BlackHeart Biohazards

Dinner and a Good Bottle of Wine (1717 words) by thesavagesabretooth
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Fluff, First Dates, Boss/Employee Relationship, Mentor/Protégé, Romance, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kristoph Gavin Has Feelings, POV Kristoph Gavin

Summary: Kristoph Gavin takes his protege Apollo Justice out to dinner to celebrate and relax after a trial, but he finds himself growing fonder of him than he knows is appropriate.

–

It was past 4:30 pm when court let out for the day, and Kristoph Gavin made his way out into the lobby, with Apollo Justice– his legal assistant and protege– following at his heels.

Kristoph carefully kept his shoulders squared and his chin up while they were still in public, but he couldn’t deny his weary exhaustion. He rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

“Quite the trial today, wouldn’t you say, Justice?”

“It was sure a long one, Mr. Gavin,” Apollo nodded. “But we won, right?”

“By the very skin of our teeth,” Kristoph agreed with a huffed breath that was almost a laugh. “Organized crime cases can be fun, but the judge always starts out against you. Tricky stuff. It often comes down to perception of character, and shadow of a doubt, as you saw at the end there.”

“It was impressive, sir,” Apollo nodded. “I thought for a while our goose was cooked. You sure turned it around, but–" 

Kristoph noticed him hesitate and cocked his head. "Go on?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You do seem a little worn out, sir.”

“Ah, you’ve seen right through me, Justice.” He shook his head, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. “Don’t tell anyone, will you? I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yes sir!” he nodded. “But if– if there’s anything I can do…”

Kristoph felt his cheeks heat at the suggestion from his eager protege. He was well aware of the young man’s crush on him, and, three months into their working relationship so far, had been very careful not to do anything in response to it that might be considered untoward. He did have a reputation to uphold after all, and he didn’t want it tainted by accusations of an inappropriate workplace relationship.

But Apollo, standing there with his big eyes and eager to please expression– more than that, with his strength and determination– was deeply, deeply difficult to resist.

And Kristoph was feeling tired.

“I suppose,” Kristoph said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t be averse to some company for dinner, if you were free.”

Kristoph dined alone most nights, with his brother long away on tour. Once a week of course he had his dinners with Wright, and those were entertaining in their own way. But he would never consider them truly relaxing.

Dinner with Justice, who was so eager to please and so full of life and intensity, that sounded like it could be relaxing. Provided he didn’t get so excited he passed out in his soup.

“I’d love to, sir!” Apollo agreed with his usual breathless intensity. Then he seemed to realize how loud he’d been, and bashfully rubbed his neck again, “I mean, if you think you’d like my company.”

“You’re a pleasure to have in the office, Justice. I’m sure you’ll be a pleasure to dine with.”

And a pleasure to take to bed. The thought snuck in unbidden. Desirable. But inappropriate. 

“Thank you, sir!” Apollo beamed brightly, seemingly delighted by the compliment. His smile lit up the room like the sun.

We’d probably look very dashing and handsome together in pictures. If only I could do something about his hair.

Kristoph shoved the thought away again.

“Come along then, Justice. I have no intention of lingering in these halls when dinner awaits.”

Without another word, he started toward the exit, with Apollo following behind him like an eager dog.

Kristoph found himself really looking forward to this dinner.

–

Halfway through dinner at his favorite restaurant– a lovely little Italian place with much better food than that horrible little hovel that Wright played at– Kristoph was already feeling much restored. Apollo, in addition to being a bright and eager assistant, was as he had suspected, a fascinating conversationalist, even if he tripped over his words sometimes.

“So you really spent the first part of your life in Khura’in? I did know you had been in the foster system, but I had no idea you were from another country.” Kristoph leaned over the table a little in fascination. “That’s off in the Himalayas, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir,” Apollo bobbed his head, his bangs flopping in his face as he smiled a nostalgic smile. “It’s not something I talk about a lot, but, well, it’s true. It’s where I was raised. It’s… really beautiful.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked. He could see the answer written all over Justice’s face. Of course he missed it. Kristoph didn’t have to be a master of reading people to know that– or to know that he felt abandoned, or even exiled, into this country. No wonder the boy was so eager to please.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. His nose and his smile crinkled as Kristoph ‘caught’ him. “I feel kind of out of place in LA still, even though I’ve been here most of my life now.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Justice,” Kristoph said, shaking his head. “Sometimes I do as well, and I’ve lived here my whole life. LA is a mysterious stranger, the femme fatale of an old movie.”

Apollo chuckled. “I suppose it is, sir.”

Kristoph leaned on his hand. “I notice you eying the bottle of wine, Justice– would you like me to pour you another glass?”

