[fic] Just In Case
Nov. 12th, 2008 05:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kiyala.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shannys_cornerTitle: Just In Case
Original Thread: here
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiyala
Word Count: 1825
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Pairing: Daryan Crescend / Klavier Gavin
Rating: R
Warnings: gay men, hints of sex, swearing
Disclaimer: CAPCOM own Ace Attorney
Prompt: e've had a couple of fics exploring how it might be after the end of 4-3. I want a before fic. Specifically, I want to see something about the night before Daryan is shown to be the murderer.
Give me an insight into Daryan's feelings. Is he berating himself over the unexpected turn of events and accidental murder? Is he smugly confident that there would be no way to convict him? Or is there a part of him beneath the cool confidence that is absolutely terrified of What May Happen if somehow he was found out? Is he worried about What May Happen if Klavier found out?
Klavier passionately expresses his belief in Daryan in the courtroom on the last day of the trial. I believe his feelings are genuine. If he had expressed similar emotion to Daryan the night before, how does Daryan feel? How does he react?
There's also the promise Klavier made Daryan that he wouldn't be on the witness stand, if you can work that in.
tl;dr, I want a fic seriously handling Daryan's feelings in the middle of 4-3, and some Daryan x Klavier the night before the last day of the trial.
Once should have been enough, but it clearly wasn’t.
It was like a trap, drawing him in, bringing him down and keeping him there against his will. The more he struggled, the stronger its grip became.
As if shooting LeTouse wasn’t bad enough. Now he’d gone and tried to kill Lamiroir too.
What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t who he was. No one was supposed to be hurt. The precautions he’d taken were precisely that. Precautions. Back-up plans to cover the what-if scenarios that would never actually happen.
For fuck’s sake. Klavier’s guitar was never meant to burn.
Daryan shut his eyes tightly, hitting himself in the head with frustration as he remembered the pained look in those blue eyes after the song had ended and the fire had been put out.
“Is this some kind of cruel joke?” Klavier asked, his face looking angry but his voice sounding sad. “Someone is trying to ruin this day for me, I just know it. It can’t all be a coincidence. Ach, Daryan, why would anyone want to destroy such a beautiful instrument?”
To resort to all of this, just to make sure he wasn’t caught. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His crimes flashed in front of his eyes, theft-vandalism-murder-attempted murder and the guilt made him sick to his stomach.
I’m turning into a monster. A fucking monster.
He deserved to be caught, thrown into prison, never let out again. He deserved the looks of disgust that the criminals down at the precinct always received from the police that had to deal with them. He didn’t deserve to get away with this. (Fuck, what if I do it again?) But he couldn’t bear the thought of Klavier finding out. To have Klavier know that he was behind it – behind the missing keys, the burnt guitar, the dead manager-slash-agent and now, Lamiroir’s injury. To have Klavier find out and hate him for it would be worse than everything else he deserved.
Which was why he couldn’t be caught. Which was why he’d tried silencing Lamiroir. Which was why he was sitting on the edge of his couch, foot tapping nervously as he tried to think of what else he could do. He hadn’t slipped up anywhere so far, right? He hadn’t left behind any evidence that could be linked to him. No evidence, no guilty verdict. He knew the court system well enough to know that. He’d hated it, when he knew he’d found a criminal and couldn’t fucking prove they’d done anything because there was no evidence. Now, he was relying on it.
Funny how he could fuck himself over so easily.
Getting to his feet, he grabbed his keys and pocketed them. He needed a walk. Preferably a long one, avoiding as much human contact as possible. It was seven o’clock and dark enough outside that there wouldn’t be any kids left in the park. There was a big stretch of land, not far from his place. It had a playground on one end and the rest was left as it was, trees here and there, hills that went up, down and then up again. It was far enough from any roads that Daryan could feel like he was alone. He’d taken Klavier there a few times, just to lie outside under the stars in the fresh air and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, it was better than staying at home. It wasn’t as fun being there by himself, but it was better than nothing. It gave him a new place to sit and feel disgusted with himself.
