Work Text:
Title: Ratio in Wonderland.
This situation was straight out of a movie — or worse, a children’s book.
“Professor… you look… cute.”
Ratio’s lab assistant blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth.
Ratio stared down at his tiny, pudgy hands and short legs. His voice came out an octave higher.
“Enough with the unnecessary commentary. Summarize what happened.”
The other assistant cleared her throat.
“We were testing the age-regression serum. During the quake, the flask spilled—on you, sir. You’ve, uh… reverted to approximately six years old.”
Ratio exhaled slowly, adjusting the too-long sleeves that kept sliding over his fingers.
“I see. Rework the formula and prepare a reversal dose.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please allow me to drive you home, Professor,” she offered nervously. “In your current state, you might… not reach the pedals.”
Ratio’s eye twitched.
“…Fine. Let’s go.”
===========
He dismissed the assistant at the door despite her obvious wish to stay and take his pictures. Once alone, Ratio stood in the quiet of his apartment, which suddenly felt built for giants.
Everything loomed at a higher height — countertops, doorknobs, switches. Tasks he’d never thought twice about were now full-fledged obstacles. He dragged a stool just to reach the light switch, muttering under his breath about “inconvenient ergonomics.”
Ratio had just started toward his bedroom when the door burst open.
“Ratiooo~ you home? Let’s grab lunch!”
Aventurine’s voice filled the space like sunlight and noise — then cut off.
Standing in the entryway, Aventurine blinked at the small child drowning in Ratio’s oversized lab coat and glasses that kept sliding down his nose.
“Oh, hey there, little one. You his younger brother? Huh. Ratio never mentioned siblings.”
The blond crouched down, grin wide and curious.
“You here all alone? Cute getup, by the way — playing scientist? Do you know where big brother Ratio is?”
From his new height, Ratio had to look up at him. It was disorienting.
Aventurine had always been the one looking up at him — grinning, flirting, tossing barbed compliments like cards across a table. But now the man’s shadow fell gently over him, gold hair catching the afternoon light, the sharp edges of his expression softening into something warmer.
Ratio scowled, partly out of habit, partly to steady the strange flutter that came with being on the receiving end of such uncomplicated care.
“Aventurine, it’s me. I’m Ratio.”
Aventurine blinked, amusement flickering before melting into a chuckle.
“You are? Then I’m the desert kingdom’s Prince Vasha!”
But even as he teased, the laugh didn’t reach his eyes the same way it usually did. There was no performance, no mask of showmanship — just a man trying to make sense of a small, serious boy claiming something impossible.
Ratio crossed his arms, tilting his chin up.
“It’s the truth.”
And for a moment, Aventurine only looked at him — really looked. The resemblance, the tone, the stubborn glint that even a child’s face couldn’t hide. His grin softened into a quiet smile before humor rushed back in to fill the gap.
“It’s the truth! There was a spillage accident in the lab that reduced me to this form.”
Ratio stomped his small foot — which, unfortunately, only made the scene cuter.
Aventurine, biting his lip to keep from laughing harder, tilted his head.
“You’re really selling the story, kiddo. What’s next, you tell me we’re in a fanfic?”
The blond chuckled.
“What’s your name by the way?”
Ratio froze, realizing further protest was useless. He straightened and tried again, tone dignified.
“My name is—” he bit his tongue halfway through Ra-tio and hissed, “Tio.”
“Tio, huh?” Aventurine grinned. “Cute name. Figures — you’ve got that tiny-genius look going. Maybe it runs in the family.”
Ratio muttered something unprintable and adjusted his slipping glasses.
Aventurine glanced around the apartment again — no adults, no lunch smells, no sign of supervision. His grin faltered into something softer.
“Alright, little genius,” he said, hands on his hips. “Dress-up time’s over. You can’t stay here alone, and those sleeves look like they’re trying to eat you.”
“I am perfectly capable—”
“Of what? Drowning in your own coat?”
Aventurine chuckled, then before Ratio could protest, he bent down and scooped him up in one smooth motion. The scholar gave a startled yelp, arms flailing as Aventurine balanced him easily on one arm while reaching for his car keys with the other.
“Put me down this instant!” Ratio demanded, mortified.
“Can’t. You’ll trip over those pant legs before we hit the elevator. Now hang on, short stuff. We’re going shopping.”
Ratio huffed, crossing his small arms, but his face burned pink against Aventurine’s shoulder.
