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Apollo Justice hates being shirtless. He doesn’t know why, but frankly, he’d rather be dead than go out in public without a shirt. Even when it’s hot out he’d prefer to just wear a tank top, choosing to wear a rash guard when he swims too. And even in the privacy of his own home, honestly, he’d rather just be wearing something to cover up.
The man in question leans back in his office chair and yawns, running his hands through the now messy clump of gelled hair. Glancing at the time he sighs. The digital clock on the desk glows startlingly late 3:00 am. He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, just trying to finish the paperwork and some loose ends for his latest trial. How could this have happened?
His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he had skipped dinner, in favor of his precious paperwork. He sighs. There should probably be something in the fridge he could quietly eat without disturbing Klavier, who was sleeping peacefully in the other room. Trying to summon the energy, he stands up and quietly pads his way to the bedroom. Being careful not to wake his partner, he slowly takes off his tie and unbuttons his vest and shirt folding them carefully (ish). Before unbuckling his belt and finally taking off his pants.
Apollo hadn’t realized how stuffy the place was. He was pretty warm, and the very faint breeze from moving around felt good on his skin. Setting down his clothes, he bends down to open one of the drawers on the dresser. He grabs whatever was just on top, a pair of grey sweatpants, and puts them on, before going to open the shirt drawer.
As he tries to pull it open the drawer squeaks loudly. Apollo freezes worried he might have woken the sleeping rockstar. He stands there, holding his breath until he feels sure that he hasn’t woken him up. Letting out that massive breath in relief. Situation avoided. His stomach grumbles in response. Right, food. Apollo assumes he can go a little while longer without a shirt. It’s not that bad. Since it’s dark outside, no one can see him anyways.
He however still has one stop to make before getting food. Quietly tiptoeing to the bathroom, trying to run the sink as quietly as he can, he washes out the days’ mass of hair gel. Then combing through the wet mess, his normally spiky horns flopping lamely at his face. Finally, after drying his hair, he can make his way to the kitchen.
Searching through the fridge returns no good results. There’s not much, and he’s really not in the mood for coleslaw for dinner, again. He hopes the freezer might hold something, shuffling the plastic bags around, careful not to disturb the ice trays. He spots his prize, bingo, Eggo waffles. He pulls out the bag, which only holds two. He closes the freezer, not wanting it open any longer. Grabbing the last two waffles from the bag he pops them into the toaster oven, and turning the knob, before sitting down.
It’s been less than a minute before his stomach starts growling again. There’s gotta be something in the fridge that can tide him over just a little longer. He opens the fridge, looking for snacks rather than food, his eyes settling on a capri-sun. Good enough, he thinks, grabbing it. Using the glow from the toaster, he manages to get the straw out and stabbed through the hole.
As he continues to sit there a thought wanders across his mind. How will he actually make the waffles? Not what to put on them but how will he see? He can’t just turn on the light. That would surely wake up Klav. The kitchen lights are brighter than the sun he swears. Flashlight maybe? No clue where it would be, same with a headlamp… He spends a moment thinking before almost slamming his hands on the counter, courtroom style, barely catching himself. Candles.
He goes to grab the lighter from the junk drawer, trying to remember where Klav keeps the tea lights he uses when he takes a bath. He grabs two of them, setting them down on the counter and lighting them. Tossing the lighter back in its rightful place, and taking another sip of the capri-sun. This is honestly pretty peaceful. Basking in the red glow of the toaster oven with a shirt off, with candles lit and sipping a strawberry-kiwi capri-sun. His peaceful musings were interrupted by the *ding* of the toaster oven.
Trying not to burn his precious finger off, he carefully transfers the hot, toasted Eggos to a plate. Trying to keep the silverware from clattering too much, he carefully pulls out a butter knife and a fork. Carefully buttering the burning hot waffles, the butter going on smoothly after sitting on the counter all day, a miracle, to be honest. And then the final step, the maple syrup. He tries to use the fork to eat it, but the waffle has hardened. Oh well, he just picks it up with his hands, taking a massive bite out of it, reaching for the capri-sun he had set down earlier.
Someone shuffles into the room, Apollo freezing, half a waffle in his mouth, reaching for the drink.
“Schatz what are you doing?” A tired Klavier, hair down and messy, a pair of thick-rimmed glasses balanced precariously on his nose, having just woke up. Carefully Apollo takes the waffle out of his mouth.
“Eating a waffle at 3 am by candlelight? Did I wake you up?”
“No, no… Are those candles?” Apollo just nods, taking a bite of his waffle, the syrup dripping onto his hands.
“I’m going to leave you to it, Liebling, have fun.” Klav runs his hands through his hair, leaving him to eat in peace. Apollo takes a drink, before wishing him goodnight. And finishing his first waffle in peace. Standing up to grab a napkin to wipe off the syrup.
The waffles were good if not a little over toasted. Not enough butter but just the right amount of maple syrup. Namely, the waffle was entirely drowned. Dripping all over the place. He knew he would need to wash the counter and clean up, but that can all wait. He can enjoy the rest of his meal was finished in peace, appreciating the mood. After all, how often do you eat waffles at 3 am by candlelight?