AN: I don't speak German. Everything is from Google translate; its recommended you have google translate on the side for translations.

Ema: 18 years old.

Klavier: 17 years old.

—

Misconceptions

—

"And nothing…" Ema sighs and folds up her footprint analyzer.

After the incident in Gatewater Land, Mr. Edgeworth had sent her back to Criminal Affairs with Gumshoe despite her protests. His excuse was that he had some paperwork to fill out after the murder.

(And apparently Mr. Edgeworth didn't want her in his way.)

For the last hour, she had entertained herself by tracing Gumshoe's steps around the building.

But after a while, he had become conscious of her snooping behind him and so smartly decided to avoid mud and dusty floors.

"Ugh, this is boring!" she says loudly as she stretches her arms above her.

This isn't how she wants to spend her spring break.

She wants to see Mr. Edgeworth for more than a day—and preferably without murders or kidnappings.

Normally, Ema would be all right with seeing Mr. Wright too, but he's visiting Maya off in a village somewhere. All in all, there is nothing going on and nothing for her to do.

Ema begins walking aimlessly around the building, toying with the pink beret on her head while dodging around detectives and officers as they bustle about something.

Maybe, she'll analyze for fingerprints somewhere or something—maybe she'll dust that weird cardboard cut-out of the badger so she can solve the mystery of who the heck put it there.

(It's a creepy, human-sized mascot of the LAPD that haunts the first hallway of the first floor. No one ever walks down that hall, so someone had thought to put it there.)

Happy with the idea, Ema fishes out her plastic container of fingerprint powder and starts twisting the cap off—

"Oof—"

—and walks right into a wall of black cloth. She nearly topples back.

"Ach."

Ema quickly registers a tanned hand cradling her elbow and steadying her against a solid body. Behind the body, she see the blue badger fall backwards and land on with a smack on the ground.

"…entschuldigen sie mich, fräulein—"

A foreign language?

She inhales and catches a whiff of expensive cologne and something scarily familiar like fingerprint powder—

Ema jumps back, eyes wide, and swallows her scream because—sure enough the man's black shirt was entirely caked in white.

"Omigod, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—!"

"Nein, nein—" the man says, waving his hand before attempting to pat the white off his shirt—much to no avail.

"Fingerprint powder," Ema simpers with a nervous shrug. She rummages through her purse for a rag— "I'll get that off you immediately."

She whaps him in the stomach with her handkerchief as he stares at her with an amused expression behind those shimmering sunglasses. Some powder flies off but it's stubborn as hell.

"I didn't mean to toss powder all over you—" There's a soft snort from the man and Ema flushes—"W-What is a tourist like you even doing here?"

After a few awkward seconds of trying to pat the powder off his torso (several puffs came off, but his shirt is still white), Ema straightens her back and gives a quick look around.

They're pretty much the only two in the quiet hall.

"…yeah, that won't work. Actually, there's a locker room upstairs, they have extra shirts and a washing machine—"

Ema takes quick strides to the emergency stairwell door only to notice that he wasn't following.

"What are you doing? Come—"

He doesn't say anything but stares at her with a slight upward twitch of a lip.

Ema sighs heavily, grabs his wrist and pulls him in with her to the stairwell.

—

The glamorous black, long-sleeved shirt is now tumbling in the washing machine located at the back of the locker rooms.

She pats the machine cover once and chirps, "That should do it! About twenty minutes and your shirt will be as good as new!"

The man had changed into a random black shirt found in an unfortunate police officer's unlocked cabinet and was lounging lazily on one of the metal benches.

"So why were you there?" Ema asks, sitting down on the same bench as him. She gives him a side glance. "You can't seriously be just a tourist, hm?"

He looks at her, eyes shielded behind the thick shades, but doesn't say anything.

"Right, I forgot." Ema stretches her legs and counts the stripes on her thigh-high socks. "You can't speak English."

Now that there is actually time to stare at the handsome man-specimen…

Ema takes small peeks at him as he turns away and observes the corners of the locker room.

He's young, maybe an older teenager, with overly flashy clothes—well… his black, collared shirt was fancy until she decided to redecorate it with fingerprinting powder.

