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Ratio agreed to go out for dinner every time Aventurine asked him to, without fail. It became a weekly habit of theirs, meeting after work to go out. They played these meetings off as impromptu, fancy-seeing-you-here, purely convenient ways to get a quick meal in. They acted as though there wasn’t much thought put into them. Just pick one of Pier Point’s countless food options, eat, talk a bit, and leave. If asked about the purpose of doing this by anyone else, they would both easily claim nonchalance, as if sharing a meal with one another meant very little. But truly, these meetings meant more to both than simple convenience. How could they not? Not when the meetings were made of long conversations and soft smiles. When their inhibitions were lowered by alcohol and the lively environments of the restaurants. When they’d begun to linger outside after eating, neither exactly willing to say goodnight first, and keep a distance that felt safe until they both decided to walk away. It was not only about food, but something more. The meals were just the simplest way to get to that ‘something.’
Ratio didn’t usually ask Aventurine to go out for dinner with him. It was almost always Aventurine’s prerogative, and neither minded it that way. He knew and found charming the amount of consideration Aventurine put into these invitations, though he wouldn’t say this out loud. Tonight, they were out late, having just gotten away from a long meeting. They were at a place that Aventurine suggested because it didn't close until after midnight. They were eating somewhat unhealthy bar food (because Aventurine was the only person who could convince Ratio to indulge in it) and talking about the day's events. After they'd complained about the boring meeting for long enough, Aventurine pivoted the conversation.
“You know, as much as I like going out, sometimes I crave a good home-cooked meal.” Aventurine cast the statement onto the table like he was rolling dice. It was Ratio’s turn. He picked up the statement without thinking twice and cast out his own.
“I can give you that.” Aventurine’s lips formed a tiny smile. They’ve both won this impromptu game.
“You can?” Aventurine replied, not disguising the interest in his voice.
“Yes.”
“However do you mean?”
“At… my… apartment?” Ratio said, not at all confidently. He wasn’t sure he thought the suggestion through before making it, but he’d die before taking it back. “I have a good sized kitchen and plenty of food. Come over on Friday night. I can make dinner for you.” This last sentence did something subtle to change the meaning of the entire offer, and they both knew it.
“You’ve been to mine several times, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to your home before.” This fact added terrifyingly to Ratio’s normally very low anxiety level.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said out loud, more to himself. Aventurine laughed.
“Of course it will. That sounds great, Ratio. I’ll be there.”
Friday night rolled around, and Ratio’s normally very low anxiety level was at an all time high. His apartment was rarely messy, but he still spent over an hour cleaning things that didn’t need to be cleaned, and double-triple checking his refrigerator for the ingredients he knew were in it. He sent Aventurine a text message containing his address and sat down on his couch with his back straight and his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure why he was so on edge about something that seemed very simple. Aventurine, his good friend, was coming over to his house for the first time, and Ratio was going to make him dinner. That should be so inconsequential, require very little overthinking. Yet, here he was.
Ratio practically sprinted to the door when he heard a rhythmic knock, opening it slowly so as not to appear like a madman. Aventurine stood just behind the doormat, smiling brightly. He was wearing casual, comfortable clothing, and Ratio breathed a sigh of relief to himself that they were on the same page. Aventurine sighed out loud, crossing the threshold into the apartment.
“Thank goodness, I wasn’t sure what the dress code was.” Before Ratio could comment that he was thinking the same, a bottle of golden liquid was pressed into his hands, paired with a “here, I brought this.” He stared down at the alcohol for a few moments, then looked back up.
“This is not a damn housewarming, you idiot.” Aventurine snorted.
“Ungrateful much? Why does that matter?”
“Because— no, forget it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Aventurine said smugly. He looked around the apartment. “This place is really nice, doc.”
“Thank you.” Ratio thought back on every design choice he’s ever made and thanked his past self for making them. Aventurine leaned against the arm of the couch.
“It’s so cozy. You should have invited me over sooner instead of tolerating coming to my boring place.”
“It’s not so much about the place as much as it’s about…” ‘Who I’m with’ failed to leave Ratio’s lips, and he changed the subject as flawlessly as a high school student’s mediocre essay. “Are you hungry, gambler?”
