Work Text:
Tonight, they said, would be a big night. All the snobbiest, most uptight members of the IPC, along with all the other cronies, gathered together in one place.
And tonight, in a corner of Topaz’s pompously done-up living room, sat the esteemed Dr. Ratio. He, for one, was not particularly in favour of the extensive courtesy or showy nature of events like these, and so his only option was to drift off into his own mind. However, as brilliant as one's mind may be, there are only so many things that one could muster up the inspiration to think about in situations like these. In a corner. Alone.
Well, how great. How wonderfully exciting.
Such was this exhilarating experience, that it had left him slouched miserably on some couch. Such a joy was Ratio’s situation that he had gradually begun to lose any sort of hope in spending his time meaningfully. It had already felt like hours of turning his head back and forth, his eyes gazing from person to person, trying to find something to take in, someone to analyse. Again, and again, and again, and again—face after face and noise after noise, everything was making less and less sense: does that young man know that the information he’s just spilled is just plain wrong?; that rigid lady over there has clearly not gotten enough sleep, no clue why she'd force herself to be here; that blond man’s still wearing his hat and sunglasses inside! What, did he forget to—
Hold on… Aventurine? Blond, flashy sunglasses, daring hat—that was definitely him, alright. Looking closer, Ratio cursed under his breath—of course it was him, why wouldn’t he be here? And, as much as he wouldn't dare say it to his face, thank god for that! Finally, a familiar face; finally, someone here who had even half a brain. Immediately regaining the vigour that had been drained so, so long ago, Ratio straightened up, his gaze darting from place to place more frantically than ever. He realised that, as much as he was pleased to see Aventurine, he couldn't help noticing this sudden, looming feeling. There was something that wasn’t quite right. Something was amiss, uncanny. Aventurine, he-
His smile, Ratio noticed, was growing faker and faker with every ticking second. The glimmer of his teeth, the shine of his rings, the drooping feather lying so performatively on his prim, gold-brimmed hat. All this grandeur, this bravado, felt like a childish attempt— laughable at best—to hide the sickly and spiteful hate for those around him that burned so deeply within his blood. It was all so unbearably pitiful, so absurdly stupid. He was no better than a fool—prancing around, entertaining the masses, stooping to the exact same level as the people he hated so dearly. It was so stupid, in fact, that it seemed some strange force like worry, rage, or pity—Ratio didn’t know, and never bothered to find out—made him rise, almost feverishly, from his ever-so-precious seat. It was this strange force that tugged at his legs as he walked towards his target. And admittedly, this strange force may have made his stare a little too intense as he approached, and his grip a little too tight as he seized Aventurine by the wrist. He just wanted to get out of this place. Immediately.
“A quick word with you please, gambler.” Ratio muttered halfheartedly—a terrible, half-assed excuse, really.
“Hey, wait! Doc-“ were the words that Aventurine managed to blurt out, before shortly realising that there was no chance of getting out at this point anyway.
Being dragged up several flights of stairs out of the blue by somebody agitated out of their mind is no easy task. Aventurine came to know this quite quickly during the first minute of meeting Ratio at this shitshow. It also wasn’t easy to bear the absolute seething silence that radiated from him either. Aventurine could throw question after question, annoyance after annoyance, but to no avail whatsoever. Just what had made him so angry? So much so that he would just feel the need to start dragging people around? It was a little frightening to think about—what kind of lecture would he go on for hours about this time? What’s gotten him so worked up? A person, perhaps? Who? Could it be-
The roar of Aventurine’s thoughts were suddenly cut short by the loud bang of a door closing behind him. He stared wide-eyed at that poor door—he never knew it could make that big a sound. He realised he had been ushered into one of the many spare bedrooms lining the hall. Turning back around and seeing Ratio’s exasperated expression, noticing his furrowed brow, he was snapped straight back into reality. That was something he didn’t particularly want to face right now.
Silenced lingered in the air for an age.
“You can let go of me now.” Aventurine declared, after calming his jagged breaths.
Only then did Ratio’s piercing glare widen, letting go of Aventurine’s wrist. Only then did he revert to his normal, gentler expression, something more natural—something infinitely more preferable than that intense stare, Aventurine thought. It didn’t suit him. Not at all.
Again, a stagnant silence hung in the air for many, many moments. Neither could find the right words, but still, they both knew how miserable they were down there. Flashing lights, phony grins. Fake- all of it fake. And here, alone together, they were supposed to be temporarily free. A brief respite of some sorts—vulnerability, truth, just like always, right?