There were slight traces of powder on his black pants, but he didn't seem to notice it.

Combat boots, chains on his hip with a chain-necklace around his neck, sunglasses, and rings on each finger—what kind of idiot tourist comes into a police station looking like that?

That is…unless…this guy was arrested and taken in for questioning, but interrogators discovered that he couldn't speak an ounce of English and so left him alone in an unlocked room to find a translator—

"Are you a delinquent?"

And this guy walked out of there until Ema Skye, the great forensic scientist in the making, stopped him from escaping his crime with her handy-dandy fingerprint powder—

He gives her a look, hand ruffling the bleach blonde hair on the back of his head. "Was?"

"You must have committed some heinous, tourist crime," she muses, fingers cradling her chin. Ema sighs, much like a mother would do to her child. "What did you do? Attack an officer for lunch money? Attempt to steal the blue badger outside the police station? I know it's pretty tempting for foreign visitors to be astounded by our mascot."

He looks entertained by the notion despite not understanding her. He laughs a bit and says, "Das sind nicht wirklich verbrechen, fräulein."

She gives him a blank stare.

That was definitely German—she had studied in France for two years and heard enough of different European languages to differentiate between them.

Though, unfortunately, she doesn't have a clue to what he just said.

"Let's start with greetings!" He lifts a brow and Ema clasps her hands together. "I'm Ema Skye, forensic investigator to be! I go to school in France, but since it's spring break I'm visiting the states."

"Oh… sind wir jetzt unsere namen auszutauschen?" He laughs, soft and like silk. He leans back a bit against the bench, necklace jingling after him. "Klar, ich mitspielen. Ich bin Klavier Gavin, Fräulein Skye."

Ema gapes at him like a fish. "What's it? Mitchspeal?"

"Klavier Gavin," he repeats again, as he pushes his sunglasses up, revealing very, very nice, blue eyes. Blue eyes with the hint of metallic silver—how scientifically interesting.

"Klavier?"

"Ja," he agrees with a grin. Ema mouths his name again, trying her best to imitate the lilt in his voice, which sounds just as foreign as he looks. "…Haben sie schon von mir gehört?"

Ema quirks a brow. "…What? Sorry, I don't…know?"

This young delinquent, Klavier, takes her hand and plants a tender kiss on her knuckles. He winks. "Nein?"

Ema yanks her hand away, forcing down a blush—a kiss on the hand means nothing significant, she tells herself.

Europeans are always a bit queer, so it's probably a German thing to kiss everyone's and anyone's hand.

She bats away her embarrassment with a theatrical, deep sigh.

"Klavier Gavin, huh?" He perks up at the name. "You poor guy, you can't speak English and yet you'll be tried for impertinence towards the iconic blue badger. The police officers—especially Gumshoe—will make sure you leave court guilty. What will I do with you…?"

"Was?" This time, Klavier laughs rather…boyishly.

(It's almost cute—no, shut up, it's not cute.)

"Don't think I didn't see what you did with that cardboard cut-out!" Ema says, fighting down the urge to smile. She sticks a finger at his chest, nearly tipping Klavier backwards. "You knocked it; your fancy, huge boots left a dent in it!"

Klavier sports a confused, lopsided grin and catches her hand in his. "Oh, fräulein, es wurde mir im Weg stehen."

Again, he ducks his head until his lips meet the ridge of her knuckle—

"No, I'm not flirting with you!" Ema makes a move to slap him with her free hand. Klavier catches it rather easily and clutches them tightly in his grip.

His smile becomes mischievous and she's sure he's only smirking at the red blush on her face. A beat passes before he purrs, "Willst du mich zu starten?"

"What?"

Klavier pauses for a few seconds, before his grin widens. "Du bist sehr niedlich. Ich möchte gern Sie küssen."

"Um… I don't understand—" Her eyes widen when Klavier leans forward and is nearly a breath away. She can see her own reflection in his ice, blue eyes.

"Ein kuss," he mutters softly and she feels his breath over her lips, the warm air causing her lip to tremble.

"S-Sorry, I don't—" Ema tugs at her hands, but Klavier has them locked under his grasp. She attempts to lean back as far as possible but he is close just the same, if not coming closer. "—know."

