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Aventurine’s luck has often aided him no matter the venture undertaken. Be it in gambling his money or his life, in snapping up a promotion or finding a four-leaf clover, it would seem Mama Fenge persisted in gracing him with her blessings regardless of his wishes.
So when he trips on his own feet (a rare thing, such clumsiness) on the way to Dr. Veritas Ratio’s table in the IPC Strategic Investment Department’s lounge, he doesn’t quite panic as he does blank out—because it’s unlike him to be so indeliberate in his carelessness, and it’s unlike his usual fortune to desert him like this now, of all times.
Then Dr. Ratio catches him, hand to his arm, while Aventurine’s outside hand catches onto the edge of the table between them. He manages to hold his own weight so he doesn’t fall forward completely, but, alas—
Mama Fenge can be so cruel in granting wishes, because while Aventurine doesn’t fall into Ratio, their lips still meet in between.
His lips are so soft. He’s definitely using lip balm, because there’s no way those lips could be so naturally smooth like that.
He blinks, and dons a smile the moment he pulls back. He plays the part of the confident, fearless gambler he’s always been as he takes a seat, even with his heart in his throat and thump-thumping a deafening symphony in his ears.
Smoothly, as if on autopilot, he says, “Sorry about that, doctor. I don’t know what came over me all of a sudden.”
“The clumsiness is uncharacteristic of you, I agree,” Ratio replies, those cat-like eyes of his narrowed in suspicion. Aventurine finds himself a little disappointed that Ratio isn’t as flustered as he’d been when Owlbert had interviewed him in that one show, but takes satisfaction in seeing the growing flush to pale ears. The man continues, “Hence my disbelief in this being unplanned. Or could it be, your lucky streak has failed you now?”
Aventurine laughs, a breathless little thing. It’s so easy to deal with his superiors, with subordinates, with clients and everyone else in between, because they’re often predictable. They need him, they use him, and he uses them in return. But it’s different, with Ratio—because he has no need for Aventurine, yet he respects the value of Aventurine’s life anyway.
It’s why the man is so often disappointed with him, he knows. He’s not an erudite, as far as Veritas Ratio is concerned, but he’s no fool; he can at least tell that a major source of Ratio’s constant disappointment in him is his utter disrespect for the value of his own life.
But, what can he do, when it’s the one thing in his grasp that he can always reliably gamble?
“Has it? When I find myself quite lucky to have kissed someone so well-respected,” he murmurs. The noise outside of their little bubble is slowly trickling into his consciousness, letting him know that the clumsy show he’d put on had been visible to more than one person.
Would it be selfish of him to feel pleased at the notion that people saw him kiss Ratio? That, despite it being accidental in nature, Veritas Ratio himself wasn’t furious enough to push him away?
Let those people think what they want. Should Ratio put up a complaint on what people may think, Aventurine could always buy those people off anyway.
“You should feel honored,” Ratio says, a hint of a weary sigh in his voice as he opens his book. A potential nervous habit, Aventurine notes, with the way he doesn’t always read through the pages as he does just fiddle with them at times. “Though it matters not, I’m certain there are others who are of a mindset so antediluvian they would believe that first times are significant.”
Aventurine’s eyes practically bulge out of his head with how widely he opens them. “Excuse me? You—are you saying that was your first kiss?”
Dr. Ratio frowns at him. Aventurine is sure; if it had been anyone else making such a comment, Ratio would have already donned his bust in annoyance. Call him a C-rank student at best, but Aventurine can safely say that Dr. Ratio has not worn his bust around him ever since their mission on Penacony. That means something, and the notion that he refrains from wearing one now…
“Is there a problem?” Dr. Ratio asks. He’s no longer looking up, as he is just staring, hard, at the codex in his hands. “If so, you may refrain from bringing it up, as I will not entertain any further questions or exclamations of disbelief.”
He laughs. What a typical way to evade questions, as expected of Dr. Ratio. “Well, can you blame me? I know you’ve always been focused on your goal to educate the masses, but I hadn’t thought it would go so far as to…well, include passing up on the simple pleasures of life.”
“No one has held my interest enough to be considered worthy of such a thing.”
“And you aren’t angry that I stole your first kiss from you?”
“Whatever it is you wish to hear, I assure you, I am not going to engage your asinine whims,” Ratio says, shaking his head. “Was there anything else you wished to tell me that holds actual significance, or do you plan to waste my time with more inane inquiries?”
“I got promoted! Seeing as I owe you plenty for said promotion, I wanted to take you out for dinner. That is,” he pauses with an unsure smile, “if you’ll still be amenable to it after that little accident?”
“It was hardly that much of an inconvenience,” Ratio huffs, brows furrowed in irritation. “Your repeated allusions to such a small incident begs the question: was it, in fact, significant to you?”
“If I say that it is?”
“Then I would call you pathetic,” Ratio retorts bluntly, having spoken the moment that last syllable left Aventurine’s mouth. “Anything else?”
“Ah, I can’t help noticing…you’re blushing, doctor.”
Those sharp eyes widen in shock, blinking twice at him in disbelief. Veritas Ratio is a beautiful man, this is an undeniable fact, but Aventurine finds it a pity that some people miss out on how adorable he can be just because of his stature and reputation. Ratio sputters, “Gambler, is there nothing else truthful and of value that you can say? I—”
“Your lips are also quite soft, it makes me wonder what lip balm you must be using,” he cuts in, smiling brightly despite the glare being shot his way. “Mind sharing?”