...
Again, something was just not right. Something was amiss. Uncanny. Aventurine, he-
His wavering smile, Ratio noticed, was truly genuine now. So what was it? Looking him vigorously up and down, searching, scanning, Ratio tried desperately to see the cracks in the stone that stood so pristine before him.
No, that was it, wasn't it? Where were the cracks? The slight imperfections, the melancholy glimmer in his eyes, the fidgeting of his fingers—where were they? And suddenly, it all seemed to become so sinister. The glimmer of his teeth, the shine of his rings, the drooping feather lying so performatively on his prim, gold-brimmed hat. All so pathetically fake. And suddenly it all became so… stupid. A cruel betrayal of the self. It was almost aggravating. Then, that strange force—what was it? Pity? Worry?
That strange force began tugging at Ratio’s body bit by bit and piece by piece: plucking off Aventurine’s hat and tossing it to the side; picking off his sunglasses and revealing his eyes; peeling off each ring one by one, leaving the knuckles behind them bare and soft. Lingering on his touch for longer than he should.
“Look at you—undressing me already?” came Aventurine’s retort, a soft jab. Not entirely offended, but not exactly pleased either.
Ratio’s movement halted with a sharp shiver, inhaling a shaky and sudden breath,
“…Do not accuse me of indecency, gambler."
Dropping the hand that he had been so eager to hold, Ratio could only avert his eyes in utter disgust. Why would he say such a thing? Was it some meagre attempt at a joke? How horrid. If it was a joke, it was a terrible one, and he should be truly ashamed of himself... but why wasn’t he saying anything more? Looking back at the man in front of him, Ratio was only met with that pair of eyes he knew too well. And they looked confused. They looked angry; they were prying, asking, begging to get their hands on an answer, and god knows what he wanted the answer to. So if that was the case, then fine, Ratio thought, what wrong would it do to let out some sort of answer?
"I want to talk to you. Not the facade. You. I apologise for failing to explain before. In order for that to happen, removing material restraints is irrefutably necessary."
Anyone less acute would have missed the flash of panic that struck Aventurine's face that was wiped the moment it arose.
"You say that like I'm some big actor. You must be mistaken, doctor, there is nothing wrong—"
"Do I need to remind you of my involvement in our missions? Think, Aventurine, and you'd realise that I am laid privy to your... act on a regular basis."
For a second, Aventurine felt his eyes twitch in some sort of unfathomable rage. Squinting. Pulsing. Like they could burst at any moment. But not before long, this supposed hatred seemed to turn into something more... desolate. He couldn't find it in himself to speak. He didn't want to. He could barely even lift his head and face the man stood before him, head heaving under the weight of thought after thought after thought. Why is he prying? What does he want from me? Stop trying to render me helpless. I will not be vulnerable and I will not be weak. Is he right? Can I even tell if I'm acting or not? He could feel a tightening in his chest. That desperate urge telling him to run, fight, claw his way out, just do something. But he didn't.
"You dont have to talk, I understand,"
Ratio's voice oozed into his head sweeter than he would've liked. A tender remedy for the endless noise.
"Personal preference is all—talk or don't talk, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you get some rest."
"Rest?" Aventurine scoffed, offering a cynical smile, "Is that all you want from me? Are you gonna ask for anything else? Something in return?"
"No." Ratio couldn't help but feel slightly offended, "Don't you dare think so lowly of me, gambler, I do not appreciate it in the slightest."
Aventurine could not bring himself to believe it, as much as he longed to. Giving into him could be a disaster. Who knows what he could be thinking? It was better to stay at a distance. Who knows what harm he could cause?
But it hurt. When he glanced upon Ratio's gentle face, how excruciatingly difficult it became to breathe! How desperately he wanted to fold, to let it all go, to not hold every card so close to his chest. Was that too much to ask? Looking up, Aventurine couldn't bear it any longer. He noticed Ratio's furrowed brow, that stare woven with the most intricate of sorrows, that shaky exhale he couldn't manage to keep hidden. It all seemed so real. Plus, Ratio had never been a good liar.
"... Alright, fine. You win. I'll take your word for it. For now." Aventurine muttered.
Defeated and utterly exhausted, he threw himself onto the perfectly-made, pristine bed, probably laid out for someone important. Topaz wouldn't mind, surely. She was sure to accommodate for a poor soul in need of rest—oh, how generous of her! He could perhaps leave a few dirt marks from the bottom of his shoes on the bed as gratitude—or better still, shake out some pebbles and scatter them around as a parting gift. Unfortunately, messing with Topaz wasn't his top priority at the moment. He would get her another day, he was sure—just not today.