"Schließen Sie Ihre Augen," Klavier says with a breathless laugh. She shuts her eyes tight, a strange tingle running through her body causes her to shudder— "Viel besser."

Ema holds her breath, hearing her heart beat loud and fast in her ears, and counts to ten—

Beep, beep—

A cellphone?

She hears him exhale against her lips and feels the breath move to her cheek. The grip on her wrists releases.

"Excuse me."

Her eyes pop open just as he finishes fishing his phone from his back pocket and slides his thumb over the screen.

"This is Klavier Gavin speaking."

Her mind blanks.

ENGLISH?

"Ja… an important meeting?" He sounds apologetic though that smug look on his face said otherwise. "I wasn't aware that so much time has passed. I was a bit carried away with…" Klavier's eyes drift toward Ema's shell-shocked face. "…some personal matters."

"Wha…"

"Yes, yes, right away." Klavier slips the phone away to his pockets just as he stands. "I'm afraid I must excuse myself, I'm needed for a meeting apparently."

Ema finds her mouth hanging open, unable to find her voice— "You…you speak…"

Klavier smiles, dazzling and arrogant. "English. Fluently enough to understand your accusations of my person being a criminal—an accusation that I take mild offense at, fräulein~"

"You…" Ema steams, hands clenching into fists. "You made me look like an idiot!"

"Now, now," he tsks patiently as he gets up and walks toward the washing machine. "You had merely jumped to conclusions that I was a foreign tourist under arrest. Anyone—so unwissend wie du— would have done so as well."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" Ema jumps to her feet to follow him and immediately regrets it, because Klavier starts stripping—

"It was…" Klavier drops the borrowed black shirt into a nearby laundry basket. He sneaks a look at her and grins. "Bezaubernd~"

"What—?!" Ema shrieks, indignant—while trying not to stare at his tanned back and his abs, and his muscles, and—

(He's just your type, Ema— no, no he isn't.)

Klavier must have noticed her flushed face to because he takes his sweet time pulling out his washed shirt and putting it on. "Anyways, I must danke for the fun, Fräulein Skye. Shame that I couldn't have spent a bit more time with you."

"So you could see how much more of an idiot I could be?" she growls as he walks past her and towards the door.

Klavier laughs behind her, "Ja."

Ema chews her lips once and then whirls around, finding him a few steps away—

"Wait."

Klavier pauses and turns. "Hm?"

"What is a tourist like you doing here?"

He scoffs, lips curling up. "I work here."

"You…what?"

"Well. Not technically here," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Klavier smiles and leans in close, hands moving to the chain belt on his pants. "I work at the building only thirty minutes' drive away from here."

Ema stares at him before it clicks.

"You're… you're a prosecutor—mmfgh?!"

He has her hand on her chin and he's kissing her, lips soft against hers with the slightest hint of a tongue tickling the bottom of her lip. It takes a few seconds for her shock to wear down and for her mind to start fizzing out—

(They probably stood there for nearly an eternity—or a few seconds— because she can't breathe and make sense of anything—)

Klavier finally pulls away and breathes quietly, "I think I better get going, ja?"

Ema barely makes out the warm smile, dazzling a few inches away from her face. She blinks twice and feels him scooping her hand into his. "Um…right."

"Auf wiedersehen," he murmurs into the back of her hand.

"…okay."

The warm touch leaves her hand and she watches him leave the room.

The door clicks close and her brain reboots as she stumbles back and falls onto the bench—

They k…kissed.

He kissed her.

What.

Ema clasps her hands over her mouth and flushes dark red.

What the heck happened?!

—

AN: So I've read some fics where younger Klavier and Ema meet and really wanted to try writing that too. While I was looking through Ema's profile on ace attorney Wikipedia, I realized that she had returned to America for spring break in AA Investigations.

And that time would be perfect for Klavier and Ema to bump into each other. (That is if we pretend that Klavier's first trial wasn't Phoenix and hasn't happened yet.)

It's a bit AU-ish, especially with the timeline, but oh wells, it's a fic. Anything can happen non? |D;

Please leave a review! I super appreciate it~ :'D

Picture: kyunyo.()tumblr.()com()/post/51758052704

*remove parenthesis