Work Text:
1)
Aventurine had done his homework on the esteemed Dr Ratio. He researched everyone he had to work with, but this case was special. There was boundless information about Veritas Ratio. He found at least eight documentaries about the man, countless memoirs and even a few books dedicated to him. Multiple threads on multiple websites and forums were created for him, with pages upon pages of complaints, praises, admiration, and more. And that wasn’t even touching the countless papers Ratio himself wrote - all sorts of different fields, all sorts of different topics.
But a commonality in many of the posts and people he referred to was this: Dr Ratio was kind of an asshole.
So many comments were agonising about their experience with Ratio. Others were nicer; they called him direct but kind after some time. It was a minority Aventurine noted, but it was ultimately drowned out by the masses of angry students failing in his classes who needed to vent. Fellow IPC workers told him about a time Ratio’s harsh words made an intern cry, another time he threw chalk at their heads for some reason, or simply ignored them outright by wearing some plaster headpiece.
Another thing about the man was that he had a striking figure.
He had seen images of the man online. For such a public and well-known person, his face was a mystery. Almost all pictures were of him with that bust on his head. Any pictures without it were blurry and obviously snapped by a student in the middle of a lecture. Violet hair, adorned by some golden accessory was all Aventurine could ever make out. He could see the appeal, though. Ratio might cover up his face, but thank the Aeons above he made little effort to cover his body. If anything, he was flaunting it. Why else would he wear a tight black shirt with a window displaying porcelain skin? His asymmetrical outfit drew so much attention to his exposed arm, showing off his muscles for everyone to see. And those sashes he wore did nothing to cover up the surprisingly slim waist he had. No wonder he stumbled upon multiple threads discussing his looks earlier.
Aventurine couldn’t deny it; the doctor was handsome. Privately, he wanted those anecdotes of his personality to be simple over-exaggerations. His good looks would be wasted if Ratio was what everyone described him as. Aventurine hummed to himself as he closed the laptop. Perhaps a bit out of intrigue, and partly because of undeniable attraction, Aventurine truly hoped they got along.
◇─◇──◇─◇
2)
Ratio was going to drive Aventurine up a fucking wall. No, that was a lie - the taller man had already succeeded in doing just that. The project was nothing special. All the IPC did was invest in some grand marketplace and believed the organisers were embezzling. It was a boring task, nothing spectacular at all. March in, check their documents, confront them with a few guards present, and leave. There was close to no risk unless Aventurine screwed up massively.
Thirty minutes, give or take. That was enough time to discuss it.
Aventurine looked at the clock. At least an hour and a half since they all walked in here, all because of one man.
“And if they are embezzling? Then what? You let them run off to jail, where they are almost certain to bail themselves out the moment they have the chance?”
“Does it matter? Our business starts and ends with this investigation-”
“Insufficient,” the plaster-headed man cut him off for the millionth time this meeting. Did he have a problem with him? “One of the most common tricks is to have some brainless associate of theirs take over the position and have them do whatever they want. If this were to happen, we would have reports of embezzlement by the next year. Do you truly want a repeat visit over this?”
“You make a lot of assumptions about a place you’ve never been to.”
“It’s called planning. A skill I fear you severely lack, based on the course of action you provided at the beginning of this meeting.”
The course of action was vague and short, with many filler words and huge spacing to make it seem longer than it was. Boiled down, the steps were finding financial evidence and confronting them. There was nothing before or after. Hell, Aventurine wasn’t even sure where to find this ‘financial evidence’ in the first place; when he heard they were sending an Intelligensia Guild member with him, he figured he could get their help on that. Now knowing what Ratio was like, it seemed that Aventurine would be working independently again. Aventurine was flexible though, he could manage. A general outline was all he needed, and he would see where it would take him. Nobody got anywhere without risks, anyway. An opinion a certain doctor was openly berating him for.
After spending the last thirty minutes trying to argue back with his perspective and getting nowhere, it was clear that it was not a method that would go through that thick alabaster head of his. Ratio was far too logical, smart and stubborn for Aventurine to shut him up in an argument. He would need shock, he would need action.
“Don’t you have any respect?” Aventurine asked, tilting his head to the side, fixing the most charming smile he could muster, “Nobody just rises to the title of a Stoneheart, you know.”
“With your obvious inexperience, I can see how anyone might come to such a conclusion.”
This asshole.
“... So you believe I’m underqualified?” Aventurine questioned through gritted teeth, drumming his fingers on the table. He couldn’t see what Ratio’s gaze was fixated on, but he was sure it was solely on him, “What a pity. With my position as a Stoneheart and my employment from Diamond himself, I believe I’ve caught Qlipoth’s attention more than you ever will Nous’.”
Ratio didn’t move. Only his chest rose and fell, but other than that, he was still. Most likely out of practice; there was no way he hadn’t been confronted on the subject. Stoicness and neutrality must be something he taught himself to avoid speculation about it.
Aeons, Aventurine wished he could see his face. How deep did that cut him?
“Ratio, it seems we’ve got off the wrong foot here,” Every action had a purpose. He watched as the plaster head turned to keep up with Aventurine as he rounded the table. Aventurine watched, enthralled by the tenseness of Ratio’s shoulders when he reached into an IPC guard’s back pocket and fished out a gun. The way Ratio leaned away from him when Aventurine finally made it to him, gun in hand, smile on his face, was delectable.