“Sure. I’m interested to try another person’s home cooked food instead of my own.”
“What is your current skill level when it comes to cooking?” Ratio walked to the kitchen, and Aventurine trailed close behind.
“I’m not completely helpless. I can boil a mean pot of water.”
“You aren’t helpless at all, dear gambler. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, you’ve survived this long.”
“Anyway, what are you making?”
“Dough.”
“An instant classic. So many possibilities.” Ratio rolled his eyes, taking flour, yeast, and sugar out of their places in the pantry and putting them on the counter.
“Can you get me a bowl?” Aventurine opened and closed three cabinets before finding one. Ratio took out his measuring spoons— a colorful novelty set he’d gotten as a gift years ago— and carefully opened the papery packaging of the flour and sugar.
“I’m clearly in the presence of an expert,” Aventurine said as Ratio easily leveled off the dry ingredients and poured them into the bowl.
“I’ve made bread a hundred times. You start to memorize recipes after you’ve made them enough.” Ratio paused his measuring to take a small box from the top of the fridge and hand it to Aventurine. “Here.” Aventurine opened it.
“Wow.” He shuffled through the small slips of paper, years’ worth of recipes Ratio has collected, refined, and kept. “This is so… so personal.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.” Aventurine held one of the papers closer to his face, likely trying to decipher Ratio’s messier handwriting. “It was personal in my clan. We treated others’ cooking with respect, and everyone shared recipes with each other. I find it intimate.”
“Intimate,” Ratio repeated softly, now stirring the sticky mixture. He lightly tossed his head back in an attempt to move hair out of his eyes. Aventurine laughed.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, putting a hand in his pocket and pulling out a small green hair tie. Ratio held his breath when Aventurine gently gathered his hair back and wrapped the band around it. He exhaled when the hold on his hair released, but Aventurine made a point of grazing cool fingers against his neck before pulling away.
“Gambler,” he scolded as a visible chill ran through his body.
“Yes?”
“You—” Ratio sighed, putting the dough-covered spoon down and sprinkling flour over the counter. He scooped the contents of the bowl on top of the flour. “Thank you. Knead this for me. I’m going to make a salad.”
“Do you have to?”
“You’re childish. And I’m not seeing any kneading.” Aventurine rolled his sleeves up and took over Ratio’s spot. Ratio pulled a few vegetables out of the fridge, washed them off, and set them down to start cutting them. After several minutes of comfortable silence filled by the sounds of a knife blade against the cutting board, he glanced over his shoulder in time to see Aventurine poke at the dough with one finger.
“My god, gambler,” he said sarcastically. “If you were any more passionate about that I’d suggest you pick up a new day job.”
“Oh, shut up. I had it. You looked at the worst time.” Ratio set down his knife and, with a brief lapse in judgment, walked over to stand behind him, sliding his hands over Aventurine’s.
“I’ll still help you, just to be sure.” He held Aventurine’s hands tighter and moved his own arms back and forth so they were both pressing at the soft dough.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked gently.
“No,” Aventurine said. “Not at all.” The strained quality of his voice said otherwise. Ratio was about to ask a second time, but realized terribly late that the issue might just be unrelated to whether or not Aventurine was in pain.
“Oh,” he said under his breath, and made to draw back and let go. Quickly, unexpectedly, Aventurine grabbed one of his wrists.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, looking behind himself to glare at Ratio.
“What? I’m stepping out of your personal space.”
“I thought you were helping me.”
“You don’t… didn’t you just say you had it?”
“That was before you started helping me.”
“Gambler, what are you talking about?”
“You’re so much more talented at it.”
“At kneading dough?” Aventurine moved his own hands again. He slowly flipped them over and took hold of Ratio’s, lacing their fingers together.
“Goddess, Ratio. Take the hint.” Ratio didn’t speak for several seconds until it clicked.
“Oh.” Going along with the realization, he took a step forward again. His chest pressed up to Aventurine’s shoulders, arms wrapped partially around his waist to reach the counter. Piloting Aventurine’s soft hands, he resumed the molding of the dough. With every slow back-and-forth movement, he felt the subtle motions of Aventurine’s back muscles against his chest. When he tilted his head down, he detected the scents of Aventurine’s cologne and whatever expensive products he used in his hair. Ratio could barely breathe, and his brain was running at a brisk pace.