=============
The boutique’s entrance chimed as they walked in — rows of children’s fashion gleaming like a miniature runway. The attendant’s eyes sparkled when she saw Aventurine and his “nephew.”
Within minutes, Aventurine was in full stylist mode, arms loaded with designer shirts, shoes, and accessories that cost more than Ratio’s monthly research grant.
Ratio stood stiffly as he was ushered into a fitting room.
“These expenditures are unnecessary.”
“I’m amazed you knew such words, Tio. Good boy! But relax — fashion is an investment.”
Aventurine placed a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses on his face.
“See? Perfect. You’re like a tiny me.”
Ratio looked at the mirror, deadpan.
“Precisely the reason this must never leave the premises.”
Aventurine cackled.
“You wound me. Alright, alright, we’ll tone it down. But you’re keeping the jacket — it screams confidence.”
Ratio adjusted the too-fancy collar.
“It screams something, yes.”
==========
By the time they were done, Aventurine was carrying half a boutique’s worth of paper bags. He glanced at his watch.
“Shopping level cleared. Next quest — food. You hungry, Tio?”
Ratio’s stomach answered for him, a quiet growl that made Aventurine grin.
They ended up at a family restaurant — the kind with checkered tablecloths and cartoon menus. Aventurine guided Ratio into a booth and flagged a waiter.
“Get us the works — something for kids, and dessert for both.”
Ratio blinked at the colorful plate when it arrived — mini burgers, fries shaped like stars, a cup of jelly.
“This seems inefficient.”
“Efficiently adorable,” Aventurine said, cutting the burger in half.
“They’re also not nutritious.”
“Here, just try~ it.”
“I can feed myself.”
“Humor me.”
Aventurine held the fork like a challenge. Ratio hesitated, sighed, then leaned forward for a bite.
The taste was simple but warm — nothing like the sterile food bars he usually forgot to finish in the lab.
When Aventurine ordered a parfait to share, Ratio didn’t protest. Aventurine scooped the first spoonful, Ratio the next, their rhythm unspoken.
“You really don’t smile much, huh?”
Aventurine said casually, swirling the straw in his drink. Ratio blinked.
“It’s not a practical habit.”
He did smile though. Whenever he polished his plaster head mask or his self-portrait statues. Aventurine tilted his head, amused.
“Practical or not, it helps. I’m guessing you don’t do much… kid stuff, huh?”
Ratio frowned, thoughtful.
“I read. I conduct research. I analyze.”
“Uh-huh. Let me guess—no playgrounds, no games, no junk food?”
Ratio tilted his head, tone almost defensive.
“Libraries are fun.”
Aventurine laughed, loud enough to earn a glance from the next table.
“That’s… one kind of fun. But I’ve got something else in mind. Come on, Tio, let’s make memories!”
===========
The arcade greeted them with color and chaos. Lights blinked, machines whirred, bells rang with every win and loss. Aventurine led the way like a proud tour guide, the small hand in his own hesitant at first, then gripping tighter as the noise hit.
Ratio squinted, raising his hand as if to measure the sound levels.
“Do people voluntarily come here?”
“That’s the point, Professor Junior,” Aventurine said, already fishing out coins. “No hypotheses. Just fun.”
He handed Ratio a lanyard with a plastic card.
“Your VIP pass.”
“I doubt this establishment has such a ranking system.”
“Now it does,” Aventurine said, ruffling his hair. Ratio glared, but his eyes couldn’t help darting toward the neon lights reflected in the glass. He looked smaller there—less a professor, more a child who’d never been given permission to simply be one.
========
Aventurine stopped in front of a claw machine glowing like treasure.
“Alright, lesson one in fun,” he said, jingling a handful of tokens. “The world runs on chance. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t — but you can always try again.”
Ratio folded his arms.
“That’s illogical. These machines are designed to fail most of the time.”
“Exactly,” Aventurine grinned. “That’s what makes it interesting.” He crouched. “Go on, pick one. Which prize do you want?”
“I don’t want any.”
“Come on, humor me.”
Ratio’s eyes flicked over the pile of plushies before stopping — briefly — on a small owl with oversized glasses. Aventurine caught the glance, smile sharpening.
“The owl, huh? Good taste.”
“I did not say that,” Ratio said quickly, cheeks faintly pink.
“Noted.” Aventurine slipped a coin into the slot.
The claw descended, grabbed air, and came up empty.
Ratio’s look was unimpressed.
“Your angle was off by two centimeters, and the grip strength insufficient.”