“I feel like our communication has been lacking,” Aventurine said calmly, emptying every chamber in the gun but one. He let them scatter around them on the carpeted floor like how flower petals surrounded lovers on springtime picnics, “I can’t help but feel like there’s a little bit of distance between us with that mask of yours. Be a dear and take it off for me?”
Aventurine expected pushback. Some smart words, a step back. To his surprise, he received nothing of the sort. He expected the hand Ratio raised to push him away, slap the revolver out of his hand, or simply hit him across the face, but nothing of the sort happened. Ratio took the headpiece off.
It was immediately clear to Aventurine that his dare - a dare he didn’t think Ratio would entertain - was a bad idea. He knew Ratio was handsome, but to stare that fact in the face was overwhelming, especially with a gun in his hand.
The violet hair was expected, but he didn’t expect it to be so pretty. It was thick and shiny, falling in cascades that framed his face nicely. A golden laurel was pinned in his hair - seemingly for decorative reasons only, as it did nothing to prevent hair from falling into his face. The smallest touch of red eyeliner was drawn around his eyes, highlighting the amber of his irises. His skin was as perfect as the rest of his body, his jawline almost the same as the statue head he wore, his lips the perfect shade of pink.
Aventurine straightened his back. Snapped the gun back into its proper position. An action he, much to his dismay, had to peel his eyes away from Ratio for. But that was okay - in a matter of seconds he was picking up Ratio’s hand and placing the revolver into it, wrapping Ratio’s fingers around the trigger before he pressed it to his chest.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Playing a game,” Aventurine said with a wolfish grin, “It’s to make us closer associates.”
Ratio didn’t say anything - not that he needed to, anyway. With that damned headpiece off, Aventurine was now given the chance to watch a flurry of emotions parade across Ratio’s face. Confusion, terror, the hauntingly delicious fear, manifested in furrowed brows and the slightest tremble of the gun.
“You wouldn’t do such a thing,” Ratio tugged his hand away, but Aventurine’s hand stopped it. With the strongest grip he could muster, he forced Ratio’s hand to stay on the trigger, his other hand on the gun barrel so Ratio couldn’t miss.
“You don’t believe me?” Aventurine’s voice was a bit strained from the effort he was putting into holding him there. Ratio was strong, and Aventurine wasn’t taking any chances.
“It seems like I’ll need to get you up to speed on how I do things if our cooperation were to remain amicable.”
Ratio’s breaths were shaky and shallow, a nice contrast to Aventurine’s trained deep breaths. He gave the man a second to play the game voluntarily, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, patiently waiting for the click of the revolver.
That never happened. When Aventurine saw a drop of sweat roll from Ratio’s hairline and down his temple, Aventurine smiled wider as he reached out for the trigger himself.
Click.
Still here, still breathing. Being this close to death was more thrilling than living normally; adrenaline shot through his body like fireworks in the sky, his heart pounding against his chest, a loud reminder that he continued to live after all those years.
Ratio made no move to pull the trigger. If anything, Aventurine felt resistance against his grip. He was back to trying to give up their game. No matter - Aventurine could keep playing for him.
Click.
It was impressive how he was still alive. Perhaps the luck he lost during those earlier years of his life finally made their way back to him, for this special little game with a man he wanted to completely devour.
Elation pooled in his stomach when Ratio tugged his hand away with more force, his lips moving once again to say something.
“Aven-”
Click.
Another empty shot.
Aventurine was lucky. He felt his smile grow bigger as he let go of the revolver. It slipped from their hands easily, falling to the floor with a gentle thud.
“Life is a gamble, and I’ll always be the winner,” Aventurine licked his lips, enjoying the tortured expression on Ratio’s face. It was impressive how quickly Ratio’s impassiveness slipped from a simple game, “So don’t go worrying your pretty little head about this project. I can handle it fine, plan or no plan.”
◇─◇──◇─◇
3)
Gingerly, Aventurine touched his arm.
He looked at the blood on his fingers with a blank expression.
The IPC guards arrived later than he expected. They must have gotten caught up in the crowds or at a stall or something because by the time they did show up, that damned embezzler had pulled out a pocket knife on him. How pathetic of him to feel cornered and choose to bare his teeth. He should have accepted his loss and let the IPC deal with him.
But no, he just had to try and fight his way out of it. Now Aventurine’s clothes were ruined.
Aventurine took off his jacket, barely listening to the loud cursing of the man as he was taken away. He waved off the IPC lackeys offering to help, delegating them to finding him bandages. While they ran around in their search, he inspected his wound calmly, the crimson on his fingertips slowly drying.
It was a long cut, starting from a ways under his wrist and reaching his elbow. Blood was spilling, enough to cover his arm in red, but not enough to worry him. Aventurine had seen what blood bursting from a cut vein looked like - this injury wasn’t serious. It hurt, though. The pain was sharp and throbbing throughout his whole right arm, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had gone through worse.
Aventurine wrapped the sleeve of his jacket tightly around his arm, ignoring the squelch sound it made when he did so. He allowed himself to be led to a nearby seat, but he waved off any IPC guards who tried to aid him.
The door swung open and Aventurine nearly groaned when a familiar mop of violet hair emerged, medical supplies in hand. He smiled to mask his annoyance that he had to be here. Ever since their infamous meeting where they played a public game Russian Roulette (which went viral on the IPC forums), they had barely spoken a word to each other. Aventurine never felt any need to bridge the communication gap between them, especially considering Ratio’s contradicting ideas. He simply emailed him instructions and ignored any replies.
