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Sharing a bath is a relatively new development. Ratio likes his space, and Aventurine knows that both preparing and enjoying a bath is like a ritual to help Ratio unwind, after a stressful day.
Initially, neither Aventurine nor Ratio used to linger after one of their tryst. They were hasty, as if the moment they slowed down, what they shared would shatter like glass. Ratio was the first to try to shift their habits — and Aventurine still remembers how terribly he reacted the first time Ratio tried to caress his scars. He'd all but forgotten how to recognize, much less accept, a gentler touch.
Then, there was Penacony. After they returned from the Sweet Dream — after Ratio enveloped him in his arms and hugged him tight, after making sure he was alive, safe — the lines delineating their partnership got even blurrier.
He doesn’t know when their life took a turn for the domestic, but Aventurine isn’t going to lament his luck — he’s going to clutch this sweet blessing in his trembling hands for as long as he’s allowed to keep it.
Now, Aventurine is confident enough to at least recognize the progress they’ve made.
For one, even if he still waits covered in a fluffy robe, Aventurine doesn’t mind sharing a bath with Ratio — more than that, he relishes in his doctor’s attention.
As he so often does in these situations, Aventurine leans against the closed bathroom door — it’d be disastrous if the cat cakes fell, again, in the water — and observes Ratio. From his position, Aventurine has a clear view of his bare back, how his muscles flex as he pulls back the cute bath curtains decorated with silly yellow ducks wearing different hats, and then how he bends forward to open the water jet and run the bath, before straightening up to select the oils and soaps to use.
“No rose petals?” Aventurine asks, pulling a mock-sulking expression, complete with lip biting, the moment Ratio turns around to tut at him.
“The jar is right next to you,” he says, completely serious. “Feel free to add them yourself.”
Aventurine waits for Ratio to enter the bath and lean on its side, before throwing the aforementioned petals in the water. Then, swiftly, he drops his fluffy robe and enters the bath himself, taking precautions not to spill any water on the floor.
Aventurine settles right in front of Ratio, letting their legs intertwine with each other’s.
Sometimes, he’s surprised by how strongly he’s come to anticipate these moments. Before Ratio, he didn’t use to indulge in baths like this — a quick shower was enough and more efficient, and it also lessened the time he spent completely bare.
He never said as much to Ratio, but Aventurine suspects the good doctor is better at reading him than most. Case in point, the fluffy pink robe Ratio gifted him. Another is the fact that, with every bath they share, the quantity of bubbles keeps increasing, much to Aventurine's amusement.
“Let me wash your hair!” Aventurine says, scooting towards Ratio and slotting himself between his legs. He picks up a rose petal sticking to Ratio’s chest and plaster it to his nose, laughing merrily when Ratio scrunches up his nose and huffs, sending the petal flying over Aventurine’s lips.
“I’ll take the kiss!” he jokes, still laughing.
“Dear gambler, I see you’re in a good mood,” Ratio says, flinging the petal away before kissing Aventurine properly. “Let's go with the lavender shampoo.”
Aventurine feels his lips stretching into a wide smile, surprising even himself. After he returned from the Nihility, he’d felt as if the ghost of apathy followed him everywhere, making him unbearably tired and perpetually numb.
Ratio has stayed by his side every step of the way — just thinking about this makes him fear his heart will burst with a pathetic pop.
After indulging in one more kiss, Aventurine takes the chosen bottle of shampoo and pours a generous quantity on his hands, before rubbing it between his palms.
Then, he shifts his legs to kneel down on the bathtub to reach Ratio’s hair, suppressing any sound as he feels Ratio’s hands settle on his hips. Lately, Ratio’s hands are always terribly soft and delicate on his body, and Aventurine has still to fight the old instincts to flinch away from any comforting touch. It’s unexpected, yet he hopes Ratio won’t ever stop, even as those hands lay too close to many old scars of his.
He ignores it all — and his thundering heart — focusing on washing Ratio’s hair.
The more he rubs, the more bubbles fall down Ratio’s head, landing dangerously close to his now closed eyes.
“Gambler… what are you doing?”
“Hm?” he suppresses his chuckles, smearing some of the bubbles over Ratio’s nose.
“…Gambler.”
“Yes—ah!”
