A/N: Written for a Kink Meme request where someone asked to see Franziska/Klavier as parents. Someone made an offhand comment about their child having green hair, and well, this fic followed.
Katherina Gavin looked into the bathroom mirror and sobbed, her head in her hands. She'd just wanted to dye her boring blonde hair. Why had it turned green, of all the foolish colours in the rainbow?
Franziska Gavin was extremely annoyed with her foolishly foolhardy foolish teenage daughter, who had locked herself in the bathroom three hours previously. "Katherina Gavin, you will unlock the bathroom door. Now!" she shouted, lashing at the handle of the door with her whip for good measure.
At the sound of the whip slashing through the air, the sobs from the other side of the door grew louder. Jiggling the doorknob, Franziska asked angrily, "What could have gone so drastically wrong to cause you to cry so much? If you got less than ninety-seven percent on your last mathematics test, I will make sure you study harder for the next one!"
Sniffle, sniffle. "No, Mom, I know I only got ninety-seven point five, but it's got nothing to do with that."
Franziska sighed. "Then what is upsetting you so, if it is indeed not your dismal marks?"
There was a brief moment of silence; Franziska leaned against the door to hear that the sobs had subsided, for now. Then Katherina replied, "Aunt Trucy tells me I'm really smart."
Franziska rubbed her temples. Her daughter was such a fool. "Trucy Wright thinks she can make rabbits appear out of hats."
"She can! She says she'll teach me!"
This was getting absolutely nowhere. One of the only things that Franziska wasn't good at was consoling her teenage daughter when Katherina was in one of her moods. Klavier, however, always managed to somehow wipe Katherina's tears away with the barest of hugs and the most inappropriate of jokes, leaving the pair of them grinning at each other like foolish idiots.
Franziska, however, had no idea where her husband was right now. Why was he never around when she needed him the most?
Banging at the door with her shoulder, Franziska yelled, "Don't think that I am finished with you, Katherina Gavin!" She then took a few steps back from the door, took a deep calming breath, and walked to the other side of the house to use a different bathroom like she should have in the first place. The pressure on her bladder was nearly killing her.
After washing her hands, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and pressed the speed dial number for Klavier's cell.
"Achtung! I'm not here right now, but leave a message after the beep, ja?"
Franziska did not wait for the beep. Instead, she threw her cell down onto the floor in a fit of frustration, before picking it up again, blowing the dirt off the screen and dialling the number of someone she thought should know the whereabouts of her good-for-nothing husband: Detective Ema Skye.
"Detective Skye speaking. Who's calling?"
Franziska was in no mood for useless pleasantries. "Where is Klavier Gavin? Tell him to come home now!"
There was no response for a while, and Franziska almost thought that Detective Skye had the audacity to hang up on her, until she heard the faint sounds of chewing, then a swallow. "I'm not the fop's babysitter. How am I meant to know where he is?"
"You work with him, don't you?" Franziska said exasperatedly. "Is he still in court?"
MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH. "Prosecutor Gavin hasn't had a case in—" MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH. "—the past week." The connection went dead.
Franziska looked at her cell phone in shock. Firstly, Detective Ema Skye would be receiving a pay-cut in the near future. Ema Skye had to be one of the worst detectives Franziska had ever had the displeasure of dealing with; at least Scruffy had possessed enthusiasm. Secondly, if Klavier hadn't had a court case all week, then where had he been? On his off days he preferred to strum on his guitars in the lounge room, jumping on top of the sofas that Franziska tried to keep immaculately clean with his dirty boots. She yelled at him every time he did that in her presence, and she didn't remember doing it recently.
She rubbed her stomach with the hand that wasn't holding the whip; the further along she was in her second pregnancy, her work load dwindled. Now she was stuck at home most days, struck with the most inane of cravings at the most horrible hours, and had to somehow convince Katherina to come out of the bathroom without her husband's assistance.
"Katherina Gavin! Out! Now!"
"No!" her daughter yelled back. "Not until Dad gets home!"
Franziska nearly growled. "I don't know where he is!"
A mocking gasp came from the other side of the door. "What's this, Mom? You don't know something? Really?"
Franziska felt her hands curl into fists. "I'll find him, then."
"Without knowing where he is?"
"I'm sure there's not too many places that he goes."
"Well it's your lucky day, Mom!" Katherina said, her voice full of false brightness. "I know where Dad is."
Franziska resisted the temptation to bang her head against the wall. Her Papa used to do it when he was extremely angry, but she would not give in completely. Not yet. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't ask. But he's having lunch with the Wrights today."
All right. That gave her a lead. "Thank you, Katherina Gavin, for finally deciding to be somewhat helpful." Franziska wiped at her forehead with one gloved hand, and left her house to go the Wright Anything Agency.
