Work Text:
Veritas Ratio, genius professor, was no stranger to working late. In some ways it was ideal; by the time he left the university, the crowds of commuters had thinned, and he was often able to find a seat on the bus ride back to his neighborhood. Relative to the rest of this city it was upscale, houses keeping more than a postage stamp’s worth of yard space, roofs made from hand-laid shingles, garlic garlands swaying over painted shutters with window boxes of flowers and herbs. Despite its relative proximity to the city’s obnoxious nightlife, there hadn’t been a reported vampire attack in this neighborhood in almost five years. Considering the daily horror stories in the news from the rest of the world, that was a near miraculous achievement.
Coming home later had other benefits, too. He could watch the sunset as he walked down the street, messenger bag of academic documents hung from one shoulder, listening to the breeze slip past him. Few children played outside at this hour; the street lights would be turning on soon. Compared to the rest of his little world, Ratio found this hour outside the second-most peaceful time, and he made a point of savoring it as he approached his home.
Ratio fished his front door keys out of his pocket and let himself in, changed his shoes out for house slippers by the shoe rack, and began the walk down the hall towards his office, closing the shutters and locking the windows as he passed. Even with the garlic hung, it was only sensible to stop anything from getting in or out, or spying an invitation to do so. And he wasn’t terribly fond of letting his neighbors see much of his indoor life either - only social expectation saw him opening the shutters in the first place, and even then, he never left them open while he was inside. This time and space belonged to him.
Ratio wasn’t interested in spending much time in his office, either. He dropped his bag off at the side of his desk, picked up the mostly-empty mug from his coaster, and proceeded towards the kitchen. Here, the windows and glass door looking into the backyard remained uncovered; as he rinsed the mug out, he could see the red-painted wooden bench under the tall oak tree, just starting to shed its leaves. He could see the scars in the grass from the trampoline that had lived here before he moved in two years ago, no matter how hard he tried to fill the spaces with moss or clover. He could see the birdhouse, the squirrel feeder, the small vegetable patch in need of replanting. He could see the pomegranate tree he had planted, growing tall but yet to start fruiting. He could see the evidence of a life being built, but not fully settled into just yet - true, but only so true.
Dirty mug safely housed in the dishwasher, Ratio turned to the fridge, ignoring the majority of its contents in search of the cheese sticks that made such enjoyable after-work snacks. Getting dairy into your diet when you so thoroughly disliked milk was a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. Snack retrieved from an upper drawer, Ratio continued his circuit around the first floor to finish closing its shutters before ascending the stairs.
Up here were the more important rooms to seal off. Here were the living spaces - bedroom, bathroom, a disused guest room, closets, storage. Here were the rooms Ratio inspected thoroughly once their shutters were closed, their windows latched. The thought of someone sneaking anything into these rooms while he was away made Ratio’s spine itch, after the reason for leaving his previous home - a silver cross thrown through his bedroom window, heavy enough to pierce his sheets and mattress when it landed. The idea of some subtler neighbor slipping in with silver studs or spikes, or hiding a cross in shadows and dust, made him almost compulsive about checking the upstairs rooms as soon as he got home for the evening.
But, as had been true every day for the past two years, there was nothing hidden away that Ratio hadn’t hidden himself. He finished his cheese somewhere between the guest and storage rooms, leaving the balled-up wrapper in the bathroom trashcan. He’d been pickier about leaving food trash in the kitchen, once, but it wasn’t like he had to worry about hungry pests in this house. Shutters closed, search complete, and pillows briefly fluffed up, Ratio returned to the kitchen, reached into the very back of the fridge behind the bottles of cooking sauces, and pulled out a small steel key, bright and shiny under the lights.
Ratio padded over to the thick wooden door visibly retrofitted into the hallway, jammed into a frame much weaker than it. Many people had added doors like this to the entrances of basements and cellars when vampires went from romanticized folklore to very real, very deadly menaces of the night. Basements were an ideal place to shove anyone you thought might have been bitten, infected, set on the path to become a new monster with the potential to kill the entire neighborhood; still in your home, but sealed off, unable to access the human blood needed to finish a transformation. If you kept someone down there long enough, they might get better. They might stop crying and trying to attack anyone who showed up to bring human food. One day, they might be able to leave the cold, dark basement, enter society again, return to having a life.