"Good."
Ratio seemed pleased at his decision to finally relax. Is that all it took to make him happy? It was funny, Aventurine thought, how little it could be.
"You stay there. I'll organise these for you. You should try to empty your thoughts for now. Keep your mind, and more importantly your mouth, quiet." Ratio said in a low tone, like he was expecting the other to be drifting off to sleep already, turning immediately to organise Aventurine's various accessories.
The cheek of that man! Only he could tell someone to shut up in a more infuriating way than just outright saying it. Aventurine, in retort, glared at his turned back with a deathly stare, hoping he could sense the disapproval through sheer psychic communication. Then, he realised that watching Ratio exasperatedly fiddle around with his rings, hat, et cetera, was unexpectedly funny. He clearly didn't know what he was doing. A smile crept up Aventurine's drying lips, and reaching up to touch it, to almost check if it was real, it felt good. It felt genuine. Before he knew it, Ratio was already throwing his hat on a rack and finished with the sorting struggle. And he definitely did not want Ratio turning around and seeing his daft, too-wide smile. Panicked, he quickly rolled over, pretending to have been pondering over whatever interesting view the wall he was facing may have to offer, anticipating what Ratio was to do next.
Would he leave?
Aventurine could feel the silence slip from comfortable into one of awkward fretting. His heart began to beat again.
He didn't want Ratio to leave.
Ratio stood hovering uneasily around the bedroom door. He wasn't exactly sure what to do. He didn't particularly want to leave—god forbid he went downstairs and rejoined the party. That would practically be torture. But he also didn't want to disturb Aventurine, who looked the most peaceful he'd been in a long time. He would gladly leave if it were for the sake of Aventurine's wellbeing, but something was just tugging him back every time he tried to pull back the door handle. Perhaps some lingering doubts of whether this is what he would want, perhaps some inevitable remnants of his own selfishness—whatever it was, he just couldn't bring himself to pull it.
"...Could you stay?"
Aventurine's timid voice struck him like a brick. Turning his head, he met Aventurine's worried gaze, ineffective in trying to hide his worry, no doubt having observed him for a while now.
"Only for a bit. You said you wanted me to rest and—"
"Sure."
A smile crept up Ratio's otherwise stoic face. That's exactly what he was waiting for. Finally, some clarity.
Sitting down on the bed and quietly demanding Aventurine to budge up, Ratio took this newfound time to thoroughly observe him. He looked tranquil, calm, like an ocean completely still. His golden hair draped tiredly over his golden skin. His eyes half-shut, half-asleep, finally relaxed. Vulnerable. It was strange, yet not the stupid sort of strange. He realised then something he was daft not to have realised since the beginning. That force he felt sometimes—that tugging, that pulling of his body in certain situations that he had never been able to truly work out—he then realised it was the simplest of things. It may have just been as simple as a sense of care. Love, maybe.
Thank god he stayed, Aventurine thought. It really did put him at ease. His presence calmed him somehow, in the same way he would look upon the moon some nights and feel its kind eyes guiding him, always. In a dreamlike haze, before fading into sleep, Aventurine yearned to grasp something. An anchor. Safety. Reaching out, without thinking, he slowly stretched out for Ratio's hand. Just before his fingers could feel that sensation of warm flesh beneath them, he realised the absurdity of his action. Curling in on himself, he pulled his outstretched hand back in utter humiliation. Perhaps he was being foolish. Perhaps he was overstepping the boundaries of the kind doctor's hospitality. Perhaps his kindness had just been common procedure.
His thoughts were interrupted the warmth of another's hand wrapping around his own. Telling him to stay. Telling him things that words couldn't. Telling him that he was safe. That sensation he had been longing for, there it was. He shakily released the breath he didn't even know he was holding. So he wasn't being foolish, then. So it wasn't just him who was yearning for the other's touch. Gazing up at him, beholding what felt like the most beautiful of eyes, chancing upon that smile that breached his normally irritated face, Aventurine's heart felt ready to burst. He didn't really know what to do. He so desperately wanted to a mutter a 'Thanks, doc', except he had not the energy nor reason to say so.
Words were not needed, nor were they enough for either of the two, sat in such comfortable silence. So, doing the best he could, Aventurine took Ratio's hand and kissed it tenderly again, and again, and again, each softer than the last, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.