I'm also rather new to LJ, so forgive me if I mess up.
Title : Motorcycle
Pairing : KlavierEma/KyouyaAkane
Rating : PG-13
Warning: Mild Swearing
A/N: This was posted on FF.net, but this is a better edited version. The German's correct. C= It was the first PW/AA fic ever made by me.
It had been a lousy day. A lousy week, actually. It had been naïve of her to expect it to get better. Detective Ema Skye was still smarting from Gavin’s manipulation of her testimony a few days ago. Yesterday the case of LeTouse’s murder had officially closed, but she was more irritated by that glimmerous fop than ever. She had only gone to the concert because he requested her, and she hadn’t even complied to the request willingly. Supplying her testimony of the murder hadn’t been a real problem for her, though, save the fact that it was for the benefit of the benefit of Gavin’s argument. Of course, the entire court session that day had been a fiasco. Her frustration with the prosecutor only deepened as he openly made her forensic analysis a side show.
It wasn’t any help to learn the day after that the only store who sold Snackoos within 45 miles of her apartment was sold out, and that the delicious chocolate snacks were all being sent to the Gavinners’ farewell party. Her addiction to the treats had been established when was studying in
Ema Skye was agitated when she was selected, once again, for the supervisor of security of the Gavinners’ party. She was absolutely furious when the party lasted so long she missed the last bus to her apartment. Finally, the party broke up around 1 AM, but she was forced to stay to direct the clean up crew.
As she stood there, her time wasting away uselessly as she spent it watching people clean up the prosecutor’s mess, she observed an almost full bowl of Snackoos sitting unattended at a banquet table. Immediately, she decided a different perspective of the clean up was necessary- a perspective one could only acquire if they stood next to the Snackoo bowl. Just one or two missing Snackoos wouldn’t hurt Gavin. She wouldn’t be all that broken up if it did. Besides, it was wasteful of him and his rock band to clean out a whole supply and then leave them to go bad. The clean up crew was almost done, anyway. Just one handful, and that would be all…
The detective regretted this almost instantaneously as her emerald eyes caught the glint of a gaudy silver medallion worn by the man who seemed to have materialized next to her.
“Guten abend, fräulein detective!” Klavier said cheerfully. “I was worried you had lost your liking for these snacks.”
Damn, Ema thought, looking at the prosecutor quizzically and contemplating how much a taxi would cost her at this hour. It was a fairly glamorous district, and there wasn’t much money to be made by cabbies, due to the lack of anyone needing transportation from this section of the city- not when they could take limousines and the like. It was rather inconsiderate for the Prosecutor to not have foreseen this detail when the party went on this late. Inconsiderate- that was another thing she could put down under “Reasons to Hate Klavier Gavin”. That, and “incomprehensible”. She had no idea what he was talking about when he mentioned the Snackoos.
Klavier must have seen the two conflicting emotions on her face, and he probably realized that they were forming a unified front against him. He looked rather disconcerted for a moment. More of his German accent leaked into his voice as he gestured to the glitzy crystal bowl of Snackoos on the banquet table.
“Before asking for your assistance this time, fräulein, I made sure to at least make small arrangements to keep you in good spirits. You like Snackoos, ja?”
“Yes, Mr. Gavin.” She said, keeping her voice devoid of emotion as she looked
back down at the snacks, wondering if this was an apology for making a fool of her in court or an attempt at self-glorification. Her face was blank now, and she could see his blue eyes trying to read it. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, maybe to clarify what the hell he was trying to say beyond: “Are these your favorite snacks?”
He didn’t though, and after she voiced an emotionless “thank you”, she turned from him and left. It was going to take her long enough to walk to her apartment, and she didn’t need to waste her time just so that he could formulate coherent sentences without musical accompaniment.
Ema’s walk was cold, but quiet. It was almost the middle of July, the evening chill was still pretty brisk, and her white lab coat did little against it. This left her only the silence to enjoy, though even that was short lived. She had thirty two blocks left to go when a dull roaring met her ears. The detective wasn’t worried at first.
She didn’t carry a firearm, but if she needed to she could throw acid from her bag of chemicals in the face of whomever it was troubling her. It was with despair she realized it was none other than Klavier Gavin himself, speeding along on his motorcycle. It was with greater despair but no real surprise that she saw him slow down and stop beside her. Recognizing her wasn’t too hard. How many people, including actual forensic scientists, ever wore their lab coat outside their labs? Nevertheless, she kept walking.
“Fräulein detective!” Klavier called after her with surprise.