“Ratio,” Aventurine said, his dislike imperceptible, “What brings you here? I thought you were busy complaining to the IPC about my ‘unwillingness to cooperate.’”
Ratio scoffed, placing the first aid kit on the table next to him. “Silence,” Ratio ordered, pulling up a seat beside him, “Show me your arm,” was his next command. He held his hand outwards, expectantly.
“It’s not that bad,” Aventurine argued, bringing his arm closer to his chest, “Hand me the bandages and we can be on our way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ratio scoffed, “You’re bleeding. It would be ignorant of me to do such a thing. Give me your arm now, and we can be on our way out sooner rather than later.”
“Ratio, you’re being overdramatic. I can deal with-”
“Arm. Now.”
He sighed. If Ratio wanted to waste his time, he would let him. Aventurine unwrapped his arm and let it lay on Ratio’s palm. If Ratio wanted to, he could have yanked his arm towards him with a bruising grip on his wrist. Instead, Ratio’s hold was feather-light, close to unnoticeable if it weren’t for the warmth radiating from him.
“I’m going to clean it now. Is that okay?”
Aventurine shrugged, “Your call, Doctor.”
The blood had stopped pouring. Now, Aventurine was left with an arm with red smeared all around. A few slivers of pale skin could be seen beneath the blood, a staggering contrast to the deep red he was painted in.
Where Ratio found a wet rag, Aventurine didn’t know. All he knew was that Ratio was gently wiping away blood, a grimace forming on his face as the wound became clearer. It was deeper than Aventurine pictured, but still not worthy of this kind of attention. Ratio was off in his own little world, completely dedicated to the meaningless task of cleaning Aventurine’s wound. Aventurine would look away and distract himself from this… strange interaction, but all the IPC guards were gone and the room was plain. He was left to watch Ratio silently, observing how large hands that could easily have him by the throat chose to clean him, doing his best to not cause any more unnecessary bleeding. Ink-stained hands grazed his skin so lightly it tickled, leaving Aventurine appalled that such a blunt man could be so kind.
“Alright,” Ratio said after a while. He looked at Aventurine with earnest sincerity in his eyes, “I will add an antibiotic cream to your cut to reduce any chances of infection. Are you allergic to anything?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Good,” Ratio squeezed some cream from a tube, slender fingers applying them to his cut with astounding swiftness and softness. It’s calming, Aventurine thought to himself, it’s nice. His touch was soothing, and Aventurine felt himself relaxing just the slightest bit.
“You ought to exercise more caution,” Ratio said as he unfurled a roll of bandages. It was a statement that would, in most circumstances, piss Aventurine off. But Ratio’s tone wasn’t annoyed or angry, and there wasn’t even a hint of disappointment. His voice was low and steady, a new tenderness in it that Aventurine had never heard the man speak with before. “This was a dangerous endeavour to do alone. You could have been seriously hurt.”
“Why do you care?” Aventurine fired back, crossing his legs. If he pushed him hard enough, would Ratio’s kind caress turn foul, his nails digging into his open flesh?
“I’m no fool,” Ratio’s voice didn’t sway; he stayed calm and collected as he tightened the bandages, “I know a cry for help when I see one.”
“So you pity me?”
“I sympathise with you.”
“I see no difference.”
“Genuine concern should not be this much of a bother to anyone,” Ratio said matter-of-factly, “it’s disheartening to see how foreign of a concept this is for you.”
“You take me too seriously, Ratio,” Aventurine said as he watched Ratio begin to finish up.
“I fear the opposite is your problem,” Ratio tied the bandages up, securing them, “I don’t think you are taken seriously enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aventurine asked, his eyes unintentionally drifting to Ratio’s hand. He had since retracted them, his arms now crossed as he leaned back on his chair. A pity; the warm touch was a welcome change.
“I believe my first impression of you was wrong. I’ve looked into your past projects. Your methods may be… ill-fitting, but you maintain high success rates nonetheless. Even if I disagree with how you operate, it would be foolish of me to claim you are anything less than smart,” Ratio clicked his tongue, his gaze resting firmly on Aventurine, “Yet, as you have correctly stated in an earlier meeting, this is a mundane task worth little value, with surprisingly high risk. Someone of your calibre deserves better projects to work on.”
The observation was objectively right. No matter how under-the-table Aventurine’s methods were. he was an invaluable asset to the IPC. Yet he was always running the worst jobs. It was a notion Aventurine understood well for years now, but to hear it out loud and from someone else was comforting.
He shifted in his seat. When was the last time he felt that?
“I’ve done my research on you, too,” Aventurine said. Some part of him wanted to prompt Ratio to keep going, to see what else the man had to say about him. The other part was scared Ratio was aware of what kind of backdoor methods he was using to get his way, and he didn’t want to be confronted with that.
“I expect no less from you.”
Aventurine smirked at that, “Really?”
Ratio nodded, “I believe you are more thorough than you claim to be.”
“It’s an honour to be complimented by the Dr Ratio,” Aventurine said, relishing the way Ratio rolled his eyes at the comment, “Here I was, thinking you disdained me.”
“Disdain? Based on what evidence?”
Maybe Ratio was the stupid one of them. After the stunt he pulled with the gun, it should be achingly obvious why Ratio would at least distaste Aventurine’s being.