The lock on this door looked quite convincing. It was plenty strong enough to keep Ratio, a rather athletic man in his own right, from pushing the door open while it was locked. If he were ever locked downstairs, it was unlikely he’d be able to brute-force his way out. But the lock wasn’t meant for Ratio. He turned the key with a loud click, then pushed the door in, shutting it behind him on the small wooden landing.
Basements didn’t have to be cold, dark, and uncomfortable. The basement in this house was lit softly, kept warm by several independently-controlled miniature heaters, and properly furnished as a well-sized and fully-functional apartment. The ceiling was a little low, but not low enough to bump your head; the full-size bed had been shoved into a corner with a secondhand nightstand and a cedarwood partition to offer some privacy; the bathroom offered a combined bath and shower as well as an aluminum-backed mirror; there was plenty of space for bookshelves and other vertical storage; there were soft rugs littering the floor, once concrete, now tiled. There were small, barred ventilation shafts poking up just above ground level, obscured from the surface by bushes but highlighted from within by the small shelves mounted beneath. And at the weathered desk laden with computing equipment sat the basement’s occupant, the doctor’s very secret boyfriend.
“I thought I heard you coming home,” Aventurine said, pushing his headphones down to his neck with one hand as he closed a page off the screen. “Welcome back. Had a good day?”
Ratio smiled, crossing the room to give him a small kiss on the head. “I’d say so,” he said. “I started the novel that arrived yesterday. You do give interesting recommendations.”
“Exam day, right.” Aventurine took the headphones off properly and nodded, spinning around in his chair. “What do you think so far? I know spec-fic murder mysteries can be a little specific.”
Ratio stepped back, giving Aventurine space to get up and hug him. “It seems alright,” he said, laying his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “It’s setting up the rules of its reality well enough. Certainly a passion project.”
Aventurine very specifically kept his mouth away from Ratio’s neck, nuzzling at him with the back of his head. “It definitely is that. Apparently the author spent years in the worldbuilding phase with some friends. I’m hoping for an extra setting book sometime.”
They stood there for a minute, holding each other, the way they did after most days. It was nerve-wracking, a human dating a vampire. Prey cuddling up to its predator, trusting it wouldn’t get eaten, rarely lived as long as Ratio had like this. It wasn’t reasonable. It wasn’t logical. But even now, Ratio remembered the wet, bedraggled man he’d found left out to die in the morning sun, pinned in place with a silver spike through the leg. He’d never learned what Aventurine had done to be executed by his keepers, and he never planned on asking.
It had been stupid to help a dying vampire. He knew even then by the slitted pupils, the bright pink iris shot through with streaks of baby blue. But the vampire had looked at him, out with a lantern in the rain at night, and had raised his hands and begged for his life. Against all better judgement, Ratio had taken the spike out, watched the edges of the wound sizzle from the metal while the rain washed it clean.
He could have left him after that. He’d given Aventurine the chance to heal, and that was bad enough. But he could see the malnourishment, the desperation, and the humanity in Aventurine; and in defiance of all logic, Ratio had brought Aventurine into his home. There had been some idea of studying him, learning more about vampirism, becoming the stereotypical mad doctor with an experiment living in the basement. But Aventurine was so human, so reasonable, so easy to negotiate with. He didn’t even ask for human blood. He’d been content to feed off animals alone, if it meant he could have a stable home again.
Ratio’s arms tightened around the Aventurine in the present. Remembering his boyfriend disheveled and pathetic, grasping for the literal bare minimum he needed to survive, always made him protective. Aventurine patted softly at his back, knowing full well what memories Ratio was embroiled in. “It’s alright,” he said soothingly, “we’re okay now. Both of us.”
Of course. Aventurine hadn’t been the only one in a difficult situation at the time. Ratio had been drowning in an endless spiral of rejection and stagnation, enough to drive him into the night to find peace. It was practically suicidal of him. He’d never wanted to die, but roaming around at night, alone, bearing a light source - he might as well have brought along a Free Meal sign. But the vampires had rejected him just as much as his fellow humans. At least when he did meet one, it was one with enough humanity to beg and negotiate.
“I know,” Ratio said, closing his eyes. “I know.”
Aventurine dragged his fingers up Ratio’s spine, making him shiver. “How much work did you bring home? I was thinking it might be a good night for a movie or two. Or making a week’s worth of brownies to snack on. That’d be good too.”
“You and your sweet tooth.” Ratio shook his head. “Were you this hungry for sugar when you were alive? Or is your inability to benefit from human food to blame?”
