Work Text:
“Woah!”
Ratio doesn’t startle. But he looks up from his work to the door, his shielded eyes meeting Aventurine’s own.
He frowns for a moment, and remembers the pinging of notifications he ignored an hour ago, along with the spare key in Aventurine’s possession. He supposes he has no one but himself to blame.
“Aventurine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I texted you that I was coming. You didn't respond, if you could recall.”
That does not answer Ratio’s question at all. Which means Aventurine will divert and dodge for however long it takes for Ratio to drop it, and he certainly couldn't be bothered to entertain that song and dance during his leisure hours.
“Right,” he says, with enough scorn to scare away most clear-minded individuals. Aventurine is no such person. “If you could inform me of your reasoning for being here, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
Aventurine doesn't reply to that either. It’s starting to irk Ratio. “That doesn't matter right now. What are you doing?”
The grumble that escapes him holds little weight to it, but he returns the rotary drill in his hand to its rightful place in his rack of tools. “I’m carving marble. It’s a hobby I indulge in quite often.”
Aventurine takes in the studio with a glint of wonder, darting from the shelves of supplies to the statues lined up by the window to the holographic display beside an amorphous block of marble in the middle of the room. Ratio steps back from his work, the drop cloth lining the ground crinkling beneath his boots.
“You’re sculpting… yourself?”
Ratio can’t help but raise an eyebrow. Between the statues he’s constantly summoning as taunts in battle and the hologram of himself, he hadn't thought that it would be necessary to point it out.
“Okay, now you’re judging me,” Aventurine huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “I didn't think you actually carved those statues yourself.”
“I had to draw inspiration from somewhere. These sculptures are something I’m well-acquainted with.”
His current project is still in its developing stages, following the shapes and lines of his form roughly. The holographic image produced leaves little to query—he had spent more time deciding on a pose than he usually would, even switching out of his usual clothing to a himation. The knelt pose contrasts with the rest of his works, his hands cupped above his lowered head.
Aventurine is still staring at said hologram, which— Well, Ratio isn't one to lose himself in inessential emotions such as shame, but Aventurine is much too focused on the reference and not the art piece; he doesn't need Aventurine unpacking the notion of it before he can do it himself.
Summoning his codex, Ratio turns off the projection with a sharp tap. “If I ask you again about the reason for your presence in my home, would you be more inclined to reply?”
Aventurine, as usual, chooses the least preferable answer. “Don't worry about it. How accurate are these statues to its muse?”
Ratio contemplates kicking him out. Unfortunately, his affections for Aventurine—after an embarrassingly overdue revelation in his room at the Reverie Hotel—surpasses his annoyance, and Ratio only shakes his head with a sigh.
“It’s lifesize. I take great care in the precision of the details of my being.”
“Such as the details of your biceps and abs. Very modest,” Aventurine says. He takes the opportunity to step further into the studio as Ratio pulls off his apron, his attention now on the completed statues at the side.
“I’ve never said I was humble. And the shapes of my muscles are not exaggerated.” Ratio rolls his eyes, placing the goggles and folded apron on the shelf. He should be more annoyed by the interruption, but— Ugh, Ratio doesn't need to delve into the fluttering warmth in his stomach.
He picks up his phone to check the notifications on the home screen—seven messages from Aventurine, warning Ratio of his eventual presence in five-minute intervals. Scrolling through his social media and sending out his usual pragmatic advice, he keeps watching Aventurine from the corner of his eye as the gambler examines the closest statue.
Ratio glances back at his phone to check the time. “Will you be staying for dinner? I can cook, or we can order something from the pasta place you like.”
“Mm, you can decide. What’s with the poses?”
Pocketing his phone, Ratio tilts his head up and groans. Aventurine has a hand on the waist of one of the statues, the other running along the curves of its flexed arm with a gloved finger. Heat rises to his face; Ratio fights the itch to summon his headpiece to hide his expression.
“They’re—” Aventurine glides his hand up the stone robe, to the neck of the statue. Intimate, is the first word that comes to mind. Ratio burns from the inside.
“Stop caressing my statue,” he hisses, futilely hoping his voice doesn't waver. “It’s marble. Your flirtations don't affect inanimate objects, unless you have a new ability to introduce to me.”
Aventurine cocks his head back to grin at Ratio, his hand over Ratio’s—the statue’s—cheek. “Well, the sculpture’s obviously not going to respond.”
Ratio doesn't look away as Aventurine leans towards its face, balancing on his toes to brush a featherlight kiss on where Ratio’s lips would be. The blush tinting his face is evident now; Ratio starts to wish he was also made of stone, and it's definitely not because he wants to switch places with his own creation.