He’d seen it when he’d spoken to that short-ass attorney with the big forehead. Something Justice. Pfft. He’d seen the suspicion in the guy’s eyes; the way he followed Daryan’s every move, the slight wrinkle in his brow as the cogs turned in his head at a million miles per second, trying to break down and analyse every fucking breath that Daryan took.
Fuck it. He didn’t care what the kid thought of him. He was Daryan fucking Crescend and people’s opinions didn’t matter to him. Not unless they came from people called Klavier Gavin.
Another wave of dread rolled over him and Daryan groaned out loud, the calm-and-collected mask he wore disappearing for a moment as he buried his face in his hands and waited for the nausea to pass. Klavier couldn’t find out. Screw whatever else happened, Klavier could. not. find. out. That was all that mattered.
He wandered back to his house about half an hour later, to find the lights turned on inside and Klavier’s car in his driveway.
“Daryan,” he was greeted with the worried voice of his friend-band mate-best friend ever-sometimes work partner-lover. “Sorry. I had to see you, so I used my spare key to let myself in until you returned. You didn’t take your phone with you.”
“It’s all good,” Daryan replied quietly. “That’s what a spare key’s for, right?”
Klavier reached for him. Daryan took the hand and let the prosecutor pull him down onto the couch where they leaned against each other. Klavier looked almost as bad as Daryan felt, which caused another jolt of guilt and self-loathing.
They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say, until Klavier took a breath.
“I know you didn’t do it. I… you… it doesn’t even make sense. No matter what Lamiroir says. Regardless of what Herr Justice presents in court. I believe in you the way I believe in myself, Daryan.”
Daryan’s shoulders slumped but Klavier didn’t notice, pressing his lips to the detective’s.
“I’m sorry for taking you off the case. It wasn’t my call to make. I assure you that the higher-ups received an earful from me. Once this is all over, we can go up together and truly give them a piece of our mind, ja?”
Daryan laughed, feeling his chest constrict. He kissed Klavier hard. “Thanks.”
Klavier’s hands came up to hold the sides of Daryan’s head and the kiss was returned gently. Lips pressing softly together, one tongue coaxing the other out, eyes shut and hands gripping tightly onto clothes. They broke for air and Klavier shifted so that he was straddling Daryan.
“Klavier…” the detective murmured, tilting his head back to allow better access to his neck as Klavier kissed and nibbled on it. “…We got rules about this, right? No fucking when we’ve got cases?”
“This is different,” Klavier said, his lips against the join between Daryan’s neck and shoulders. “You’re being wrongly accused of something. I’ve been sick with worry all day, wondering what the hell I’ll do if Herr Justice and Lamiroir manage to trick the court into believing it was you. Wondering if you hate me for keeping you from investigating. Wondering if…”
“…If I really did it?” Daryan asked quietly.
“No. I know better than that. …Wondering if someone is trying to frame you.”
“Well, if they are, they’re doing a shitty job of it. They’d have to try harder if they want to convince the prosecutor to point the finger at his best friend, right?”
“Right.”
They kissed again and a stray thought entered Daryan’s mind, telling him that this would be his last time alone with Klavier if he was found guilty. His grip on Klavier tightened and the prosecutor gave him a worried look.
“…I’ve had a shitty day,” he murmured by the way of an explanation, burying his face against Klavier’s neck.
“It’ll be better tomorrow,” the prosecutor murmured, running his hands through Daryan’s hair. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, the pressure will be off you and everything will be fine. Just like I promised before, you won’t be called up to the witness stand any more. Checking the Interpol number was enough.”
“Ugh. I betcha, the minute I open my mouth again, that siren’s gonna be pointing the finger at me again. She ain’t got no proof.”
“Indeed she doesn’t,” Klavier replied, his fingers trailing over the sides of Daryan’s neck and down his chest as far as they could before clothing stopped them.
Daryan sat up, holding Klavier’s sides and pulling him closer. Their bodies were warm against each other, mouths even warmer. Daryan took the time to relish Klavier’s kiss, memorising the taste, the feeling. (Just in case.)
Klavier rocked his hips slowly, drawing a quiet moan from Daryan at the friction. He rocked back, his hands sliding down Klavier’s sides to settle on his ass. Klavier arched, tightening his grip on Daryan’s shoulders as the detective bit into his neck.