But no matter. If Ratio wanted to play dumb, he would let him.
“This evidence,” Aventurine gestured at the room they were in, “What is a logician of high renown doing with a gambler like myself?”
“... My job.”
“You’re an expert in at least seven different fields, you’ve researched more than the average person ever will, and you hold seminars and lectures that people would die to attend in person,” Aventurine smiled as he stood up from his chair, enjoying the way amber eyes followed his figure, “And yet you have spent the last week making sure I don’t accidentally kill myself on this project. Surely you’re tired, or you at least resent me. You could be anywhere you desire, yet you choose to be here with me. Isn’t it boring? Isn’t this mundane?”
“I stand by the Intelligensia Guild. The values they strive for are values I admire and adhere to as well. If I am going to be sent on a mission with you, I must resign myself to believe there is a bigger picture in mind,” after a moment’s pause, Ratio added, “Besides, not all tasks I am assigned to are mundane.”
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Feisty,” Aventurine joked, putting his hands up in mock surrender. Ratio was exactly as he expected - an Intelligentsia Guild member because he believed in the vitality of information. There had to be more, though. It was some comment in one of the many books about Ratio that stood out to him. Something about Ratio’s bitter laughter when he realised he received an invitation from the Intelligentsia Guild to join their ranks instead of the Genius Society. Surely, there was something he could use there. He just needed to squeeze the information out of Ratio first.
“Anyway, have you had time to visit the night market?”
“Of course,” Ratio said, “One of the best parts of projects like these is the ability to immerse oneself in another planet’s culture.”
“Good. You’re picking out a dinner spot. I’ll pay, seeing as you’ve done me a favour already.”
“Nonsense. It’s only fair to split the bill.”
“Let me be courteous, Ratio,” Aventurine sighed, heading towards the door, “Now indulge me; what is the best food you’ve had here so far?”
Ratio was by his side in less than a second - Aventurine turned around and had to hide his surprise as he was faced with Ratio’s chest.
“A small noodle stand,” Ratio said, “It’s nearby, but I would prefer if you rested in your hotel room instead.”
“Already tired of me?” Aventurine asked as he pushed open the door for them.
Ratio ignored him, “I’ll buy the food and I can bring it back to your hotel room to eat. Does that sound fine?”
“How will you know what I want to order?”
“I’ll make an educated guess.”
Idiot, Aventurine thought, he could just text me. Their messages may be bare, but they did have each other’s numbers.
They walked side by side, Ratio’s hand occasionally brushing his. Aventurine hummed to himself to distract from the feeling he got every time they so much as grazed fingers. The memory of Ratio’s nimble handiwork as he bandaged his arm, the surprising amount of dedication and care for such a minor wound - Aventurine turned away, pretending to be very interested in the city sights from the first-floor window. If Ratio saw the pink on his cheeks from something as simple as walking together, Aventurine would find his perpetrator and ask him to finish the job properly.
When Ratio came to his hotel room with dinner in hand, Aventurine completely forgot to ask him about his thoughts on the Genius Society.
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4)
Aventurine yawned as he leaned his head against the headrest, closing his eyes for a few seconds as the car sped along.
IPC events were so boring. He didn’t know who they were kidding, running a charity ball. Everyone knew the IPC had no care for vulnerable people or planets. It was about taking the valuables on that planet before the civilians on it could discover the potential of their natural riches. It was about training people to work for them and think like them.
They had run so many charity balls to help the sick and needy, the victims and the survivors. Though Aventurine couldn’t deny the fact the balls did send some money to the causes, everyone knew if the IPC truly cared those issues could be solved within a day.
Aventurine used to think the charity balls did something. In his first days after becoming Aventurine, he sorted out a whole new charity to aid vulnerable people. Any minority race threatened with violence would have the finances to flee. Diamond shut it down quickly, saying something about the charities being decided already. He tried again the next year and failed. The one after that failed too. It was always a failure.
Some IPC members believed the IPC’s fallacy - Topaz, for one. But to be fair, she had no reason to be disillusioned. She was the golden child of the Stonehearts; her massive fumble over Jarilo-VI only got her demoted. If Aventurine messed up his upcoming project in Penacony - which he was sure he was given because he was so expendable and the project was so risky - Diamond might finally kill him off.
Ratio was also a darling of the IPC. He was essentially a celebrity; of course when Ratio asked for a charity that provided education to planets with a severe lack of academia they said yes without a second thought. It was a cause Aventurine found himself donating some money towards - it would have been nice to know how to read before the IPC found him all those years ago.
Aventurine looked at the doctor through lazy blinks. He was driving, despite Aventurine’s numerous requests to drive instead. He wasn’t drunk at all - yes, he took a few sips here and there, but so did Ratio. He didn’t understand Ratio’s insistence on driving Aventurine back to his apartment, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not only did he get to rest, but he also had a front-seat view to admire Ratio from.
Without the plaster headpiece on, Ratio grabbed people’s attention. Aventurine supposed it was validating to see others, in real-time, lose focus on what they were doing or saying because Ratio walked by. It made sense too - the tight black suit and pants he was wearing were hugging every muscle and curve. It was accentuated with golden patterns up his sleeves and a dark blue shirt underneath. The cherry on top was the black bow tie he purposely left undone, a design choice that was more characteristic of Aventurine than Ratio. And whatever he had done to his hair - for the life of him, Aventurine couldn’t figure it out - was working. Every wave was perfect, every strand perfectly in place. It was like he walked straight out of a painting.
