Chapter Text
In the early morning hours of a nondescript workday, there came a knock. Two quick raps against a wooden frame.
Tap, tap.
Aventurine perked up, head lifting from where it’d been resting against his palm in a poor attempt to keep himself upright and awake. He blinked away the glazed-over look of boredom. It wasn’t often he got visitors. Anyone milling around IPC headquarters knew they could typically find him anywhere but his office. He was a busy man, after all. A busy man who hated the more tedious parts of his job. Not to mention, most people didn’t want to bother with him.
So, it wasn’t all that surprising he recognized the silhouette standing behind the fogged glass. Tall; broad shoulders; ridiculous pauldron.
“Come on in, Ratio,” drawled Aventurine, eyes rolling with each drag of his vowels.
Veritas Ratio let himself in and politely shut the door behind him. Well, as polite as Veritas Ratio could be. Everything he did seemed to be done with an air of condescension, whether he meant to or not. It was all part of this charm, term used generously.
Taking a couple of steps forward, Ratio’s eyes dropped to the mountain of paperwork piled on the desk. A single brow arched. “Perhaps another time?”
Case in point.
“Nonsense,” Aventurine said, waving off the comment with a flick of his wrist. “You came all this way just to see me, didn’t you?” He gestured to the empty chair across his desk. “Have a seat.”
Ratio ignored the offer, choosing to linger in the middle of the room with his arms folded over his chest. Aventurine wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t plan on staying long enough to warrant sitting, or if it was just to be contrary. Neither explanation would particularly surprise him.
“I won’t distract you from your work,” Ratio said with another pointed look toward the pile. “It seems as though you’ve been distracted enough already.”
“Ah, this?” Aventurine held up a paper between his fingers, waving it around like a white flag of surrender until it slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. It probably wasn’t important. “Don’t worry. It’s just some boring grunt work Topaz dropped off. Hey. What do you want to bet that these are all her reports and she’s trying to pawn them off on me?”
Ratio scoffed. “I’m not interested in your office gambles—but from what I’ve seen of your colleague’s dedication to efficiency, I’d wager that she’s far more responsible than you.”
“Oh!” Aventurine’s smile turned sharp. “Why aren’t you in her office then?”
With that, Ratio shut his mouth and turned his attention elsewhere, suddenly interested in the large window that overlooked a cubicle farm for the less fortunate IPC pawns. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Aventurine watched his dark brows knit together in frustration, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Between that and the silence, the answer was clear.
Ratio needed a favor. Not only that, but Ratio needed a favor from him.
“Did you just come to enjoy the aerial view of corporate imprisonment?” Aventurine blinked innocently, folding his hands beneath his chin, his grin stretching. “Or do you need something? Tell me, Doctor. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man—but as his luck would have it, things didn’t work that way.
After a beat, Ratio turned towards the door. “This was a mistake.”
“What? Hey, wait!” Aventurine stood and rounded the corner of his desk. His hand lifted, reaching toward Ratio’s retreating back before it limply dropped to his side. “Ah, come on! Don’t be like that. Just—hold on a minute.”
To his surprise, Ratio turned around at the request, though a scowl reflected his ever-dwindling patience. The floor was left open for him to make his case.
And so, Aventurine smiled, triumphant, and cheeky to say: “At least tell me what you want so I can turn you down properly.”
A spark of something flashed across Ratio’s face, there and gone with a quick flinch, and it was clear his joke had fallen flat. In the moment he had appeared genuinely upset—or had Aventurine imagined it? Was he imagining the tinge of pink coloring Ratio’s cheeks as well? Wow. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling so triumphant and cheeky.
“As I was saying.” Ratio cleared his throat. His eyes refused to make contact. The humiliation was palpable. “This was a mistake.”
Oh.
Their game of banter was only fun if they were both playing.
“Ratio…” The sharp edges of Aventurine’s armor softened with his voice. “It’s important, huh? I didn’t realize.”
Another beat of silence passed between them. One second, and then two.