“Scheisse, Daryan.” It took a moment for Klavier’s head to clear and then he laughed quietly. “And just a while ago, you were reminding me of our rule…”
“Well, you seemed happy enough to break it,” Daryan replied. “And if you are, I am.”
Klavier ran his thumb across Daryan’s lips with a sad look in his eyes. “You must want this as much as I do. Your day must have been terrible.”
“Don’t need your sympathy, Gavin,” the detective grumbled, knowing he didn’t deserve it.
“Ah, of course,” Klavier replied. “Just the same way I don’t need you to tell me everything’s going to be fine in the end.”
Daryan kept the grin on his face, fighting off the despair that accompanied the thought that only one of them could truly give the other what they needed. (And it ain’t me.) His grip on Klavier tightened and the prosecutor pressed their lips together gently before speaking.
“We should move to the bed, ja?”
They took the same path to Daryan’s bed that they always did, groping for each other along the way. Daryan pushed Klavier down onto the bed, crawled onto him, kissed him senseless. It was almost routine, but Daryan was intent on preserving every single detail in his memory. (Just in case. Just in case.)
Fucking Klavier was pleasure, pain, desperation and neediness all combined into the one sensation, the one moment. The afterglow was the only thing that would subdue Daryan to the point where he would tolerate outright cuddling on Klavier’s part.
Loathe as he was to admit it, he knew that he needed it at that point.
“It’ll be over soon,” Klavier murmured into his neck. “Everything will be fine.”
“There ain’t a judge in the legal system who’ll declare me guilty of murder,” Daryan whispered, his eyes fixed of invisible patterns on his ceiling.
When he had to face Klavier again, the thick barrier of bullet-proof glass between them and charges of illegal smuggling in the air, Daryan was silent for a moment.
“Well. It wasn’t a lie.”
There had been no conclusive evidence. The loophole in the system that he’d hated had saved him from death row.
It hadn’t protected him from the look of betrayal and disgust in Klavier’s eyes. But at least he still had the memories he’d saved.
Just in case.
x
Original Thread: here
Author:
kiyalaWord Count: 1825
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Pairing: Daryan Crescend / Klavier Gavin
Rating: R
Warnings: gay men, hints of sex, swearing
Disclaimer: CAPCOM own Ace Attorney
Prompt: e've had a couple of fics exploring how it might be after the end of 4-3. I want a before fic. Specifically, I want to see something about the night before Daryan is shown to be the murderer.
Give me an insight into Daryan's feelings. Is he berating himself over the unexpected turn of events and accidental murder? Is he smugly confident that there would be no way to convict him? Or is there a part of him beneath the cool confidence that is absolutely terrified of What May Happen if somehow he was found out? Is he worried about What May Happen if Klavier found out?
Klavier passionately expresses his belief in Daryan in the courtroom on the last day of the trial. I believe his feelings are genuine. If he had expressed similar emotion to Daryan the night before, how does Daryan feel? How does he react?
There's also the promise Klavier made Daryan that he wouldn't be on the witness stand, if you can work that in.
tl;dr, I want a fic seriously handling Daryan's feelings in the middle of 4-3, and some Daryan x Klavier the night before the last day of the trial.
Once should have been enough, but it clearly wasn’t.
It was like a trap, drawing him in, bringing him down and keeping him there against his will. The more he struggled, the stronger its grip became.
As if shooting LeTouse wasn’t bad enough. Now he’d gone and tried to kill Lamiroir too.
What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t who he was. No one was supposed to be hurt. The precautions he’d taken were precisely that. Precautions. Back-up plans to cover the what-if scenarios that would never actually happen.
For fuck’s sake. Klavier’s guitar was never meant to burn.
Daryan shut his eyes tightly, hitting himself in the head with frustration as he remembered the pained look in those blue eyes after the song had ended and the fire had been put out.
“Is this some kind of cruel joke?” Klavier asked, his face looking angry but his voice sounding sad. “Someone is trying to ruin this day for me, I just know it. It can’t all be a coincidence. Ach, Daryan, why would anyone want to destroy such a beautiful instrument?”