He’s so, so close. Too close. Ratio didn’t think they’d ever been this close. All their prior meetings were careful, every movement a calculated, subtle performance. But this meeting is private. They’re in the warm comfort of Ratio’s home— what need is there to perform, to keep a safe distance? Ratio inhaled, the proximity overwhelming his senses and making his heart do flips in his chest. He silently breathed out, looking down at the way his hands covered over Aventurine’s. As he looked, Aventurine— without warning— moved his arm, turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and lightly smacked a flour-covered hand onto Ratio’s cheek. Ratio stumbled back, more caught off guard than hurt, as a white, powdery cloud appeared and disappeared next to his face. He coughed once, and Aventurine burst into laughter. Ratio stood perplexed in the middle of his kitchen, watching Aventurine laugh and feeling his own face go warm.
“I’m sorry,” Aventurine said after catching his breath. He smiled warmly up at Ratio, who suddenly felt very faint.
“What was that for?”
“Are you nervous, Ratio?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I could feel your heart.”
“YOU COULD NOT,” Ratio all but shouted, mortified.
“Oh, I could. It was going pretty fast.” Aventurine grabbed a towel that was hanging on the oven door. He wiped his own hands off, then reached up to Ratio to clear away the hand-shaped mess of flour on his cheek. Ratio let Aventurine hold the clean side of his face steady with a gentle hand.
“I wasn't nervous,” he muttered when Aventurine tossed the towel to the side. He washed the sticky dough off of his hands and went back to chopping his vegetables. “Anyway, we’re going to be here all night if I don’t move faster.”
“You don’t need to do move faster.”
“You said you were hungry. I do not plan to take three hours to make a simple meal.”
“Veritas Ratio, you are extremely bad at taking hints.”
“You need to quit being coy and say things outright.” Aventurine hummed.
“I changed my mind. Get moving with that salad.” Ratio tried not to smile as he finished dumping ingredients into a bowl and mixing them together.
“As you wish.” He separated the dough into several pieces to make them into pockets. “Gambler, talk about something to keep me entertained.” Aventurine did. He talked about all the gossip going on at the IPC. It wasn’t particularly entertaining, but Ratio had found long ago that he could listen to Aventurine’s voice all day, no matter what he was talking about. He filled the makeshift pockets of dough with cheese and meat, poured melted butter over them, and stuck them in the Omni-Synthesizer. Aventurine hopped off of his perch on a clean section of the counter.
“How about that whiskey?” he said. Ratio held out a hand, into which the heavy bottle was deposited. He found two small glasses and filled both of them about a sixth of the way full.
“You know what would make tonight even better?” Aventurine asked, accepting the glass.
“What?”
If you had one of those cute little aprons to wear.”
“I do not ever intend to wear one of those cute little aprons. But thank you for the suggestion.”
“…Doctor.”
“What is it, dear gambler?”
“Is this a date?” Ratio blinked, swallowing a burning sip of alcohol. “You told me I need to say things outright. So I’m asking.”
“Is this so different from what we’ve been doing for almost a year?” Aventurine absentmindedly moved his glass in a circle, the liquid making a tiny whirlpool.
“I think there’s a difference between us going to a packed bar after work and you going out of your way to invite me over and make me dinner.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I mean, it’s fine if you didn’t mean it like that. I’m content if you just… want to hold my hands and get real close to me in a completely platonic way.” Ratio chose to ignore the last part.
“It's certainly crossed my mind a few times. But we've never cared to put the name on it.”
“I wouldn’t mind if we called this one a date. We could even call more of our outings dates.” They stared at each other with uncertain, almost shy expressions.
“Did your heart just speed up again?” Aventurine asked with a grin.
“No,” Ratio replied, even though it had.
“I’m just saying I like this. A nice couple of hours spent inside. I might even prefer this to going to restaurants all the time. I like being a homebody.”
“You do? When you always invite me out to places, find fancy cuisines to try?”