She turned her head, stopping. “Yes, Mr. Gavin?”
“Do you live around here, Fräulein?”
“No.” She wasn’t going to waste words on pointless questions.
There it was again, that disconcerted look.
“May I offer you a ride?”
Ema bit her lip, looking down the street she was walking, and then returning her gaze to the glimmerous prosecutor. She didn’t hate him that much, he just irritated her.
And it was thirty two blocks…
She looked down the street again. As she had surmised earlier, there were no taxi cabs in sight. And Klavier didn’t have that annoying, arrogant smile he had on the clock, it was friendly and sincere. Maybe he had been trying to apologize earlier.
“Sure,” she sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Gavin.”
She sought hand holds along the rims of the seat as she sat down. The prosecutor chuckled softly as he reached behind and wound her arms around his waist. She would’ve said something, but it was painfully obvious she hadn’t rode a motorcycle before, and the detective didn’t want to further her embarrassment and supply him with something he could hold over her head later.
“Call me Klavier, detective Fräulein.” He said, his arms returning to his front as he gripped the handlebars.
“Stop calling me ‘fräulein’,” came her reply.
“Hold on, Detective Skye.”
She was going to answer immediately, but all that escaped her was an undignified yelp as the vehicle sped forward.
“This isn’t the autobahn, Klavier!” she cried out.
If she had seen his face, she would have smacked him. He was laughing.
“I normally go this fast, Detective. It’s dull otherwise.” He turned around and said with a smile.
“Wahh! Eyes on the road!” was all he got as a response.
“There’s no one around,” he said, laughter ringing in his voice. She had put her face on his shoulder, in an attempt to stifle fear and to discourage him from looking at her and not the road. A muffled “rather be dull than dead” came from his shoulder.
“Detective…?” Klavier inquired, startled by how cute she looked when he had turned around. Her fear had wiped away that hostility she so frequently faced him with, and at the same time had colored her cheeks the same shade as the lenses of her glasses. It was an added bonus that whenever he speeded up, she held him more tightly.
“Detective Skye,” he tried again. No response. He’d have to talk louder or slow down. He and the band had been singing at their party, and he figured it was rather cruel of him to be scaring her like this.
The motorcycle slowed. “Ema.”
She looked up. To his slight disappointment, she even slackened her grip. He was surprised she didn’t reprimand him for calling her by her first name. Had it been that traumatic? He suddenly felt a wave of regret. Once this was over, she was probably never going to talk to him.
“I need to know where you live.”
“Excuse me? Oh! Three more blocks and take a left. Th-thank you for slowing down.”
“You’re welcome.” He decided not to push it. Klavier was perfectly happy to have lived with calling her ‘Ema’ once, and no doubt she hadn’t quite absorbed that. Of course, he would try again eventually, but this would have to do for now. The rock star/ prosecutor was still remorseful for having gone so fast in the first place when it was so excruciatingly obvious that she had never ridden a motorcycle before.
They continued to her apartment at a moderate speed, to Ema’s relief.
“Thank you, Klavier,” the detective stated as she tentatively getting off what she had mentally declared for the last half an hour or so to be a metal death trap she would never ever approach again.
“Guten Abend, Ema.”
“Good night, Klavier.” She kept walking, unaware of the secret smile widening across his handsome face.
He wasn’t sure why it made him so happy. Klavier sped off at relatively the speed he had originally started out with, the wind generated catching the edge of her lab coat. He saw this through a side mirror, smiling as he also saw her eyes widen as realization set in. The last scene he saw before she was too far away was her head slump against the door of her apartment building and hit it repeatedly.
The smile remained on his lips even when he went into work the next morning. Even when he had been going at what Ema called a “normal, sane speed”, it hadn’t been dull, not with her behind him. But then again, he doubted it would have been dull if he had gone a “normal, safe speed” the entire way through, though. He wondered why he had been so happy, and why he continued to be every time he remembered he had spoke her name to her and she hadn’t lashed out, or Snackoo’d him as she had when he did on the clock.
He had been so surprised by how cute she was, when her face wasn’t masked by some vague enmity directed at him.
The smile remained on his lips, until Detective Skye walked in to the precinct headquarters. Her lower lip formed something like a pout, which he know thought of as cute as well. She opened her mouth and began with a cough that resembled “Klavier” and then a death stare as he laughed and swiveled in his chair that he had positioned at his office doorway just to see her reaction as she walked in.
“Guten tag, fräulein.”
“Good morning, Mr. Gavin.”