And though Aventurine understood all the prying eyes, he couldn’t stop the twist in his chest when a rich woman dragged their hands down his arm, or a drunk man got a little too close.
It didn’t matter in the end, because only he was being spoiled with the sight of Ratio driving in the night, amber eyes focused on the road as streetlights lit his figure up, revealing his laid-back posture and serene expression.
“You got a lot of donors for that charity of yours,” Aventurine commented.
“I would hope so,” Ratio said, his gaze shifting slightly to the side as he saw Aventurine’s apartment complex appear ahead, “I’m exhausted from all the talking.”
They came to a stop, the stop light painting the once-dark car red. Violet hair shone with a red hue, much to Aventurine’s interest. He drummed his fingers on the car door, unable to look away.
Aeons, he must have been drunker than he thought - the urge to reach out and touch his hair was irresistible.
“Not gonna lie, I don’t think you had to talk at all to get donations,” Aventurine said, looking out the window at the huge buildings lit up by overnight office workers, “If you batted your eyes and pointed I think they would’ve donated anyway.”
Ratio paused, brows furrowing as he turned to Aventurine.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind,” Aventurine said quickly. Surely Ratio wasn’t that ignorant when it came to his own appearance, right?
Red switched to green and they were off again, the car swerving to the right. They were back to being lit up with the cold whites of streetlights and the colourful neon lights of billboards advertising food.
“This one, right?” Ratio asked, pointing at a building.
“Good eye.”
Yep, Aventurine was drunker than he thought.
Ratio kept an arm around him, steadying him as he walked down the hallway. After the first time he tripped and fell on his face in the lobby, Ratio was taking no chances. They walked in silence to Aventurine’s apartment; the sixth apartment on the sixth floor. As Aventurine checked his pockets for the keycard, Ratio watched him carefully, a hand outstretched, ready to support him if he so much as swayed.
“Did you enjoy it?” Ratio asked suddenly.
“Huh?”
“The charity ball. Did you enjoy it?”
Aventurine laughed, “I used to.”
“Not anymore?”
“Absolutely not. It’s a social event more than anything. They just want to look good so the rest of the universe likes them. They don’t mean shit.”
“Then why do you still attend?”
“I’m a masochist, obviously,” he joked as he fished the card out of his back pocket. When he was met with a serious expression, he backpedalled, “I’m a Stoneheart, Ratio. I can’t skip these things.”
He swiped it and the quiet beep resounded through the empty hallway.
“But if you could?”
“If I could…?”
“If you weren’t with the IPC. If not for them, what would you be doing right now?”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Ratio drive earlier because he must have been drunk to think Aventurine would answer such a question. Yet, the hand with the keycard in it fell to his side, the goal of sleeping pushed aside for a minute.
It was a question Aventurine had heard many times before, but never in this context. It was always by sleazy men with their arms around him, suffocating him, whispering the question in his ear. The answer Aventurine made was robotic and practised. Suck up any feelings of disgust, lean into those greasy arms. Look up at him, smile. Maybe even touch his cheek if Aventurine feared he could lose their favour. Tell them what they want to hear - Aventurine would be theirs if not for the IPC. Those heavy words rolled off his tongue with such ease it disturbed him afterwards.
Yet here was Ratio, an arm's distance away, leaning against his apartment door, his expression curious. Interested. Genuine.
He deserved an honest answer. The problem was that the truth was lacklustre.
“I don’t know,” Aventurine replied, “This is where you’re the lucky one out of us, Ratio. There’s a lot for you outside the Guild. I have nothing other than the IPC.”
The answer was heavy, settling around them like a heavy blanket. Distantly, Aventurine wondered what Ratio thought his answer would be. Perhaps he thought Aventurine would lie and tell him about a grand holiday he wished to go on. Tour the stars, see the sights. What Ratio thought of him, he would pay a fortune to find out.
Aventurine swiped his keycard again, “Anything I had in my life was taken away from me. It’s just me now.”
Aventurine opened his door, only making it so far until he stopped to see Ratio’s face.
His eyes were downcast, hair covering up the face Aventurine had grown so fond of. He didn’t have to see his lips to know an apology was coming.
“Don’t look so down, it doesn’t suit you,” Aventurine said, his foot in the door, “plus, it makes me a better employee.”
“Aven-”
“Stop being so worried about me,” Aventurine reached out, his hand grabbing Ratio’s arm. He remembered those beautiful women in their designer dresses holding Ratio’s arm, just like he was now, “I don’t like things being taken away from me as much as you do,” He could hear it - the smallest hint of a tremor in his voice. Aventurine was so good at keeping his mask up, but here it was, slipping away from him so easily, “I hate it. I hate it so much.”
The truth was so foreign on his tongue, but it tasted so good. To spill the rot inside of him, to expose his decaying core, to finally reveal the tortured soul who breathed inside the skin of this Avgin carcass; maybe this was what freedom felt like. Falling through the air and knowing he would be caught - that was what he felt then with Ratio.
Or maybe he was just drunk.
… It didn’t matter.
What he wanted was Ratio and goddamit, Aventurine would get what he fucking wanted for once.
