On The Complicated Relationship Between Brothers

(See original request here: http://teagueful.livejournal.com/76919.html?thread=34101111#t34101111)

It was a late autumn afternoon and the air was crisp. The sun had already retreated behind the trees, making colorful leaves appear to shimmer as they danced in the wind. The chirping of crickets signaled that evening was coming soon.

It was the shrill whistle of a teapot that finally woke Klavier Gavin from his slumber. He covered his head with his quilt and let out a muffled groan as he tried to will the sound away. Luckily, it was not long before someone removed the pot from the stove and silence returned.

Deciding that he should probably check on the time, Klavier turned towards his nightstand and glanced at his clock. He took a moment to let his eyes focus on the glowing red numbers, then knit his eyebrows together and sighed softly. He shouldn’t have let himself sleep this late.

His case the previous day had been particularly bothersome, so Klavier had been forced to delay a Gavinners practice session until nearly midnight. Then, as usual, he hadn’t allowed anyone to leave until they had each perfected the scheduled song of the night. Naturally, this meant that he hadn’t gotten home before the sun was peeking up from beyond the horizon.

“I ought to get up before the sun sets today,” he thought to himself, sitting up in bed. He tossed off his blanket, put his arms above his head, and stretched out his shoulders before finally throwing his legs over the side of the bed and jumping to his feet.

He stretched again, scratched his bare chest, and adjusted his tattered boxer shorts. Not wanting to be bothered with getting dressed quite yet, he stepped over a pile of yesterday’s clothes on the floor and padded softly out of his bedroom door and down the hallway. The lights in the bathroom were on, he noticed. Strange. Usually Kristoph was so adamant about saving energy.

As he approached the kitchen, he could smell the sweetness of something baking, and could hear the shuffle of feet and the clatter of silverware on dishes. Pleased that he would be able to enjoy his brother’s cooking that night, Klavier grinned like a child as he turned and strode through the doorway.

When he entered, there was a sudden silence, and Klavier stopped short in surprise at what he saw. Kristoph, standing in the middle of the room and holding a platter of pastries, was eyeing him disapprovingly, and a familiar, obscured face was peering up at him from the kitchen table. Klavier suddenly flushed and looked at his feet, feeling very naked and wishing that he had at least thought to brush his hair and put on some pants before leaving his room.

“We have company for afternoon tea, Klavier,” Kristoph said in a slightly scolding tone. With his perfectly pressed suit and impeccably styled hair, he looked like the complete opposite of his unkempt younger brother, despite their almost twin-like features. “Of course, you know Prosecutor Godot.”

The man at the table pushed out his chair and stood up in greeting. Trying to save face, and hoping that the prosecutor wouldn’t notice his embarrassment, Klavier extended a hand towards him.

“Klavier,” he said, introducing himself when they shook hands. He tried to hide his uneasiness with a confident smile. Godot said nothing in response, but a smirk from below his silver visor made his amusement obvious. Klavier had a nagging feeling that he was being evaluated.

Deciding that enough necessary pleasantries had been exchanged, Kristoph frowned.

“Klavier, go make yourself decent,” he snapped in a hushed voice, as if to hide it from their guest.

“Ah... yes. Of course,” Klavier replied, his blush returning as he backed out of the door. “Sorry.”

Hurrying down the hallway, he silently cursed at himself for not being more observant. Of course Kristoph wouldn’t have baked if they didn’t have guests. Of course he wouldn’t have left the bathroom lights on. He heard an unfamiliar chuckle from the kitchen and screwed up his face in silent shame.

“Well, shit,” he spat quietly as he shut his bedroom door. Not only had he managed to embarrass his brother yet again, but he had looked like a slob in front of a senior prosecutor.

Glancing into the mirror, he frowned. Far from the confident and polished Klavier he was used sharing with fans and legal professionals, this Klavier looked like he had just escaped from a war zone. He raked a comb through his hair as he began to search his closet for a decent set of clean clothes.

Prosecutor Godot. Of course Klavier knew him. Well, he knew of him. He had been sent to jail over a murder case that took place around the time Klavier had passed the bar exam, so they had never actually met. However, his skill and larger-than-life persona had made him something of a living legend in the prosecutors’ office. As it was revealed in the final trial that led to his arrest, Prosecutor Godot had originally been known as Diego Armando, a defense attorney at Grossberg Law Offices.

“That must be how my brother knows him,” Klavier thought as he buttoned up his shirt. It wasn’t unlike Kristoph to fail to mention entire portions of his life to Klavier, so he wasn’t surprised to find that they were acquainted.

After putting on a set of fresh clothes and washing his face, Klavier finally felt presentable, and headed towards the kitchen to try and repair the damage he had done. Smoothing his shirt one last time, he took a deep breath, donned a winning smile, and headed through the door. He found the two men sitting at the table and laughing quietly together. Klavier hoped it wasn’t him that they were laughing at.

He approached the table gingerly.

“Prosecutor Godot, I’m sorry about before. I didn’t know that we had company,” Klavier said, smiling. “You can forgive me, ja?”

“Just ‘Godot’ is fine,” he purred in response, still facing Kristoph. He took a sip of something that looked significantly more like coffee than tea.

“Godot,” Klavier echoed, feeling somewhat uneasy, although continuing to grin cheerfully. He looked to Kristoph for permission to join them at the table, but his brother gave no indication that he was invited to do so.

“Prosecutor Godot will be staying with us for the time being. I hope you will make him feel at home,” Kristoph announced matter-of-factly before taking a sip of what definitely looked more like tea than coffee.

“Oh!” Klavier responded, startled, his smile melting into a look of disbelief. “What... what a surprise. Of course, you’re welcome.”

Staying with us? Klavier was shocked. Had Godot been released from prison with no place to go? Even if he had, why would his brother have offered their penthouse rather than helping to make other arrangements for him? Although they had a guest room that was used occasionally, Klavier couldn’t recall one time that the guest had been Kristoph’s. His brother usually disliked the disruption of routine that came with inviting an outsider into his home overnight.

“Please, just let me know if you need anything while you’re here,” Klavier offered after an awkward silence, trying again to mask his uncertainty with a smile. Finally, Godot turned to face him.

“Thanks, Kitten,” he said, looking up with a gleaming white grin. “I might take you up on that offer.”

Klavier’s stomach did a backflip, and he flushed again without knowing why. “It’s because he’s so famous,” he reasoned, trying not to gawk at him awkwardly. In the back of his mind, he knew that his meeting famous people didn’t usually cause that kind of reaction, but he chose not to dwell on it. Godot, clearly entertained by the effect he was having on Klavier, let out a soft chuckle and took another sip of his coffee.

Mortified at the terrible first impression he seemed to be making, Klavier again looked to Kristoph for some kind of direction. However, his brother was currently partaking of a madeleine and was paying him no attention. Klavier managed to hold his celebrity smile steady, but felt himself starting to panic.

Suddenly, a familiar song rang out from down the hall.

“Oh!” Klavier nearly shouted. “That’s my phone. I’m sorry. Excuse me. It was nice to meet you, Prosec- I mean, Godot.”

Klavier just about tripped over his own feet trying to escape back to his room. By the time he got there, he was gasping for air. Whether it was because he had run for his phone, or for some other reason, he wasn’t sure. With the press of a button and a beep, Klavier put his phone to his ear.

“Thank you, Daryan,” he sighed as he sank into his bed.