health. You should try eating salad instead. Or celery, if you want the crunch, ja?"
In blatant disregard for his advice, she grabbed a handful of Snackoos and shoved them in her mouth all at once. "Now," Ema said, munching away, "here's the new information we've collected." She shoved a stack of papers at him, and then pointed to the plastic bagged evidence littering the table. "And the evidence."
Klavier glanced at the rickety table, and then back up at Ema. "I hope these aren't Snackoo crumbs I see all over the evidence."
Chucking one last Snackoo at him (ka-tonk), the offended detective grabbed the bag of snacks and turned on her heel. "I'll be off now. It's time for dinner. Or breakfast."
"Wait! Fräulein Skye!"
She whirled around. "What? Insulting me about my weight again?"
The blonde prosecutor chuckled and strummed a few chords on an imaginary guitar. "No, actually," he said. "I was actually going to suggest we look over this together."
"Why?" Ema asked, bitingly sarcastic. "So you can make me file a report about Snackoo crumbs?" She lifted a cookie.
Eyeing the snack warily, Klavier shook his head. "No, not that. I was just thinking that the head detective on a crime scene should communicate more with the chosen prosecutor. Instead of" - and here his eyes narrowed slightly - "giving most of the relevant evidence to the defense."
Ema blinked, then glared. "Only because the defense is a better attorney than you'll ever be."
"Or," Klavier retorted, his eye twitching slightly, "because you both share the same bizarre taste in fashion."
"What? How does that even -"
A pained sigh. "Really. Wearing pants that are as short as your lab coat? Dark brown with an olive green vest and a pink - yes, pink - scarf and shirt? Earth tones would be fine, spring colors would be fine, but not a combination of the two. And those shoes? I correct myself: Herr Forehead shows better taste with his blindingly red suit and overly spiked hair."
"Wha- You -" Ema spluttered for words. "You pompous, glimmerous fop! Who are you to tell me how to dress? Purple velvet suit jacket and a black shirt that shows more of your chest than anyone wants to see? And that necklace - does it weigh you down so your big inflated head won't lift you off the ground?" Stepping closer, she pointed her finger in her face. "For your information, self-styled rock god, my fashion sense is perfectly fine. Better than yours!"
"Fräulein..." Klavier sounded hurt. "My clothes are imported directly from Germany. Very expensive. Designer, ja."
Still glaring, Ema turned her back. "Designer labels don't change bad taste," she growled.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Klavier open his mouth to reply and then shut it, shaking his head. "Fräulein, er, Skye..."
"Don't talk to me, I hate you." She turned to leave.
She turned back in surprise to find Klavier looking oddly sheepish. "...Huh?"
"Er..." The prosecutor looked even more embarrassed now. He refused to meet her eyes as he muttered, "I'm sorry..."
"Huh?" Ema was so shocked by his sudden words that she froze with a Snackoo halfway to her mouth. "You? Klavier Gavin, 'rock star extraordinaire', 'prosecutor to end all prosecutors', sorry?"
"It happens, all right?" the prosecutor said sharply before shaking his head. "Er. I mean, yes. I am sorry." He raised his voice slightly to talk over Ema's disbelieving question. "Look. Earlier today, I happened to meet with Herr For- I mean, Apollo, and he suggested, um, talking with you. Because the prosecution needs to at least have a decent relationship with the police department and you seem to be the detective that's always assigned to my cases and it's no good if neither of us can get along..." He paused. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"Yeah, you are," the detective replied automatically as she took a moment to digest his words. "Maybe I'd get along with you better if you weren't such an asshole," she said finally.
Klavier gave a smug smile. "Well, that comes with the territory, dear Fräulein," he replied. "After all -"
"See? You're always exactly like that. I don't understand what girls see in you." She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I have so many problems with you, I don't know where to begin."
The blonde prosecutor raised an ironic eyebrow. "Perhaps I should dye my hair white and start wearing a cravat," he suggested, chuckling a little at his own joke.
"Yes," Ema said, brightening, then realizing what she had said and looking flustered. "I mean, no! I mean -"
"Oh, that reminds me!" Klavier exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Wait right there, Fräulein; I'll be back in a moment."
"O-kay..." the detective replied, blinking and slightly stunned by the sudden change of topic. Glancing at the evidence table, she sighed. "Might as well get all these crumbs off..." Klavier's apology did make her feel slightly bad about her treatment of him. But, to be fair, he was nothing but a pretty face. Even if he was a star prosecutor. ...Fine, so maybe he was attractive and smart, but that didn't make his personality bearable. Really.
In a few minutes Klavier returned, bearing something behind his back and a sickly sweet smile. "Herr Forehead also suggested this."
"What?" Ema asked, eyeing him warily.
"Here," the prosecutor said, holding out a long-stemmed flower with a flourish - practically the same way he declared an objection in court, Ema noted wryly. "Take a rose." Even in the dim, misty illumination from the temporary spotlights, she could see that it was a beautiful blossom, colored a delicate pink that paled to white at the tips of its petals.
The detective took a step back. "No way," she replied. "I told you this morning. I'm not getting mauled by some poor fangirl who paid good money to send you that flower as a token of her love."
"Nein, Fräulein," Klavier said, stepping closer and tucking the rose into the half-empty bag of Snackoos she held in her hands. "Didn't I say? I bought this one myself."
The end. Ch'yeah. I suppose this isn't a good time to mention that I don't usually write het and this is only the second het story I've written, is it? Oops, too late. Well, anyway, if you liked this one you'll probably be happy to hear that I think I'll be hanging around this fandom for a while. Just - not for this pairing.
Sorry, of course I don't mean to offend anyone. This is a very legitimate pairing. Practically canon, yup yup. Anyway, reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored, and I hope Klavier wasn't too out of character.