Aventurine refused to waste precious seconds; a prisoner like him had no time to spare on desperate matters like these. If Diamond so much as felt like it, he could be hung tomorrow morning. Aventurine’s entire life hinged on the impulses of that man. Who was to say that tomorrow would be his unlucky day?
The door shut behind him as Aventurine grabbed the doctor by his jacket, pulling him down so he could reach his lips. It only took a second for Ratio to recover from the shock before he kissed back with the same ferocity that Aventurine kissed him with. He tasted of alcohol; Aventurine recognised the exact kind. It was that luxurious wine they were serving at the ball, strong and velvety. He chased the taste with his tongue, trying to steal every last drop that lingered in his mouth. When they pulled away, Ratio’s hot breaths met his face, smelling of alcohol. Aventurine could only imagine he smelled the same, if not stronger.
He grabbed a fistful of Ratio’s hair, an earlier whim finally enacted, the whine Ratio involuntarily let out only serving to excite him more. His hair was everything he thought it was; thick and smooth, strands slipping through his fingers like silk. Aventurine’s firm grip was an anchor pulling Ratio towards him, chaining them together. He pressed his lips to Ratio’s ear.
“They have taken everything from me,” Aventurine panted - he couldn’t help it, he was still breathless from earlier, “And now, you will take the scraps they left behind.”
Ratio nodded, and for the third time that night, Aventurine was fumbling as he tried to find his keycard, desperate to get his way.
◇─◇──◇─◇
5)
“You did what?”
“I said don’t get mad.”
Ratio breathed in and out, pinching the bridge of his nose, “No, no. I’m not mad. Just…”
“Just…?”
“Annoyed.”
“So you are mad.”
“It’s only fair,” Ratio defended, “We spent weeks trying to book you that particular room. The Reverie Hotel staff know us by voice now,” Ratio sighed, closing his book and crossing his arms, “All that effort and you gave your room to a Nameless girl?”
Aventurine shrugged and took off his hat, tossing it onto the coffee table between them. Ratio’s hotel room was identical to his, but he couldn’t deny it; there was a special atmosphere in his lucky room that was absent in this one.
“I’ve told you before,” Aventurine pushed his sunglasses up - Ratio didn’t care for his eyes, unlike some of the people in Penacony who had already flashed him weird looks - and sat next to Ratio, leaning into him, “The Astral Express have a terrible habit of getting stuck in messes like these. Their influence is valuable.”
“And I’ve told you,” Ratio gave him a pointed glare, as if he was upset Aventurine was invading his personal space. A facade if Aventurine had ever seen one; Ratio made no effort to move or push him away, “The Nameless may have inordinate skill and power, but associating with them is a risk I doubt even you could pull off, dear gambler.”
“Is this a dare?”
“Perhaps.”
Aventurine chuckled, “We’ll sort the bet out later. I’m not here just to see you, you know.”
“Interesting,” Ratio put down his book, an action Aventurine had recently learned meant he had Ratio’s full attention, “With your meaningless visits to my office, an outlier like this is unexpected. What do you need from me?”
“A room.”
“A room?”
“Yep. Specifically, your room.”
“What? Why would- Oh,” Ratio stared at him, unimpressed, “You’re asking if you can sleep in my room for the remainder of this trip.”
“So smart,” Aventurine cooed.
“Are there no other rooms?”
“None at all. They’re all booked out for the Charmony Festival.”
“Then I suppose you can stay,” Ratio reached out to grab his book, but Aventurine slapped his hand away.
“There’s a catch.”
Ratio groaned.
“I can’t simply move into your room just like that. The staff are getting annoying about where I’ll be staying since all the rooms are full, so,” Aventurine flashed Ratio a grin, “It might be in our best interest to play house.”
“I don’t have the time to solve your riddles. Say it.”
“You’re my boyfriend for as long as we stay in Penacony. For housekeeping reasons, of course,” Aventurine added the latter part hastily after watching Ratio’s eyes go wide.
Ratio coughed, his gaze trained on the book he was reading. Were Aventurine’s eyes tricking him, or could he see the faintest blush?
“If you believe this is a reasonable step in your plan, I see no problem.”
He fought the urge to expose him. Aventurine also believed the interference of the Nameless was necessary for his success, yet just a few minutes ago Ratio scolded him for that very same decision. Interesting.
“You’re easier to convince than I expected,” a hand slithered down to Ratio’s thigh, keeping him locked there with a firm grip, “Are you growing fond of me, professor?” He asked the question mockingly, but part of him yearned for an actual answer. After their nights together, surely Ratio at least felt something towards him too.
“Do anything unnecessary and I will not hesitate to kick you out,” Ratio fired back. Another lie, Aventurine figured, based on how he was still allowed in his personal space - hand on thigh, no less. If he truly earned his distaste, Aventurine would be running out of the room as chalk flew at him.
“Strictly obeying our needs is no fun. We’re in Penacony, learn to indulge a little bit.”
“Being around you is indulgence enough.”
“Because you love my presence?” Aventurine leaned forward, a cheeky smile growing on his lips.
“... Because you are a gambler,” Ratio deadpanned, “You only wear designer, you smell like an entire perfumery, and you have multiple copies of the same expensive gold rings for no reason.”
“Okay, point taken,” Aventurine put his hands up in mock defeat, frowning as the mood was completely ruined, “Now come with me to the lobby so we can arrange our situation. Remember, you’re my boyfriend for now. So act like one.”