“It’s not just about the food, Ratio. I like being around you. If you’re in agreement, I'd love to come over here again.”
“Yes. Of course.” The Omni-Synthesizer chimed, and Ratio turned to relocate its tray to the counter. “It’s a date.”
“One more thing.”
“What is it?”
“If this is a date, can you kiss me goodnight before I leave?”
“Yes, I can. Is that going to be a new occurrence, too?”
“If all goes well.” Ratio turned away from him to take two plates out of a cabinet, taking an extra split second to close his eyes and allow himself a brief moment of celebration. He filled a plate with food and handed it to Aventurine before getting his own. They sat at the kitchen table side by side, rather than on opposite sides. All the times they'd sat at restaurant bars instead of booths made them realize they preferred to be next to each other.
“Are you attracted to me, Ratio?” Aventurine asked bluntly around a mouthful of salad. Ratio laughed.
“What's the purpose of that question?”
“I mean, if we're going to be dating, it might be nice if you actually like the person you're with.”
“You're such an idiot, gambler. You are beautiful, and that is the least of my concerns.” For the first time tonight, it was Aventurine’s turn to be speechless. “Did your heartbeat just speed up?” Aventurine gave him a dirty look.
“Gambler, I have been more than happy to spend evenings with you for the past year. I quite enjoy our sharing meals, our conversations.”
“You’ve dated before, haven't you?”
“Once or twice. Interesting choice, asking about exes on the first date.” Aventurine laughed.
“I knew that flattery came from practice.”
“How is the food?” Ratio asked.
“It's incredible. You know how to make a man happy, my friend.”
They quietly ate and talked until their plates contained only small scraps and they'd run out of things to talk about. Aventurine drained the remainder of his alcohol and traced a finger around the rim of the glass, staring softly at Ratio.
“What?” Ratio asked.
“Oh, nothing. I've enjoyed tonight.”
“So have I.” Ratio stood up and took their plates to the sink to wash them.
“Need help with anything?”
“Don't be silly.” Aventurine laughed, following Ratio over and Ieaning against him while he scrubbed at the dishes.
“We never touch like this,” he mumbled, cheek pressed into Ratio’s back.
“We rarely touch at all. We've always kept our distance when we're out.”
“I didn't realize how nice it would feel to be so close to you.” Ratio set the last clean dish into the rack, dried his hands on his pants, and turned around. Wordlessly, he pulled Aventurine into a hug. Aventurine practically melted into it without hesitation, wrapping his arms snugly around his waist. He's right, Ratio thought. I never realized how nice it would feel, either.
They stood like this for a long while, until Aventurine pulled away with what felt to Ratio like a tremendous amount of willpower.
“I should go,” he said, starting backwards toward the front door without taking his eyes or hands off of Ratio. Ratio followed, not taking his eyes or hands off of Aventurine.
“Alright.”
“But I'll see you soon.”
“Naturally. Please, come over after work sometime next week.”
“I will. Thank you for dinner, doctor.”
“Of course. If I can ensure you aren't just eating takeout all the time, I'm happy to provide.” Aventurine smiled.
“You going to kiss me, or have you forgotten?”
“I would never forget about a promise like that.” Ratio’s head was spinning, and he felt his resolve wavering by the second. Still, though, he leaned in and kissed Aventurine's lips with all the kind softness he had in his body. It was chaste and innocent, and quick enough to leave them both wanting and wondering. When Ratio pulled back, Aventurine seemed at a loss for words again.
“I—” he reached for the door handle twice and missed both times. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.” Ratio opened the door, and Aventurine stepped out into the hallway. “Let me know when you're home safe, dear gambler.”
“I will. Goodnight, doc.”
“Goodnight.” Ratio slowly closed the door. He lowered himself to crouch on the carpet, folding his hands over his face. He felt addicted to the night's quiet events, immediately wanting to feel Aventurine's body melt against his again. He stood up and took a shaky breath, returning to his kitchen to finish cleaning. The apartment, usually the perfect size, felt much too big without another person there. Ratio opened his fridge, already planning what to make for him next week. He smiled softly, looking forward, even more than usual, to seeing Aventurine again.