“...it’s a personal formula. Am I to presume that you would like to know the source to acquire your own reserves? If so, I can direct you to my assistant, as she is the one coordinating with manufacturing.”
How blunt. And yet, quite cute with his immediate segue into a new topic instead of acknowledging that he is, in fact, blushing.
“There’s that, but, ah…it’s a shame,” he sighs. “I wanted to take note so I could gift you a basket in the future, but I suppose I should have known that you’d formulate your own lip balm. You did make that hand cream before.”
“Yes…I was told that someone bought a frankly ridiculous amount in one order,” Ratio says, frowning still. “You are aware that those things have an expiration date? I fail to see how you could manage using up all of them, unless you intend to give them all away as gifts.”
“Some are gifts, yes,” he agrees. “I also plan to leave some in storage.”
“...I do not wish to know the details,” Ratio says eventually, seeming baffled at the notion of his products being put into storage instead of used. “It is your money to do with as you will, even if I find your reasons… ludicrous.”
“Haha. But, doctor, did you know?”
Ratio regards him with a raised brow and narrowed eyes. With that sharp gaze of his so focused on Aventurine’s face, he misses just how hard Aventurine is clenching his fist under the table. Or, at least, that’s what Aventurine is hoping for. Ratio could be so unnecessarily keen at the most inconvenient of times, after all.
Ratio says, “I know much, but your tone implies that this is something I am unaware of. Speak.”
“I would have asked for your permission instead of coming up with a “planned accident” if I wanted to kiss you.”
There is a moment of silence.
Then, a sigh, as Ratio closes his eyes and his codex with a thunk. “Yes, I am aware. You may be sly, but you are not so disrespectful as to ignore consent.”
“That being said,” Aventurine immediately adds, smiling softly as he rests his chin on his hand, “would you allow me if I asked? Seeing as you weren’t as repulsed as I thought you’d be with the accident.”
“...pardon? You’re,” Ratio opens his eyes with a flutter of long lashes, blinking wide-eyed at him, “asking if I give you my consent to kiss me? What kind of game is this, Aventurine?”
“I guess you’d think I’m joking if I say it’s as risky as a life-or-death gamble,” he says, more honest than ever. “But, if that was your first kiss, then this is my first time confessing my feelings to someone. I figured I’d at least owe you that, even if you don’t find first times as significant.”
“...”
Aventurine smiles, even with the tremors running down his hands, his legs. He should keep quiet, allow Ratio the time to process, and himself the time to calm down.
He should, and yet.
“Well, doctor?” he asks. “Or is there something you’d like me to provide to sweeten the deal? Name it, and it’s yours.”
“You imply that I can be bought, which is hardly tempting for such a flimsy offer,” Ratio counters, frowning again.
“I think anyone can be bought with the right offer. I would know, after all—I’ve dealt with plenty of difficult clients, and have experienced being bought myself,” Aventurine retorts, smiling still. If he were Aventurine of Stratagems in this moment, then perhaps he would’ve softened his words, laced his promises with honey, as any respectable IPC employee would.
But right now, with Dr. Veritas Ratio facing him, he is only Kakavasha. And he knows, even without asking, that Dr. Ratio would prefer the blunt, painful truth of him than a sweet lie.
Still, he manages to slip in a little tease, “Right now, you could even buy my silence by kissing me.”
“...is that so?”
“That’s right. So, what do you think?”
“Hm.”
Ratio stands from his seat. He is silent, stoic—one would think him made of stone, if one had never witnessed him in his most contemptuous or irritable moments. His codex has been tucked away, and he walks past their table without even looking back. Just a flash of a second of his hand grazing Aventurine’s shoulder and Aventurine already feels his heart drop, his smile falling apart, because this wouldn’t be the first time that Dr. Ratio has walked away from him—even as a performance—but it still hurts.
Then a gloved hand grabs his chin, tipping his head up with a gentleness belying immense strength, and—
Dr. Veritas Ratio kisses him.
Aventurine’s glasses are askew on his face, and his eyes are wide with pure shock, but none of those things matter quite as much as Ratio’s plush lips pressed against his own, lingering for a second or two, before pulling away—or so Aventurine thinks, until he steals another two or three light kisses from his gaping mouth.
When Ratio pulls back, he has an eyebrow raised as if Aventurine’s shock is merely entertainment for him. As if he hadn’t just upended Aventurine’s entire world with a kiss, like it were just another day of stealing a kiss back from a man who kissed him first.
“Y-you…”
A finger presses against his lips before he can speak any further.
“I’ve kissed you, a bit more than once if I may add,” Ratio explains, looking down on him with the slightest of smirks as he pulls his finger away. “I’ll consider that as your silence bought for, hm…a week. I shall see you later for dinner, gambler.”
With that, he leaves. No looking back whatsoever, just a gentle wave of his left hand as he goes, taking Aventurine’s heart with him.
“...”
There is a gradual rise in volume of everyone’s murmuring, as if Dr. Ratio had been the only deterrent to everyone’s nosiness. There are squeals, groans of dismay, harsh whispers, a clinking of coins and the rustling of credits, and the ever-present reminder that Dr. Ratio is not just an educator, doctor, or scholar—he is also a celebrity, and one that could gain such polarizing opinions from the masses.
Aventurine can only remove his glasses to cover his face through all that noise, because what else is a man to do when he wants to keep his dignity in front of other IPC employees?
Oh, Veritas Ratio, you sly, handsome bastard.
He laughs to himself.
You stole far more than I could ever bring myself to ask for, doctor. And now, you owe me a debt of kisses that can never be fully paid.