Thankfully, Alley asked no questions about why a couple would book two separate rooms and only move in together when convenient. She was suspicious, though; Aventurine saw how her eyes narrowed as she looked at them. Then she searched something up and allowed the transfer to go through.
Whether it was whatever she searched up that got them through or Aventurine hugging Ratio’s arm for the entirety of the interaction, it didn’t matter. As long as he had a hotel room, he had access to the Dreamscape, and he could get his job done.
What was interesting was how good Ratio was at his new job.
All he needed was to be able to point at him and for him to agree that he was real and he was his partner - yet Ratio went all out.
For all of his earlier coldness, Ratio was warming up to his position rather nicely. If anything, he was being unnecessarily compliant with it. Fake dating, especially for something as trivial as a hotel room, did not require Ratio to hold his hand the entire trip from Ratio’s room to the lobby. Was Alley going to be sharing their elevator to check if there was a romantic spark between them? No - the act was only needed when management was poking around. Yet their fingers stayed interlocked until it was necessary to let go.
Not that Aventurine was complaining. He liked the soft palm touching his, the firm hold on him keeping him by Ratio’s side. Something he was much more hesitant to admit was how much Aventurine loved the idea that any random passerby saw them as a couple. To think that Ratio and he were lovers on vacation instead of coworkers with benefits on a business trip had a warm, undefinable feeling rising in his chest.
Even now, Ratio was going above and beyond what he had to. They were sitting on the couch, waiting for Alley to tell them when their rooming situation was solved, and Ratio snaked his arm around Aventurine, his hand settling on his waist.
Very unprofessional, Aventurine thought but never said; if his teasing made Ratio retract his arm Aventurine would never forgive himself.
He looked up at the doctor, who was reading the book from earlier. His pretty eyes moved as he read the lines, completely entranced by whatever those words were saying.
Aventurine leaned in, head on Ratio’s shoulder. A gamble. Yes, that was what that move was. A gamble to see if-
Ratio didn’t look up from his book, but he did feel the grip on his waist tighten, pulling him a fraction closer than he already was.
… Maybe he was fond of Aventurine.
It made sense. Aventurine barged into his office multiple times for no reason other than to bother him and he had never once been kicked out. An incredible feat, considering Ratio’s intense work ethic and preference for silence. Not only that, but they did eat together quite often. If their breaks coincided, then Ratio would sometimes suggest a nearby cafe he was fond of, or Aventurine would drag him to the dessert shop a few blocks down. And perhaps it spoke more of Aventurine’s troubled experiences than it did of Ratio’s (possible) affections, but Ratio was achingly gentle in bed. He was all delicate caresses, soft whispers, and chaste kisses, much to Aventurine’s delight.
So maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he caught Ratio’s eye.
There was so much evidence to the claim, but so little reason. For every single time Aventurine found himself wondering if Ratio’s feelings ran deeper than he claimed came the question of why. Ratio may be the closest person in Aventurine’s life at that moment - he out of everyone should know that Aventurine was nothing more than an extension of the IPC. Whatever remained of the soul that inhabited his body was in tatters now, so there was nothing to love, anyway.
Whatever feeling he was chasing with Ratio - this affection and tenderness - was as hollow and fast-lived as the thrill of risk in gambling, the highs of drunkenness, the pleasure of sex.
Aventurine closed his eyes, his breathing subconsciously matching Ratio’s as he felt the rise and fall of his chest.
It didn’t matter if love existed between them. They would be doomed if Aventurine’s plan came to fruition. So he might as well have his fun while he was still around.
◇─◇──◇─◇
+1
Everything hurt.
It was a terrible pain that spread like fire the more awake Aventurine became. Each blink intensified the pain flaring up under his skin, his brain growing foggy as he reeled from the agony.
But through the pain, Aventurine understood one thing.
He was not supposed to be alive.
He was the final bargaining chip, the final bet. A bet he knew he would lose - who could go up against Acheron and survive - yet he was here.
Breathing. Suffering, but breathing.
The room he was in was nice at least. A surprisingly big television sat in the top corner of the room, playing Clockie cartoons. Warm yellow lights invited him to go back to sleep, but the pain said no to that. An IV drip sat upright next to him, a bedside stand decorated with his hat, sunglasses, and nothing else. The blanket was thick for a hospital blanket, and the bed was surprisingly cozy.
He touched him before he saw him. As Aventurine straightened his back, his hand brushed against locks of hair. He thought he was going insane - there was nobody else there - but then Aventurine looked down at his side.
A red armchair was pulled up right next to Aventurine’s bed. Slumped over, using his arms as a pillow on the bed, was Veritas Ratio. He was asleep, completely unaware of Aventurine’s waking.
Without thinking, Aventurine began running his hand through Ratio’s hair, savouring the familiarity of it. It was slightly different though - Ratio’s hair was oilier than he’d ever seen it before. Honestly, Aventurine didn’t know Ratio’s hair, much like the rest of him, was anything less than perfect until then. As he pushed violet hair back, Aventurine could see Ratio’s face. The red eyeliner that accentuated his eyes was gone, replaced by tear tracks from his eye, running down his cheek, and staining the bed.
Aventurine wiped at Ratio’s eyes. That small action must have been rougher than intended because Ratio jolted awake in seconds.
“Aventurine,” Ratio said. Amber eyes were wide as they stared at him, taking in the sight. Aventurine could only imagine what he looked like; bandaged, dirty, messy.