Ratio looked over, mouth parted and eyes searching; as if he were trying to calculate the exact percentage of authenticity present in Aventurine’s character. For most, that’d easily be a figure in the negatives. For Ratio? Well, Ratio tended to be an exception to a lot of rules, as well as a thorn in Aventurine’s side because of it. The exact reasons for this were hard to discern—but then again, a lot of time was spent purposefully not discerning them.
“Potentially.”
“Potentially,” Aventurine repeated, eyebrows raising. “That’s an interesting answer.”
“Yes, well. Most things are interesting when you’re of a simple mind,” Ratio quipped. His eyes quickly widened to expose a sliver of regret. “My apologies. It’s been a long day.”
Aventurine checked his watch and grimaced. “It’s barely eight, Doctor.”
“Fascinating.” And with a suffered groan, Ratio finally sat down, head dropping into his open palms—both humbling and human. “Close the blinds.”
Uh.
Alright. This was getting to be…strange.
But even stranger was how Aventurine obeyed without a fuss, too caught off guard by the bizarreness of the situation to put up a fight or workshop a catty quip. He pulled the blinds shut and the room darkened by several degrees. A warm glow filtered in through the slats, stripping amber across the shadows of Ratio’s face. Maybe he should turn on the overhead light? Or maybe the dramatic ambiance was exactly what Ratio was going for.
Regardless, Aventurine—for once in his life—had no idea which card to play. His entire deck felt shuffled.
“Just earlier, I received correspondence from a Genius Society representative. Member #83, to be specific.”
“Herta.” Aventurine leaned against his desk, hip cocked, and arms crossed. “Emanator of the Erudition.”
“You’re familiar.” It wasn’t a question and so Aventurine didn’t answer. Ratio continued, “But, yes. Herta. The message was regarding an upcoming exposition on Xin-41, to which I’ve been formally invited.”
Aventurine blinked, raising his hands to awkwardly clap them together. “Congratulations,” he said, though the confusion bleeding through made it sound more like a question. When Ratio’s pensive expression didn’t change, he switched gears. “Condolences?”
Ratio gave a haughty laugh and shook his head. “Perhaps both.”
The Genius Society, huh? Aventurine hadn’t had any personal run-ins with any of its members—that was typically left to the Intelligentsia Guild—but he knew enough, even if it was mostly hearsay and gossip. The most prominent rumor churning in the mill was that Ratio longed to join their ranks.
So…
“I mean, this is good…right?” Aventurine asked. “Not to make assumptions, but haven’t you been waiting for something like this?”
“An invitation from the Genius Society is not an invitation from Nous.”
“Right, of course.”
Ratio’s head tilted upward, regarding him with a quiet intensity. There was something off about his gaze. It lacked the usual sharpness and contempt. All that was left was a weariness forged from the exhaustion of a man carrying the crushing weight of his own expectations. The moment suddenly felt too raw with emotion.
Aventurine looked away, picking up a random document from his desk to focus on instead. “So, why are you telling me this?” He pretended not to hear the defeated exhale, scanning over the paper in his hand detailing their upcoming assignment. “Is it going to interfere with Penacony?”
“No,” Ratio said, and Aventurine breathed a sigh of relief. “It shouldn’t. Unless.”
“Unless they offer you a seat at their table?”
“Precisely.”
Okay, so he jumped the gun on the relief bit. Even if Ratio had his doubts, Aventurine didn’t find it too far-fetched to consider. Ratio was the embodiment of erudition, after all. A formal request was long overdue.
But damn. That certainly threw a wrench in his plans for Penacony.
“But that’s not why I’m here.” Ratio pulled out his phone. “Here.”
Aventurine took it, blinking down at the screen to find that the message log from Herta was already pulled up. He scanned the wall of text, gently mouthing along as he read. Most of it covered what Ratio had already told him. There was an exposition hosted by the Genius Society on Xin-41; Ratio was asked to attend as an esteemed guest; and that his cooperation would earn him favor within the Society.
Aventurine clocked the exact moment the messages switched from automated to Herta herself.
Oh.
Things were starting to add up.
Aventurine lowered the phone slowly, turning his attention back to Ratio who was once again burying his face in his hands. “You lied.”