To resort to all of this, just to make sure he wasn’t caught. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His crimes flashed in front of his eyes, theft-vandalism-murder-attempted murder and the guilt made him sick to his stomach.
I’m turning into a monster. A fucking monster.
He deserved to be caught, thrown into prison, never let out again. He deserved the looks of disgust that the criminals down at the precinct always received from the police that had to deal with them. He didn’t deserve to get away with this. (Fuck, what if I do it again?) But he couldn’t bear the thought of Klavier finding out. To have Klavier know that he was behind it – behind the missing keys, the burnt guitar, the dead manager-slash-agent and now, Lamiroir’s injury. To have Klavier find out and hate him for it would be worse than everything else he deserved.
Which was why he couldn’t be caught. Which was why he’d tried silencing Lamiroir. Which was why he was sitting on the edge of his couch, foot tapping nervously as he tried to think of what else he could do. He hadn’t slipped up anywhere so far, right? He hadn’t left behind any evidence that could be linked to him. No evidence, no guilty verdict. He knew the court system well enough to know that. He’d hated it, when he knew he’d found a criminal and couldn’t fucking prove they’d done anything because there was no evidence. Now, he was relying on it.
Funny how he could fuck himself over so easily.
Getting to his feet, he grabbed his keys and pocketed them. He needed a walk. Preferably a long one, avoiding as much human contact as possible. It was seven o’clock and dark enough outside that there wouldn’t be any kids left in the park. There was a big stretch of land, not far from his place. It had a playground on one end and the rest was left as it was, trees here and there, hills that went up, down and then up again. It was far enough from any roads that Daryan could feel like he was alone. He’d taken Klavier there a few times, just to lie outside under the stars in the fresh air and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, it was better than staying at home. It wasn’t as fun being there by himself, but it was better than nothing. It gave him a new place to sit and feel disgusted with himself.
He’d seen it when he’d spoken to that short-ass attorney with the big forehead. Something Justice. Pfft. He’d seen the suspicion in the guy’s eyes; the way he followed Daryan’s every move, the slight wrinkle in his brow as the cogs turned in his head at a million miles per second, trying to break down and analyse every fucking breath that Daryan took.
Fuck it. He didn’t care what the kid thought of him. He was Daryan fucking Crescend and people’s opinions didn’t matter to him. Not unless they came from people called Klavier Gavin.
Another wave of dread rolled over him and Daryan groaned out loud, the calm-and-collected mask he wore disappearing for a moment as he buried his face in his hands and waited for the nausea to pass. Klavier couldn’t find out. Screw whatever else happened, Klavier could. not. find. out. That was all that mattered.
He wandered back to his house about half an hour later, to find the lights turned on inside and Klavier’s car in his driveway.
“Daryan,” he was greeted with the worried voice of his friend-band mate-best friend ever-sometimes work partner-lover. “Sorry. I had to see you, so I used my spare key to let myself in until you returned. You didn’t take your phone with you.”
“It’s all good,” Daryan replied quietly. “That’s what a spare key’s for, right?”
Klavier reached for him. Daryan took the hand and let the prosecutor pull him down onto the couch where they leaned against each other. Klavier looked almost as bad as Daryan felt, which caused another jolt of guilt and self-loathing.
They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say, until Klavier took a breath.
“I know you didn’t do it. I… you… it doesn’t even make sense. No matter what Lamiroir says. Regardless of what Herr Justice presents in court. I believe in you the way I believe in myself, Daryan.”
Daryan’s shoulders slumped but Klavier didn’t notice, pressing his lips to the detective’s.
“I’m sorry for taking you off the case. It wasn’t my call to make. I assure you that the higher-ups received an earful from me. Once this is all over, we can go up together and truly give them a piece of our mind, ja?”
Daryan laughed, feeling his chest constrict. He kissed Klavier hard. “Thanks.”
Klavier’s hands came up to hold the sides of Daryan’s head and the kiss was returned gently. Lips pressing softly together, one tongue coaxing the other out, eyes shut and hands gripping tightly onto clothes. They broke for air and Klavier shifted so that he was straddling Daryan.