Her house wasn't far from the office of the most foolishly foolish family who had ever walked the face of this foolishly foolish planet, and within moments she found herself banging on the front door of the agency, screaming, "Let me in, Phoenix Wright!"
The door miraculously opened, but not by Phoenix. "Hi, and welcome to the Wright Anything Agency!" a bouncy Trucy said, almost hopping on the balls of her feet. "What's your talent?"
Franziska's lips thinned as she held her whip high above her head. "Whipping," she said, as her whip swished through the air and hit Trucy on the shoulder.
"Daddy!" Trucy shouted as she turned around. "Prosecutor Gavin's angry and wants to whip you!"
"Trucy, honey? Klavier doesn't whip people; he tends to accidentally hit them upside the head with his air guitar instead. And besides Klavier just—"
"No," Trucy said with a shake of her head, interrupting her father mid-sentence. "I mean the other Prosecutor Gavin."
"Oh." Franziska heard Phoenix's surprised voice coming from the kitchen. "Let her in, Trucy."
Trucy nodded her head. "Follow me, Prosecutor Gavin."
Franziska didn't want to go into the office; she just wanted her husband home now to extract her foolish daughter from the bathroom. But it seemed as she had little choice in the matter, as Klavier didn't come running to the door as she would expect him to if he was actually in the agency.
"Hello, Franziska, it's wonderful to see you again," Phoenix Wright greeted her, his lips pressed to the rim of a tea cup.
"I wish I could say the same to you, Phoenix Wright," Franziska sighed, "but that would be a lie."
Phoenix shrugged. Years ago, she would have expected a smirk or a roll of the eyes, but now it seemed that Phoenix's face no longer responded to the amusing thoughts he had in his head.
Then she looked at the other people sitting at the table. Trucy had returned to her seat between her father and the defense attorney with the horns whose name Franziska could never remember. Next to the horned defense attorney was Miles Edgeworth, who had returned to the country a few years ago to become a part of the one big happy Wright family, also drinking a cup of tea.
"I just want to know where Klavier Gavin is. His phone is off, Detective Skye has told me that he hasn't been working all week, and now I find out that instead of helping me with his foolishly foolish daughter at home, he is having regular luncheons with you…people."
Phoenix stared blankly at her, Trucy bit her lip, Apollo looked down at the table, and Miles raised an eyebrow.
"I hope he brings Chinese," Trucy said.
Aha! Another clue! "So, he's out buying food, is he?"
Miles nodded as he tugged on the edge of his cravat. "Yes, he should be returning any moment now."
As soon as Miles said that, there was a loud knock on the door. The four people sitting around the tattered kitchen table looked at each other. Then they looked at Franziska. Franziska knew she must look particularly murderous with her eyebrows slanted, smirk on her face and her whip raised in the air, but she didn't care if the Wrights-and-others were afraid of her. She hoped Klavier would be afraid. Very afraid.
She opened the door to find a relieved look Klavier standing there. "You wanted bagels, ja?" he asked, dropping a large brown paper bag at Franziska's feet. Then, he froze mid-action and slowly started to look up, into Franziska's eyes. "Franzi! How odd it is to see you here! I didn't know that you were meeting up with the Wrights for lunch."
"I'm not," Franziska said through gritted teeth. "I didn't know that you were, Klavier Gavin."
"About that…" he started, scuffing the top of his shoe with the doormat, but Franziska interrupted him.
"By the way, my name is Franziska."
Klavier laughed. "You tell me that all the time."
"Maybe you should try remembering then." Klavier looked almost ready for the whipping he deserved.
Klavier didn't know why his wife was at the Wright Anything Agency, and judging by the murderous look on her face, he didn't really want to know. He barely had time to say goodbye to Mr. Wright, Fraulein Trucy, Herr Forehead and Mr Edgeworth before he was being dragged down the street by an irate Franziska.
"…most irresponsible man…"
He hadn't been shirking responsibility or anything, after all, the Prosecutor's Office had been quiet lately, and the Gavinners had no upcoming tours. Was he really not meant to go visit some old friends and have lunch with them? Did he need Franziska's approval for everything? He didn't feel like telling her that the reason that he hadn't invited her too was because Herr Forehead was afraid of her.
"Just like Katherina…foolishly foolish fool who foolishly locks herself into foolishly foolishly located bathrooms…"
"What about Kat?" Klavier asked, knowing that their daughter had been going through some troubling times at school; something about never being as perfect as her mother, or not being what her parents expected of her.
"You would know," Franziska said icily, "if you actually tried being home once in a while! I'm pregnant; I'm supposed to be resting, but instead I'm running around the city trying to find you!"