“Morning, Ratio,” Aventurine smiled. He didn’t need a mirror to know his smile must have looked awful.
“Aventurine.”
There was no time to prepare himself for the arms thrown around him, gripping him like he was in danger of slipping away right then in there. As Aventurine was buried in Ratio’s shoulder, he noticed the lack of the floral scent he was so fond of in his soap. Aventurine weakly rubbed circles on Ratio’s back, ignoring his observations for the sake of his peace of mind.
“You idiot,” Ratio mumbled, “To put your life on the line? How stupid must you be?”
He could feel it. Ratio’s hands moving around his back, patting him to make sure he was really there.
“To risk your life for this project…” Ratio trailed off as he pulled away, and Aventurine shifted uncomfortably; he couldn’t bear to look into those watery eyes, “Useless. Utterly useless.”
“It was the only way-”
“We both know that’s not true,” Ratio’s hands were sliding over his own, tracing shapes on his hand, working his way up until bandages appeared. That scar from the embezzler all those months ago; Ratio’s index finger grazed over it, going up and down, up and down. “Dear gambler, I understand we don’t think the same way but…” Ratio refused to meet Aventurine’s gaze, instead averting his gaze to Aventurine’s arm, “All life is valuable. Including yours.”
“You say that but-” They’re dead. Every last one of them is dead.
“I know,” Ratio’s thumb drew circles in his palm, a sweet yet solemn action, “But despite everything you’ve experienced, you still live. Isn’t that worth protecting? If their lives have value, then why shouldn’t yours?”
Aventurine didn’t respond. What was there to respond with? That he simply didn’t feel like living anymore?
Every breath he spent without answering Ratio’s question felt like a lifetime.
“... I’m sorry, Ratio.”
“Don’t be,” Ratio held his hand, their fingers intertwining, “I should’ve known you would pull something as inane as this.”
“I just woke up, and you’re already so mean to me,” Aventurine pouted. Deep inside, he was glad that part of Ratio stayed the same, even at a time like this. “How long was I out?”
“Two days, if you round down.”
“Shit,” Aventurine sank down into his fluffy pillows. A million questions were racing in his head - the fate of the Nameless, Acheron, Black Swan, whether or not his plan succeeded. Obviously not that last one; if he was alive, he failed. Would the IPC accept his failure?
A squeeze of his hand brought him back to the present. Aventurine could only relax in Ratio’s concerned gaze as he redirected his thoughts to the situation at hand.
“Were you here the whole time?”
“... I was here frequently.”
He’s so obvious, Aventurine thought. He was looking worse than Aventurine had ever seen him before. Maybe it was because of Aventurine playing with his hair earlier, but his hair was messy and going in all the wrong directions. His clothes were haphazardly worn, sashes carelessly draped over his shoulder and golden laurel close to falling. Guilt ate at him. Surely Ratio wasn’t stupid enough to neglect himself.
But the more Aventurine looked at his tired eyes, it became clear he did do something that stupid for him.
What an idiot.
Aventurine resolved himself. If Ratio was going to be so kind as to wait for him to wake, then he would do the only thing he could think of to comfort him.
“Alright,” Aventurine moved over, wincing from the slight pain it caused, “Get in.”
“... What?”
“Get in,” Aventurine gestured at the free space next to him, “The way you were sleeping before can’t be comfortable at all.”
“That bed is a single bed.”
“We can squeeze in.”
“Aventurine, it’s fine. I’m not tired.”
“Well, I am. And it would be nice to have someone next to me while I sleep.”
“I, um,” hesitation was unnatural on Ratio’s tongue - it had Aventurine snapping his head back in shock that Ratio could get embarrassed, “I haven’t bathed in a while,” Ratio admitted, his hands playing with his sash.
Aventurine laughed, “I haven’t either. Hurry up and get in, I won’t judge you.”
“While I’m not certain, I am sure that this is a breach-”
“Get in before I change my mind.”
Ratio got on the bed. He settled in the space next to him, but with the bed being so small Ratio and Aventurine ended up pressed against each other. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sure, Aventurine would have liked more room, but at the end of the day if this was where he had to be for Ratio’s arms to be wrapped around him, then he would deal with it.
A faint kiss on his head caught his attention, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“Aventurine. For what it counts,” Ratio paused. Aventurine felt his Adam’s apple bob before he continued, “I love you.”
He felt his breath hitch upon hearing those words.
So Aventurine was right about Ratio’s feelings.
Aventurine’s hand tightened around Ratio’s sash as he pulled himself closer until there was no space between them. He wanted to see his face. Was he red and embarrassed? Was he smiling and sincere? Was he tense and scared about what Aventurine had to say next? The best Aventurine could do from his position was to press his fingers against his chest to feel his heartbeat. It thumped loudly against his fingers, and Aventurine chuckled. He pressed his forehead against him.
Anyone with a speck of intelligence would know not to intertwine themselves with a fool like him. The list went on and on; he was destined to die, an IPC slave, a reckless gambler. Aventurine himself wasn’t sure what lay beyond expensive clothes and saccharine lies anymore.
Yet here Ratio was, one of the smartest people across all the stars, keen on making this stupid decision.
Aventurine gave in. Who was Aventurine, the notoriously impulsive and careless gambler, to stop Ratio from doing something dumb?
“I love you too, Ratio.”