Ratio groaned, head lifting with a glare. “Is that all you were able to glean from the conversation?”
“Easy, Doctor. I’m trying to help.” Was he? Aventurine wasn’t sure, but he certainly wasn’t used to seeing Ratio this out of sorts. It felt like he had to do something. “And that does seem to be the crux of your problem.”
“No, you’re…you’re right.”
“Oh?” In an attempt to lighten the mood, Aventurine grinned and snatched a pen from his desk. “Can I get that in writing?”
And just like that, Ratio’s scowl returned. All was right with the universe once more. Maybe a dose of their usual banter would help to ease his tension.
“The only thing I’ll be writing is your eulogy,” Ratio hissed.
Even if the bite lacked its usual venom Aventurine’s fingers still clenched around the paper he held, distorting the text that read: Penacony. That briefing would come later. No sense in sullying the mood with future plans.
He smiled. “Just make it a nice one, okay?”
Ratio eyed him, a look of bewilderment flashing across his handsome face before he scoffed. “I’m joking.”
“So am I,” Aventurine lied. “But you should work on your delivery. The timing is just a little off.”
Again, Ratio groaned—this one even more dramatic than the last. He stood from the chair, brushing non-existent wrinkles from the sash draped over his shoulder. Maybe it was too busy his hands enough to hide the tremor.
“So,” Aventurine continued, pushing off the desk. “Why did you lie?”
The question brought an abrupt stillness to the air, rendering it stagnant; there was only silence, save for the faint sound of life outside the office walls. Ratio watched him silently, mouth pressed into a thin line. A subtle shift in his pupils showed that he was once again searching for an answer in Aventurine. But why? It was a pointless endeavor, really. No one ever found anything. There was nothing left to find. Just fake smiles and fake promises and a silver tongue gilded by the IPC.
(Fake, fake, fake, a voice said.)
“It’s far too complicated,” came the answer. Aventurine highly doubted that but kept his opinion to himself, watching as Ratio turned to face the window with a sigh. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.”
Aventurine flinched. Ouch.
Well. Wasn’t that just typical? Another classic example of insensitivity from the good doctor himself. A small part of Aventurine’s morbid curiosity wanted to ask Ratio what he meant by that, someone like him, but he already knew, didn’t he? No reason to salt his wounds further.
So, instead, he asked, “Understand what?”
The angle still allowed for the slight glimpse of Ratio’s clenching jaw; fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. Sometimes silence was an answer. But that wasn’t good enough.
“What?” Aventurine pressed, fully aware that his mask was slipping. “Please, by all means, enlighten me.”
“Aventurine,” said lowly and as a warning.
“No, please, I insist.”
“Fine,” Ratio growled, whipping around to face him. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I’ve witnessed your proclivities firsthand.”
“Proclivities?” Aventurine balked, unable to stop his gregarious facade from cracking.
“How many of our assignments have ended with you in the bed of another—” But the sentence ended there, Ratio cutting himself off to rub at his temple. “Your negotiation tactics are not lost on me,” he said after a moment, calmer than before. “I can’t expect you to understand the concept of—”
“Loneliness?”
Ratio glanced away; one simple gesture that told Aventurine all he needed to know. He was right.
Again.
“Oh, Doctor,” he said with a breathy sigh, shaking his head. “You know, you could have just called me a whore, it would’ve taken you far fewer words.”
“I didn’t.” Ratio opened and closed his mouth, stammering over nothing until he found his voice again. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Relax. It’s fine. I mean, you aren’t exactly wrong. Sure, my methods tend to be a little more unorthodox than yours, but I always get the job done.” Aventurine fixed Ratio with a slow and sultry blink, a patented trick of his trade. Lowered his voice to a purr and took a step forward, close enough to drag gloved fingertips down Ratio’s arm. A shiver had his smile turning sharp. “Don’t I?”
For a moment, Ratio’s eyes glazed over, dropping to where fingers danced along his skin. A hitch in his breath. See? Even a genius like Veritas Ratio wasn’t immune to carnal desires of the flesh, however fleeting. The tension snapped, blowing away the fog that’s built between them.