“Oh? Professor’s notes taken.” Aventurine tried again. Missed.
“Still inefficient,” Ratio muttered.
“Third time’s the charm, then.”
On the next try, the claw closed around the owl, swayed, and — miraculously — dropped it into the chute. Aventurine threw his hands up with a victorious whoop that made the attendant flinch.
“See? The universe does reward persistence! Told you it’s fun.”
Ratio stared at the plush in quiet disbelief. The small, soft thing was absurdly warm in his hands. For once, the goal wasn’t data or proof — it was something entirely pointless. And somehow, that felt… new.
He looked up at Aventurine, who was still grinning like a fool.
“I will admit,” Ratio said slowly, “the result was… not unpleasant.”
“Careful, Tio,” Aventurine teased. “That sounded dangerously close to fun.”
Ratio sniffed, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him.
============
From there, they bounced from game to game.
At the shooting game, Aventurine lifted Ratio onto the small stool in front of the console. Plastic blasters gleamed under the neon, the screen flashing with cartoon villains.
“Alright, Tio, time to test your reflexes,” Aventurine said, feeding coins into the slot. “Point, aim, fire. Easy.”
Ratio eyed the gun skeptically. “Statistically, these sensors are unreliable.”
“Then prove me wrong, kiddo.”
The game began. The moment the first target appeared, Ratio’s arm lifted with unnerving steadiness.
One shot — bull’s-eye.
Then another.
And another.
The machine chimed with perfect accuracy, the combo counter climbing until nearby players turned to watch.
Aventurine let out a low whistle.
“Well, look at that. Your aim’s as sharp as Ratio’s —” he laughed at his own joke “— guess it runs in the family!”
Ratio didn’t reply, too busy clearing another wave. His small hand never trembled; his expression stayed calm, calculating. The cadence of virtual reloads almost matched chalk striking a board.
When the STAGE CLEARED! banner lit up, Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Remind me never to play darts with you.”
Ratio lowered the blaster, blinking at the flashing PERFECT SCORE.
“It’s simple pattern recognition,” he said, but his voice carried the faintest note of satisfaction.
“Uh-huh. Call it whatever you want, sharpshooter.”
Aventurine nudged him lightly, grinning.
“See? Games of chance aren’t so bad when you’re the one stacking the odds.”
Ratio found himself almost smiling.
“Perhaps. Though I suspect your definition of chance remains dubious.”
“Fair,” Aventurine said, still chuckling. “But it’s more fun than statistics, right?”
Ratio didn’t answer — he just reloaded. “Next round.”
============
Next was the rhythm game.
Aventurine threw himself into it first — hips swinging, hands flashing across the arrows, moving with the same over-the-top flourish he brought to every casino table. The screen burst with color as he laughed, spinning once just because he could.
“Come on, Tio, feel the beat!” he called, breathless.
Ratio, standing stiffly beside him, eyed the glowing floor tiles like a battle map. “I am feeling it,” he said. “I’m merely… containing it.”
“Uh-huh,” Aventurine grinned. “Then prove it.”
Ratio hesitated, then stepped onto the platform. The next track started — fast, complex. For a moment, he looked lost. Then the rhythm caught him. His feet moved with uncanny precision; each note hit perfectly in time, his small body spinning into brief, statuesque poses between beats — measured, elegant, beautiful in their restraint.
Aventurine nearly missed his own step.
“Whoa — where’d you learn that?”
Ratio didn’t glance up.
“Pattern recognition. And geometry.”
“Geometry, my ass. That’s style, kid!”
Aventurine couldn’t stop laughing — not his usual crowd-pleasing laugh, but warm and real, cracking with joy.
Ratio risked a glance. He’d never seen Aventurine like this — unguarded, not performing, just alive. Most people around Ratio only stayed long enough to take notes, to extract knowledge, to bask in borrowed intellect. But this man laughed like sharing the moment was enough.
And somehow, that made Ratio move a little freer.
By the time the song ended, the screen blazed FULL COMBO! Aventurine doubled over, panting.
“This,” he said between breaths, “is what fun looks like.”
Ratio tilted his head.
“Messy?”
“Free,” Aventurine corrected, still smiling. “Messy and free.”
Ratio’s lips twitched, and a tiny laugh slipped out — brief, bright, like a spark.
Aventurine blinked, caught off guard.
“Did you just laugh?”
Ratio adjusted his glasses.
“You must be mistaken.”