“I never had sugar while I was alive.” He could hear Aventurine pouting. “Poor and old, remember? I got to try honey a few times, I could try sucking on sap, but the thought of baking anything other than bread was just a waste. And I didn’t really get human food other than meat and tea before you. And those were for performance.”
Ratio bit down on his questions about Aventurine’s former keepers. He hated making Aventurine think about his two centuries of captivity and service. “Poor diet may not harm you,” he said, “but I still have to encourage you to have some variety. You’re awfully prone to eating the same thing for weeks on end.”
Aventurine shrugged. “I’ll eat the same thing forever as actual meals, too,” he said. “That’s the monotony. Human food is just treats. Is it bad to get attached to specific treats for a while?”
He sighed. “I suppose it isn’t,” the professor conceded. “Still, next time I go to the store, I’m getting other snacks for you too. I maintain that variety will be more enjoyable.”
They’d had this argument every few months for the past four years. Aventurine did not seek out any form of novelty in his diet; as long as he was able to feed when hungry, he seemed content. It was true for his blood needs, and it was true for his entirely optional human food treats. On the one hand, this was very convenient for Ratio, especially when Aventurine latched onto food that could simply be bought with no need for preparation. On the other hand, Ratio was very fond of variety, refusing to eat the same meal more than once a week at most. He’d learned an incredible number of ways to prepare food that would meet all his nutritional needs in various combinations, and he wanted to share those joys with his boyfriend very, very much. They had their compromises, but both would always be a little bit exasperated with the other on this specific subject.
“Anyways,” Aventurine said, “no dodging the question. How busy are you tonight? I get it if you need to start grading those exams. Or if there’s still papers. But I wanna spend time with you before you have to sleep tonight.”
Ratio scratched at Aventurine’s lower back, pleased by the way he shuddered. “Yes, I have time for you,” he said, gently kissing his shoulder. “Watching a movie together would be lovely. Or I could take you outside somewhere in an hour or two, if you’d like to roam for a while.”
“I can go flying anytime I want,” Aventurine said, pulling Ratio close and nuzzling at him more. “Or fly somewhere and shift back to human form. I can’t watch questionable movies with my very special human boyfriend while he’s sleeping for most of the night. Maybe with popcorn this time? Since you want me to switch snacks so much.”
He pressed another soft kiss to Aventurine’s shoulder, closer to his neck this time. “That could be arranged,” he said. “When were you hoping to begin?”
Aventurine’s hand dropped lower on Ratio’s back. “Maybe not immediately,” he said, rubbing a finger back and forth over one particular vertebra. “Sun’s not fully down yet. Maybe we spend a little time down here first. What do you say?”
Ratio huffed softly and smiled. “It’s not difficult to persuade me.”
-----
Two hours later they were settling onto the squishy couch in their living room, Ratio maneuvering them to the movie they’d chosen off Netflix, Aventurine digging into the double batch of caramel-covered popcorn. “You’re lucky that won’t ruin your teeth,” Ratio remarked, ignoring the fact that he’d been the one to suggest and prepare the sticky snacks.
“Basic anatomy, actually,” Aventurine said, popping another kernel into his mouth. “Our fangs are pretty much self-cleaning with a little water to rinse your mouth out. A toothbrush is basically only good for the smell.”
Ratio’s nose wrinkled at the thought of what bacterial colonies may be in the average vampiric mouth with so little need for hygienic caution. “A valuable fact to know,” he said. “You do use the supplies I give you, though, yes?”
“Of course, doc.” Aventurine’s voice went soft in a way that always left Ratio feeling weak and squishy, especially with that matching small smile. “Maybe I don’t think I need it, but it makes you happy, right? And you don’t ask me for much. If nothing else, you kiss me more if I smell and taste better.”
Ratio leaned over and gave Aventurine a quick peck on the lips. “That is true. I appreciate your effort, especially knowing it’s selfless.”
Aventurine chased him and kissed him back. “Who said it’s selfless? I like your kisses. You give me more if I do what you want. Math’s pretty simple, doctor.”
Ratio gently nipped at his boyfriend’s lower lip. “It has more to do with making me happy, though, does it not? Your additional kisses are a secondary reward by far compared to that. You’ve always been a people pleaser, no?”
The vampire huffed a laugh before kissing him again. “A Ratio pleaser, maybe. You’re the one who doesn’t make it necessary for survival.”