“Ah! Well, if you think it’s alright?" 

Apollo had already had two glasses of wine, and his usually rosy cheeks were even rosier. It was probably the only reason Kristoph had gotten anything about his past out of him at all. Usually Justice was as cagey about his history as Kristoph himself was.

"I don’t see why not. It’s not like you drive, is it?” Kristoph chuckled and happily poured them both another glass. “Do you like the bottle?”

Apollo raised his full glass, giving it a sniff and then a sip. A surprisingly refined gesture that tugged at Kristoph’s heartstrings.

“I don’t have a lot of opportunity to drink wine, sir,” he admitted between drinks, “So I don’t really have a very informed opinion. But… yes I really like it.”

“You’ll be pleased to note that it’s a good bottle then,” Kristoph smiled, raising his own glass in toast. “Maybe we ought to have one to celebrate successful cases more often.”

“Could we?” Apollo’s eyes lit up.

“I shall make it a plan,” he agreed.

–

After dinner, Kristoph called a cab for the both of them, and they rode on either side in the back of it, still chatting away. Apollo had finished the bottle of wine, and was by now quite talkative. He’d loosened his tie a bit, and undone the top button of his shirt, and Kristoph couldn’t help but find him quite handsome and charming.

It was exactly as he’d worried it would happen.

The cab turned suddenly down the final street to Apollo’s apartment, and the rather drunk young man fell across Kristoph’s shoulder.

“Whoops! Sorry, sir!”

Kristoph laughed it off, and tried not to show he was flustered. He tentatively– he really shouldn’t– he tentatively put a hand on Apollo’s shoulder.

“Easy there, Justice. But it’s alright.”

Their faces were quite close for a moment, and Kristoph’s heart beat a thump in his chest as he wondered for a moment if his protege was going to kiss him.

But Justice got flustered, and pulled back a little with an awkward grin. “I uh, had a really good time at dinner tonight, sir.”

“So did I, Mr. Justice.” Kristoph couldn’t take his eyes off him. He hadn’t taken his hand off him either.

The cab pulled up to the curb in front of a rather dreary apartment building.

“Well! Uh, this is my stop!” Apollo said breathlessly. He hadn’t moved.

“So it is,” Kristoph agreed. “Have a good night then.”

He took his hand away slowly.

Apollo nodded, his hair bobbing. “You too, sir. I uh, like I said, had a good time. I’m looking forward to uh—”

“Those future bottles of wine?” Kristoph teased. “You’ll need them if you don’t want to be a cheap drunk.”

He laughed and rubbed his neck. “Sorry, sir. But. Thanks. Um. Good night.”

“Good night, Justice. I’ll see you in the office in the morning.”

“I’ll see you then.”

The moment lingered for another heartbeat, and then Apollo got out of the cab.

Kirstoph watched him start to walk away– and his heart thumped again.

“Wait here, please,” he said to the cabbie, hefting himself out and onto the street. 

Kristoph hurried after the retreating young legal assistant.

“Mr. Justice!” he called, just as Apollo had stepped onto the first step up to his apartment.

Apollo turned, just as Kristoph caught up to him. The extra step of height brought Apollo just about to eye level with him.

“Sir?” he flushed, looking confused but hardly unhappy. “Uh, did I forget something?”

“No,” Kristoph shook his head. “But I did.”

His manners. His dignity. His reputation. He forgot them all in the face of handsome, bold, sincere, eager, lonely Apollo Justice.

Kristoph reached out and brushed Apollo’s cheek with trembling fingers.

“Justice, I–”

He didn’t get to finish what he had been about to say when Apollo threw his arms around his shoulders suddenly and dragged him into a kiss. Kristoph melted. The kiss was just like Apollo– sincere and eager, and lonely and bold, and a bit sloppy– and in this case tasting very much of wine.

Kristoph eagerly returned it.

When it broke, and they stared at one another breathlessly, blue and brown gazes interlocked, Kristoph suspected that he was just as flushed as his protege was.

“Sir, I– sorry– that was–”

Inappropriate. 

Oh well.

Kirstoph cupped his chin. “That was lovely, Justice. I hope that I can take you to dinner again soon. Maybe next time you won’t get quite so drunk, and I can invite you back to my home.”

Apollo turned absolutely scarlet, and the wattage of his smile could have drowned out the sun. “I’d really love that, sir.”

“So would I.” He stroked his fingers for a moment through Apollo’s hair. “Good night, Mr. Justice. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Kristoph strolled back to his cab, sure that Apollo Justice was watching him all the way, and he hummed pleasantly under his breath.

Who cared about ‘appropriate’, anyway?