“Yeah?” Aventurine grinned. “Then I hope I keep making the same mistake.”
===============
By the time they reached the photo booth, Aventurine was buzzing with energy. He dragged Ratio inside, ignoring his protests.
“Smile for the camera, Tio!”
“I see no logical reason to—” The flash cut him off.
When the strip printed out, Aventurine peeled it from the slot and waved it proudly.
“Hey, look. You did smile.”
Ratio blinked down at the photo, genuinely taken aback. The boy in the picture wasn’t the ever-serious scholar he knew. His eyes were bright; the corners of his mouth curved.
He traced the edge of the printout, quiet.
“Curious.”
Aventurine leaned closer, voice soft but teasing.
“Told you. Fun isn’t fatal.”
Ratio looked up at him, caught by the warmth in his grin.
“…Five points.”
“Hey, you do that same thing Ratio does.”
That’s because I AM Ratio, he nearly said — then sighed.
“I’ll be Tio for now.”
And this time, the smile that followed wasn’t accidental.
========
Later, when the last token clattered through the machine, they shared a soda at a side table. The arcade’s noise had mellowed into a dull hum — laughter, bells, a rhythm fading behind them.
“You had fun,” Aventurine said, watching the boy swirl the straw through melting ice.
Ratio pretended to consider.
“I gathered sufficient serotonin, yes.”
“That’s called happiness, Tio.”
“Hmm.”
It came out flat, but Aventurine saw the faint curve tugging at his lips. He chuckled as he ruffled Ratio’s hair.
“You’re welcome.”
Ratio’s quiet laugh slipped free before he could stop it — a small, unguarded sound that surprised even him. Aventurine smiled to himself, finishing the soda.
“C’mon,” he said, standing. “Too nice an evening to waste under fluorescent lights. Let’s walk a bit before dinner.”
=============
Outside, the air was gentler. The sky bled gold into dusk, and the noise of the arcade gave way to the hum of cicadas. Aventurine kept a casual pace beside him, hands in his pockets, shortening his stride so Ratio’s smaller steps could keep up.
After a while, he said softly, “You know, spending time with you like this… feels weirdly familiar.”
Ratio looked up.
“Because I resemble your friend?”
Aventurine laughed under his breath.
“Something like that. I keep forgetting you’re not him. You even tilt your head the same way when you’re thinking. Apple falling on your head and all.”
Ratio blinked, curious despite himself.
“Do you… enjoy spending time with him?”
Aventurine’s voice dipped, thoughtful.
“Yeah. I do. He doesn’t think anyone notices, but when he gets excited explaining something? His eyes light up. Makes me forget whatever nonsense I’m dealing with.”
They reached the small park near the street corner — empty swings, rusted jungle bars. Aventurine sat on one, the chains creaking softly as he rocked. Ratio stood beside him, watching.
“Do you always speak so openly about others when they’re not around?”
Ratio asked, caught between confusion and fascination.
Aventurine gave a helpless grin.
“Guess I’m oversharing, huh? Sorry. It’s just… he’s different. I don’t know why I fell for him. No—” he paused, shaking his head with a rueful laugh, “I do know.”
Ratio tilted his head — a mirror of his older self’s habit. “Why?”
Aventurine leaned back, eyes tracing the fading light through the trees.
“He pulled me out when I was at my lowest — back in Penacony. The Nihility Abyss was... tempting. I didn’t think anyone would bother reaching for me, but he did. That kind of thing sticks, you know?”
The blond took out the owl message bottle from his breast pocket.
Ratio widened his eyes, amazed that Aventurine still kept that cheap trinket.
“ I guess that’s how love works. It crash-lands on you when you least expect it.” Aventurine gave a half-smile that didn’t hide the ache behind it. “And despite that sharp tongue of his, I can tell he cares. No data to prove it, no odds to bet on — I just… know. Strange, huh?”
Ratio watched him quietly. His heart gave an unfamiliar twist — pride, warmth, and something else he couldn’t categorize.
“I don’t think it’s strange,” he said at last, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure he… likes you too.”
Aventurine smiled — soft, unguarded — the kind of smile Ratio had never seen aimed at himself.
“I hope so too, kiddo. But considering he thinks my fashion sense is atrocious, he probably just sees me as an annoying colleague. A peacock at that.”
Ratio wanted to protest, but Aventurine would probably wave it off again.
The swing creaked, and the sky deepened from amber to blue.
“Alright, champ,” Aventurine said at last, standing and brushing his hands together. “Sun’s down. Let’s get you home before your folks start a manhunt.”