“Klavier…” the detective murmured, tilting his head back to allow better access to his neck as Klavier kissed and nibbled on it. “…We got rules about this, right? No fucking when we’ve got cases?”
“This is different,” Klavier said, his lips against the join between Daryan’s neck and shoulders. “You’re being wrongly accused of something. I’ve been sick with worry all day, wondering what the hell I’ll do if Herr Justice and Lamiroir manage to trick the court into believing it was you. Wondering if you hate me for keeping you from investigating. Wondering if…”
“…If I really did it?” Daryan asked quietly.
“No. I know better than that. …Wondering if someone is trying to frame you.”
“Well, if they are, they’re doing a shitty job of it. They’d have to try harder if they want to convince the prosecutor to point the finger at his best friend, right?”
“Right.”
They kissed again and a stray thought entered Daryan’s mind, telling him that this would be his last time alone with Klavier if he was found guilty. His grip on Klavier tightened and the prosecutor gave him a worried look.
“…I’ve had a shitty day,” he murmured by the way of an explanation, burying his face against Klavier’s neck.
“It’ll be better tomorrow,” the prosecutor murmured, running his hands through Daryan’s hair. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, the pressure will be off you and everything will be fine. Just like I promised before, you won’t be called up to the witness stand any more. Checking the Interpol number was enough.”
“Ugh. I betcha, the minute I open my mouth again, that siren’s gonna be pointing the finger at me again. She ain’t got no proof.”
“Indeed she doesn’t,” Klavier replied, his fingers trailing over the sides of Daryan’s neck and down his chest as far as they could before clothing stopped them.
Daryan sat up, holding Klavier’s sides and pulling him closer. Their bodies were warm against each other, mouths even warmer. Daryan took the time to relish Klavier’s kiss, memorising the taste, the feeling. (Just in case.)
Klavier rocked his hips slowly, drawing a quiet moan from Daryan at the friction. He rocked back, his hands sliding down Klavier’s sides to settle on his ass. Klavier arched, tightening his grip on Daryan’s shoulders as the detective bit into his neck.
“Scheisse, Daryan.” It took a moment for Klavier’s head to clear and then he laughed quietly. “And just a while ago, you were reminding me of our rule…”
“Well, you seemed happy enough to break it,” Daryan replied. “And if you are, I am.”
Klavier ran his thumb across Daryan’s lips with a sad look in his eyes. “You must want this as much as I do. Your day must have been terrible.”
“Don’t need your sympathy, Gavin,” the detective grumbled, knowing he didn’t deserve it.
“Ah, of course,” Klavier replied. “Just the same way I don’t need you to tell me everything’s going to be fine in the end.”
Daryan kept the grin on his face, fighting off the despair that accompanied the thought that only one of them could truly give the other what they needed. (And it ain’t me.) His grip on Klavier tightened and the prosecutor pressed their lips together gently before speaking.
“We should move to the bed, ja?”
They took the same path to Daryan’s bed that they always did, groping for each other along the way. Daryan pushed Klavier down onto the bed, crawled onto him, kissed him senseless. It was almost routine, but Daryan was intent on preserving every single detail in his memory. (Just in case. Just in case.)
Fucking Klavier was pleasure, pain, desperation and neediness all combined into the one sensation, the one moment. The afterglow was the only thing that would subdue Daryan to the point where he would tolerate outright cuddling on Klavier’s part.
Loathe as he was to admit it, he knew that he needed it at that point.
“It’ll be over soon,” Klavier murmured into his neck. “Everything will be fine.”
“There ain’t a judge in the legal system who’ll declare me guilty of murder,” Daryan whispered, his eyes fixed of invisible patterns on his ceiling.
When he had to face Klavier again, the thick barrier of bullet-proof glass between them and charges of illegal smuggling in the air, Daryan was silent for a moment.
“Well. It wasn’t a lie.”
There had been no conclusive evidence. The loophole in the system that he’d hated had saved him from death row.
It hadn’t protected him from the look of betrayal and disgust in Klavier’s eyes. But at least he still had the memories he’d saved.
Just in case.
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Date: 2009-01-12 01:45 am (UTC)