"Why me?" Klavier asked, deciding not to point out that the Wrights barely lived a mile away.
Franziska sighed. "She says she'll only come out of the bathroom once you're home."
"Well, we can't leave her in there all day, ja?"
They reached the house soon enough and after Franziska banged on the door repeatedly until Klavier calmly gave her a key, they both trudged up the stairs to the bathroom that Katherina was still occupying.
"Kat?" he asked softly, and he saw Franziska frown. Hopefully she was taking mental notes on how actually being nice worked better in these situations than letting the whip do the talking.
"Daddy?" Kat answered. "It's…it's horrible. I…don't want Mom to see."
Franziska raised an eyebrow, and Klavier attempted to lay a calming hand on her arm, which was quickly shaken off. "I'll make sure she plays nice, Kitty-Kat. Now come out and show Daddy's what's wrong."
"All right," Kat sighed, "if I must." He heard her walk up to the door, and it swung open. Apart from the tears drying on her face, there didn't seem to be anything wrong.
"Why," Franziska asked bluntly, "is your hair green, Katherina Gavin?"
Kat froze, and Klavier rubbed her hand soothingly. "I just wanted to be like you, Mom," Kat admitted. "Smart like you, perfect like you, pretty like you…so…so I tried to dye my hair the same shade of blue as yours."
"Clearly," Franziska said, her arms crossed over her stomach, "that was a very foolish idea."
Klavier rubbed Kat's hand soothingly. "Don't worry," he told his daughter, "I think it looks great on you. Everyone these days has pink or blue hair, and this way, you'll stand out, ja? I've seen stranger hair colours before."
"Mom's just jealous that she couldn't ever attain the same colour shade of hair as you."
"What?" Kat asked as her mother's mouth dropped open.
"Don't you dare, Klavier Gavin!" she shouted, but Klavier was ignoring her and had already crossed to the other side of the room to search through a cupboard drawer.
"Didn't you know you were hiding it in here all this time, Franzi," Klavier said with a grin, as he pulled out a photo frame and handed it to Kat. "This is the first time I met your mother."
Kat gasped as she saw the photo encased inside. "Wow, Mom!" she exclaimed. "You're wearing normal clothes! Jeans and stuff! No frills!"
"Ach," Klavier said, "there's nothing wrong with frills, Kitty-Kat. You know what they say—no frills—"
"—no thrills," Kat finished for him, and they both laughed.
After their laughter had subsided, Klavier pointed out, "The most interesting thing, though, which I'm sure you've already noticed, Kat, but are just too afraid to point out…is that Mom's hair is the most interesting shade of puke green."
Franziska's face coloured, and she snatched the photo frame out of her daughter's hands. Then, in an uncharacteristically dreamy manner, she clutched it to her chest and breathed in deeply. "It was my first Gavinners' concert. I was twenty-five. I didn't want anyone to recognize me. I was too embarrassed to admit that I liked that sort of music. I even tried to dye my hair a different colour for the occasion, but it turned out like that." Her hand pointed shakily to the disgusting shade of green she was sporting in the photo. "I was mortified, but I didn't want to waste the money I had already spent on the tickets, so I went anyway, knowing that anyone I knew would definitely not recognize me."
"Then," Klavier said with a smile, "the concert ended and I was pushing my way through a crowd, fangirls screaming out my name. Some of them had bright pink hair, some had bright blue, some were purple, and some were fire-engine red. Then I notice this beautiful woman standing alone with the most interesting shade of hair I'd seen all night. I thought to myself, 'That takes guts, ja?'"
"So, the moral of the story," Kat said with a frown, "is that dying your hair an odd colour means you'll have a rockstar boyfriend?"
"You know what, Katherina Gavin?" Franziska interjected. "I think you are reading too much into this."
"You probably are, Kitty-Kat," Klavier agreed, ruffling Katherina's pale green hair as he did so. "Now that I think about it, there's a whole album full of photos of your mother at our concerts."
Franziska nodded. "I know where it is. It is…it is very important to me."
Mother, father and daughter sat together on the sofa, flicking through the old photo album. There were chuckles, gasps, and much rolling of the eyes.
Franziska Gavin had forgotten that she had been angry with her husband, and rubbing her stomach once more, reminded herself that one of the first things she was going to tell this unborn child once it was old enough to understand, was to under no circumstances even think about using hair dye.
Klavier Gavin looked at his wife's face, and even though it still seemed tense, he could tell she was trying her utmost not to smile. Looking at these photos, he remembered why he had fallen in love with her in the first place.
Katherina Gavin decided that green wasn't such a foolish hair colour after all.