“Very well,” Ratio said, hopping off the swing with surprising poise for someone half his usual height. “I suppose the lab must have made progress by now.”
Aventurine smiled at the phrasing, not quite catching it.
“Lab, huh? So the family’s in science too. Figures.”
============
They reached Ratio’s apartment complex, and sure enough, a woman in a lab coat stood by the door, clutching a metallic briefcase like it was sacred.
“Oh, Professor! I mean—sir! I mean—!” she stammered, her gaze flicking from the little boy to Aventurine and back, face reddening.
Aventurine raised an eyebrow.
“And you must be his… mom?”
The woman’s expression screamed help.
“Ah—yes? Something like that! Perhaps!”
Ratio pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That will be all. Thank you for delivering the compound. Return to the lab and continue recalibration.”
The assistant practically bolted, muttering, “Yes, Professor!” before vanishing down the hall.
Aventurine blinked.
“Professor? Wow, your family really commits to the bit.”
“Come inside,” Ratio said evenly. “It will be clearer soon.”
Something in his tone — quiet authority, too old for that body — made Aventurine obey without question.
============
Inside, the apartment lights hummed softly. Ratio walked ahead, placing the briefcase on the coffee table.
“I suggest you stand back.”
Aventurine frowned, ready to snap his fingers and form a shield.
“What’s in there, some kind of science experiment?”
“Precisely.”
Ratio unclasped the case, revealing a vial of pale blue liquid. He tugged at the hem of his jacket — the tiny designer one Aventurine had so proudly picked — and set it aside.
“Whoa, whoa, kid — wait, what are you doing?” Aventurine sputtered, eyes darting anywhere but the child undressing. “Put something on, you’ll catch—”
But Ratio was already unscrewing the vial, completely unfazed.
“Restoring equilibrium.”
He poured the contents over himself in one smooth motion. The air shimmered. Light rippled around him — outline stretching, limbs lengthening, voice deepening into the familiar timbre Aventurine knew far too well.
And then, standing amidst a puddle of glowing residue and shredded miniature clothes, was Ratio.
The real one.
The tall, handsome one.
Aventurine’s brain short-circuited.
“What the — what — you — HOW — WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY TIO?!”
Ratio ran a hand through his hair, expression perfectly composed.
“As I said earlier, Aventurine. It’s me.”
Aventurine gaped.
“I’m Ra-tio.”
The older man repeated, mimicking the lisp.
Aventurine pointed helplessly. “I babysat you! I — I bought you shoes! I spoon-fed you pudding!”
Ratio’s mouth twitched, amusement barely contained.
“And you performed admirably. I trust the experience was… enlightening?”
“Enlightening?!” Aventurine’s face was a masterpiece of horror and disbelief. “I tucked you into your car seat, you little—!”
Ratio raised an eyebrow.
“You seemed to enjoy it more than I did. Even cuddling me as you put me on your lap.”
“That’s not the point!”
Ratio stepped closer, entirely too calm for someone who’d just regrown a few feet of height.
“Then what is the point, Aventurine?”
Aventurine opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared.
“…I need a drink.”
Ratio smirked, folding his arms.
“After the day you’ve had? I’ll allow it.”
=========
By the time Ratio came back from a quick shower, Aventurine was still pacing in a slow circle, one hand in his hair, muttering.
“ — We shared a soda. You had a booster seat. I spoon-fed you pudding, Ratio.”
Ratio, now fully grown and back in his proper clothes, sat calmly on the couch, towel draped over his shoulders like a patient god watching a mortal meltdown.
“And I appreciated the effort. Your caretaking instincts are… thorough. You’d make a great father.”
Aventurine nearly pulled his hair, voice an octave higher than usual.
“I thought you were a lonely genius’s nephew!”
Ratio’s lips curved.
“So the head pats, the shopping spree, the matching hat — those were acts of mercy?”
Aventurine froze.
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Ratio leaned back, eyes glinting.
“You seemed to enjoy them quite a bit. I believe your exact words were, ‘Come on, Tio, let’s make memories.’”
“I’m never living this down.”
“No,” Ratio agreed, “you aren’t.”
For a moment, silence hung — Aventurine half-defensive, Ratio quietly savoring his torment. Then Ratio spoke again, softer.
“I still remember what you said at the park.”
Aventurine stopped pacing.
“What I said…?” Then he paled. “No…”
“Yes. You talked about love. About the man who rescued you from the Abyss.”