Suddenly, Ratio leans forward, invading Aventurine’s space to the point the only reason he doesn’t fall on his butt is due to Ratio’s hands tightening their hold over his hips.
“Ratio?!” Aventurine exclaims, voice shrill, as he feels Ratio rubs their noses together, making a mess with the bubbles now over both their noses and cheeks.
“Now we’re even.”
“Doctor, I didn’t know you’d it in you!”
Then, with that endearingly blunt tone of his, Ratio takes Aventurine’s heart in his hands and squeezes. “You’re smiling and laughing more as of late, I’m glad.”
“Y-you—you can’t just—” at a loss for words — and with an increasingly smug look on Ratio’s face — Aventurine opens the water jet and drenches Ratio’s head. “Time to wash the shampoo away!” he exclaims, his voice still too loud.
Surprisingly, Ratio makes no offended remark, only muttering about the timing, then letting Aventurine rinse the shampoo out of his hair twice, before applying the conditioner.
“Now it’s my turn,” Ratio says, after Aventurine finishes. “Which shampoo do you prefer?”
When they first started spending more time in each other’s places, Ratio helped him curate his own beauty products, scandalised to learn what Aventurine considered his bath-time routine. Now, Aventurine possesses five different bath products kits for his specific type of hair, all in different fragrances.
Aventurine had been completely at a loss when Ratio explained the process, but seeing Ratio so hyped and bright-eyed about bath products and listening to him explain the differences in fragrances and ingredients made it impossible for Aventurine not to cave in.
“Let’s go with lavender, too.”
Seeing Ratio leans over him — caging him against the side of the bathtub — makes his heart flip for entirely inappropriate reasons. Ratio banned sex in the bathtub after Aventurine slipped and nearly cut his head open on the marble, and no amount of reassurance, persuasion and jokes had so far made the good doctor change his mind — the jokes probably didn’t help his case, but Aventurine was at a loss.
He closes his eyes, humming lightly as he feels Ratio’s hands run through his hair, gentling massaging his scalp.
“Doctor…” he sighs, thank you.
“Keep your eyes closed, I’m going to rinse the shampoo out,” Ratio warns him.
Aventurine is prepared, enjoying how tender Ratio’s hands feel, as they caress down his neck and shoulders to scoop up the extra soap.
“Are you hurt?” Ratio asks, so suddenly, Aventurine opens his eyes startled.
“What are you talking about, Ratio?” he asks, frowning.
Then, he sees where Ratio’s eyes are focused on — his chest. More specifically, the area between his collarbones and chest, where Aventurine is rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions.
He hasn’t noticed — and he feels so ridiculous for that.
“No, I—there’s nothing, really,” he says, aware he sounds completely unconvincing. However, Ratio doesn’t say anything, simply waiting for him to continue. “I mean, you could say the fact that there’s nothing is the problem.”
“Oh, I see.” — Bless Ratio and his understanding. — “Your body is still remembering the Emanator of Nihility’s slash.”
Aventurine doubts his body will ever forget, though before his trip in the Nihility, his mind did a better job at pushing away any unwanted thought associated to his body.
“Hm. You could say that.”
“Can I?” Ratio asks, his voice thick with an emotion Aventurine can’t quite interpret, though he knows it’ll replay in his head, every time he closes his eyes.
He nods, taking Ratio’s hand in his.
Ratio’s hand shakes terribly under his palm, as it maps the area that should be scarred — that would be, if it weren’t all a dream.
He doesn’t know how to feel about Ratio having watched the show he put on in Penacony — seeing him getting slashed and then having to wait, hoping Aventurine’s luck would pay off once more.
“I never said it, but…” Aventurine murmurs, clasping his hand over Ratio’s. “Thank you, for your note,” for always being there.
“Of course, dear gambler,” Ratio says, his voice still filled with emotions Aventurine can’t — isn’t sure how to — name. “I’m here. Now let me finish rinsing off your shampoo.”
Aventurine genuinely feels as if his heart is going to get stuck in his throat — Ratio can’t keep getting away with this. He needs to say something.
He wets his lips, ready to offer a cheeky quip, when a desperate screech — followed by Ratio groaning — breaks his concentration and the mood. That, followed by the door crushing open and a pile of three guilty cat cakes rolling on the floor, is enough to remind Aventurine that their very sweet kids get terribly sad and desperate whenever ignored, in particular if behind a closed door.