“The sculpture won’t, but perhaps its muse will,” Aventurine hums. He doesn't turn around—he doesn’t need to. Ratio can’t prevent the distressed noise from escaping his throat as Aventurine rests his head on its chest, hand trailing down the damned statue’s neck—down his collarbones to his chest—feeling it up so exuberantly that it makes Ratio light-headed.
The pleased hum sends shudders up his spine, like sunlight bearing down on bare skin. Ratio doesn’t shy away from the humiliating warmth; his eyes are trained on Aventurine as he explores the expanse of the statue’s figure with flitting strokes, jealousy and greed unrelenting, even as he tries to shift his sight towards the window.
Leaving should be simple enough, yet his feet are nailed to the grit-soiled floor, unable to pull away from Aventurine’s presence. Ratio pulls himself out of his delirium, clearing his throat before he says, “That’s— You’ve made your point, Aventurine. Leave the sculpture be.”
“Have I really?”
Ratio grieves the last of his sanity as Aventurine drops to a knee and raises his head, the same way he imagines his ongoing creation would, and sings, “Shouldn't a statue be worshipped?”
Watching Aventurine curl his arms around the legs—it’s Ratio’s legs, carved as precisely as the human eye can see—Ratio can almost feel the warmth, the ache in his chest growing tremendously deeper. He’s no stranger to desire, yet the desperation he feels is almost unrecognisable to himself.
“Aventurine,” Ratio says, reverently pleading. He should be the one on his knees, head bowed low at Aventurine’s feet like a faithful devotee. Instead, he stares, with his heart in his throat, as Aventurine’s hands are splayed around the statue’s hips so blithely that Ratio thinks he might be dreaming.
Aeons, save him. Aventurine is creeping inwards, drumming his fingers languidly as he reaches for—
Ratio doesn't think he can survive a moment of this any longer. By the blessing of whatever Aeon that heard him, Ratio finally steps forward with a slight stumble with his hands fisted at his side.
“You win, Aventurine,” he growls, his hand moving down to Aventurine’s shoulder on instinct. Ratio does his best not to look down, a strenuous endeavour when he has Aventurine by his feet. “Whatever is it that you want from me—”
“I don't seem to have gotten it,” Aventurine finishes—interrupts—his words, smirk playing on his lips as he tilts his head up. His hair glows under the sunlight, the gleam of gold like a halo crowning his head. “But this works too.”
Ratio has never been one to be easily distracted. Yet, his hand wanders towards the tilt of Aventurine's head unwittingly, fingers brushing the soft skin of Aventurine's cheek.
“You’re losing your touch, doctor.”
Ratio almost flinches. Almost. “I disagree. It is clearly you that is the basis for my unusual agitation.”
The grin that Aventurine shoots him is blinding; Ratio struggles between looking away and capturing those lips with his own. The thought comes along so frequently that he no longer has to bury his face in his hands in shame, but Ratio shoves it away all the same.
“Oh? A man could take your words the wrong way, you know.”
Ratio frowns, heat rising to his cheeks at being mocked. He’s never tried to conceal his fondness, after finding himself unable to procure a balance of affability and indifference without coming off as skittish. Along with his humiliating performance in a certain interview set up by the gambler—which has garnered too much attention to his liking—Ratio is under the impression that Aventurine is well aware of his feelings.
“That’s… unsurprising.” Ratio glances away for a second, before reverting his eyes to Aventurine. “If you’re done fondling my… sculpture, please get off the floor. You’re getting shavings all over your clothes.”
Aventurine blinks, but allows Ratio to pull him up. His forearm is lithe in Ratio’s grip; he should start on dinner soon.
“Eh? Don’t try to change the subject.” Ratio’s eyes widen as Aventurine drags him in, chests pressed together as Aventurine topples towards him.
Aventurine is sharp—hunting for weakness, snagging onto his prey with a vice-like grip. Ratio finds himself as the unfortunate victim of the day, magenta and cyan drilling into his skin.
“I was doing no such thing,” Ratio lies, a poor attempt at protecting his dignity. The heat of Aventurine against him diminishes his ability to think, but his hand instinctively finds the small of Aventurine's back, feeling the rumbling of his laugh.
It would be too simple to lean in—yet it’s too daunting of a thought. Ratio draws back, despite every nerve in his body shrieking at him not to, allowing Aventurine to make his move. Holding Aventurine close, but not close enough to satiate the yearning within.
He doesn’t mind living like this, if it means having Aventurine in his vicinity, smiling so brightly under the setting sun.
“Come on, get yourself cleaned up.”