Aventurine groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh, Mama Fenge, please save me… of course the universe wouldn’t let me die before embarrassment.”
Ratio tilted his head, studying him.
“Was it true?”
Aventurine dropped his hand and met his gaze. The usual teasing glint wasn’t there now, just a tired, rueful honesty.
“Yeah. Every word. You weren’t supposed to hear it like that, though. I thought you were — well, six.”
Ratio’s expression softened.
“So… you fell in love with me.”
Aventurine gave a helpless little laugh.
“Apparently. Can’t say I planned on it. You’re impossible to read, impossible to resist, and now I’ve officially hit rock bottom by confessing when you were in your kindergartner version.”
Ratio stepped close enough that Aventurine could see the faint dampness still clinging to his hair.
For a heartbeat, the world held — the lights, the faint hum of the air conditioning, Aventurine’s pulse hammering in his ears.
Then Ratio spoke up, low and amused, “Next time, I’d prefer to be courted in my proper form. The miniature one was… undignified.”
Aventurine laughed weakly, half-relieved, half-bewitched.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” Ratio said, “here you are.”
Aventurine sank onto the couch beside him, still rubbing his temples.
“I can’t believe what happened today, we’re possibly really living in a fanfic right now and the readers laughing at me.”
Ratio turned the towel in his hands, then reached for one of the shopping bags Aventurine had dropped earlier.
From it, he pulled the small owl plush — still bright-eyed, still absurdly soft.
“You won this for me,” Ratio said, setting it on the table between them.
Aventurine groaned.
“Don’t remind me. I nearly bankrupted myself at that claw machine.”
Ratio traced the fabric with his thumb.
“I recall saying it was a waste of time. I was wrong.”
That stilled Aventurine.
“You were?”
Ratio nodded once.
“For the first time in a long while, I acted without logic or purpose. No experiment, no data — just… because you asked me to.”
He glanced up, meeting Aventurine’s eyes.
“And it was unexpectedly gratifying.”
“You’re saying you had fun?” Aventurine asked, smiling despite himself.
“I’m saying I enjoyed being with you,” Ratio said.
Something eased in Aventurine’s shoulders; the grin he gave back wasn’t his showman’s grin — just small and a little dazed.
“You realize you’re confessing, right?”
“I’m aware,” Ratio said steadily. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”
The air between them seemed to hum, softer than the earlier chaos, charged with something neither had to name.
“Well,” Aventurine murmured, half-teasing, half-sincere, “guess I should’ve known the universe was rigged in your favor.”
“Statistically inevitable,” Ratio said, mouth tipping up.
Aventurine laughed, shaking his head. Ratio picked up the owl plush and, without a word, hugged it close.
“I’ll treasure this,” he said. “A token of our first shared hypothesis on fun.”
Somewhere between the lamplight and the soft hum of the city, they both laughed — not loud, not sharp — just warm, the sound of logic and chance finally landing on the same beat.
The quiet that followed wasn’t empty; it pulsed with everything left unsaid.
Aventurine leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the owl plush still clutched in one hand.
“So,” he murmured, half teasing, half uncertain, “now that you’re back to full size… what happens next?”
Ratio regarded him thoughtfully, then extended a hand — calm, deliberate — and set it over Aventurine’s.
“We repeat the experiment,” he said.
Aventurine blinked. “Experiment?”
“The arcade,” Ratio said, lips curving. “I’d like to go again. Perhaps next weekend.”
Aventurine’s grin unfurled, slow and bright.
“Is that a promise for a second date, doc?”
Ratio adjusted his glasses, feigning innocence.
“Only if you bring flowers this time, Gambler.”
“Flowers, huh?” Aventurine leaned closer, that spark of mischief returning. “Should I match them to your eyes, or your tie?”
“Both,” Ratio said. “And matching clothes would be preferable.”
Aventurine laughed — a soft, unguarded sound that melted the last bit of distance between them.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Then it’s settled,” Ratio said.
Their hands stayed joined — logic and luck tangled in quiet agreement. City lights spilled through the window, catching on the small owl plush resting nearby.
Aventurine squeezed his hand lightly.
“Guess I’m bringing my best suit, then.”
Ratio smiled — rare, genuine, luminous.
“I look forward to testing it though I’m sure it’ll still be too peacock-esque to my taste.”
And as the night folded around them, neither spoke again. They didn’t need to.
The game had already begun — together, this time.
The End