The doctor moved the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table so he could close the distance and kiss Aventurine more soundly. “Your safety should not depend upon a capricious man’s pleasure,” he murmured into the gap between their lips. “As long as I live, I intend to offer you a steady foundation for your own life. Today and for a hundred thousand days, Aventurine, I will work to keep you safe, because in my eyes you deserve it.”
They broke their kisses to settle their foreheads against each other. “You won’t live that long,” Aventurine said quietly, eyes closed. “A hundred thousand days has to be a couple centuries. I know you mean it as the rest of your life, just…”
Ratio’s hand found Aventurine’s and he ran his thumb along his boyfriend’s knuckles. “I know,” he said. “It’s small compared to your own lifespan. And I’m not ready to give up the mortal world just yet. But I’ll figure something out, and if I don’t… then we’ll see.”
Unspoken emotions drifted between them. Fear, mostly. Aventurine didn’t say it often, but he was terrified of losing Ratio - partially for the comfortable life Ratio provided, but mostly because everything Aventurine had ever loved had been ripped away from him, torn to pieces, and stomped into the bloody mud before his eyes. Desperation and pain had been his home for centuries, and then even that was taken from him via attempted execution. And even Ratio couldn’t guarantee there would be no more disruptions now that they’d found each other; if Aventurine were discovered again, or even suspected to exist, the best case scenario was another abrupt relocation to another new home. At worst, the both of them would die for the crime of a shared life between human and vampire. It didn’t matter how well-behaved Aventurine could be; one look at his eyes and fangs, and humans would feel completely justified in ending him once and for all.
And Ratio’s own fears? Mostly that he wouldn’t be good enough. He was fully convinced that Aventurine would never betray him, that wasn’t his concern - but his research on vampirism wasn’t just for public safety. No, in the years since finding his boyfriend he’d started an offshoot project, a way to create a better immortality. If he used vampirism as a base, if he could just connect all the right sciences and the right lenses and the right experiments, he might be able to create a cure for vampires and mortals alike: something with all the important benefits and none of the disastrous consequences. Vampires were currently an apocalypse in motion, but if he could just find a better solution - maybe he’d be able to stay with Aventurine for a hundred thousand days after all.
As far as anyone knew he was simply researching a cure for vampirism. It wasn’t a unique project; every university on the planet had at least one cure in the works. Ratio allowed people to think he was simply an aloof genius convinced he could do it better on his own; anything to keep his research from being leaked and scrutinized. But if he failed… it wasn’t just a question of how many unwilling vampires he wouldn’t be able to save. He would be forced to choose between abandoning Aventurine or becoming a very vulnerable part of the apocalypse he strove to end.
“Hey,” Aventurine said at last, free hand reaching up to brush Ratio’s cheekbone. “Forget about movie night. How about we go lie in your bed for a while instead? Kinda just wanna hold you right now.”
Ratio nodded without pulling his face away from Aventurine’s. “I would like that. You could put your popcorn in your room while fetching your pajamas.”
“Save it for later,” Aventurine agreed, pushing his fingers into Ratio’s hair. “Maybe after I grab some lunch from the squirrels. It’ll still be fresh enough to feel like you’re there.”
It took a few more minutes for them to move, each unwilling to create physical distance no matter how much closer they’d be in bed. They were already so close on the couch, already pulling each other further into orbit one little movement at a time. But Ratio’s first yawn, small and involuntary, convinced them to pull back and move to maximize how much time they’d have together before he inevitably fell asleep.
Once they were in bed together, pajama-clad and tucked in under cotton sheets and wool blankets, they were intertwined like snakes. Arms, legs, they would’ve wrapped their torsos together if they could. They lay face to face so they could keep trading kisses and sharing breath, even if Aventurine didn’t need to breathe.
“I love you,” Aventurine whispered, pressing a kiss to an increasingly sleepy Ratio’s forehead.
“Love you too,” the doctor mumbled back, scratching haphazardly at Aventurine’s spine. “Wish I could show you more.”
“Silly thing,” Aventurine laughed. “You show me more and more every day. You show me with everything you do.”
“Sunrise,” Ratio said sleepily, now too out of it to keep scratching. “‘ll show you sunrise one day.”
Aventurine went still, looking down at the doctor as he slipped into sleep, cuddling impossibly closer to his chest.
“Maybe you will,” he said softly, brushing the hair out of his boyfriend’s face. “A sunrise for you and me, one day. A miracle of our very own.”