“I only meant to ask for your company,” Ratio said, delicately plucking Aventurine by the wrist and removing his hand. “Not to offend.”
Hah.
It wasn’t the implication that he was a whore that offended Aventurine the most, but suggesting he didn’t understand loneliness. Loneliness, the one thing he understood so very deeply; so intimately. His body? That was just a tool he'd sharpened against the whetstone of a hard life, forged into a weapon he could wield. His soul and the empty void that consumed it?
Well, now that was just getting too personal.
But how could Ratio understand? Aventurine had only ever shown the opposite to be true. A pretty lie wrapped in jewelry and flashy clothes. An ever-present smile. A hand hidden behind his back.
“It’s fine, really.” Stepping back, he adjusted his watch so that the band better covered an old shackle scar. “And to answer your question—yes, I’ll happily be your escort.”
“Companion,” Ratio corrected.
“Friend?”
“Colleague.”
“Personal?”
“Professional.”
Aventurine smiled and held out his hand, both an offering of truce and contract. “Deal.”
“It isn’t wise to make deals with gamblers,” Ratio said, but slotted his hand against Aventurine’s waiting palm all the same.
“And yet? Here you are.” Pulling back, Aventurine curled his fingers into a fist to trap the lingering warmth. Beneath the leather glove, his skin yearned for physical touch. Within the chasm of his chest, his heart yearned for…
“Hey, Doc, can I ask a favor? There’s something I’d like for you to try.”
Ratio, looking down at his hand, turned it over to examine his knuckles, and then back around to inspect the pads of his fingers. “Hm?”
“Compliment me.”
Ah. Suddenly the back of his hand wasn’t so interesting. Ratio looked up, eyes comically wide. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Compliment me. Just one. Say one nice thing about me and I’ll go with you to your little banquet.”
“You’d go back on your word so quickly?”
“Ah, ah!” Aventurine wagged a finger and clicked his tongue. “It isn’t wise to trust a gambler. Who said that? I believe it was some genius doctor. Veritas Ratio, maybe?”
Ratio turned his head, but the shadows did little to hide the flush. It colored the high points of his cheeks, dusting to the tips of his ears. “I said it wasn’t wise to make deals. I mentioned nothing of trust. Fact check before you paraphrase.”
Aventurine snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re off to a great start, by the way.”
“Incorrigible.”
“Funny. I’d say the same of your flattery techniques.”
Aventurine gazed up at him, eyelashes fluttering. He knew how he looked like this, flirty and alluring; it was a look that’d won him many gambles. But Ratio was always a wild card when it came to his personal brand of charm. There were times when it almost seemed to work—and then there were times where his advances flatlined completely.
Times like now.
A large hand eclipsed Aventurine’s face, gently shoving him back. The genuine brightness of his laugh was muffled beneath Ratio’s palm, and he stumbled to catch himself on his desk. He grinned up at Ratio, eyes wild.
“It’s an infuriating thing to watch,” Ratio said, a slight scoff in his voice. His arms folded over his chest, chin tilting upward. “Your mind is just as beautiful as your body, and yet you refuse to use it.”
Wait—what?
Aventurine froze, goosebumps prickling in his skin as his face heated. His heart stopped and then resumed, beating rapidly against his chest, all in quick succession. His mouth opened but not a sound came out.
He hadn’t been expecting that.
Even bracketed with insults, the compliments had him flustering. Ratio took advantage of the moment, stepping forward to place two fingers against Aventurine’s pulse point. The simple touch was enough to have his knees buckling. Skin-on-skin. His hand curled around the edge of the desk. His jaw clenched.
“What are you doing?”
“Judging by the dilation of your pupils and your accelerated heart rate? Passing your test.”
Aced it, actually—but Aventurine refused to say so. The warm feeling spreading through his chest was humiliating enough.
He pushed Ratio’s hand away, groaning in frustration. “Okay, fine. You win.”
“Perhaps I could get that in writing,” came the quick reply, an echo of Aventurine’s earlier teasing. There was a slight smirk pulled on Ratio’s lips, one that landed itself halfway between smug and endearing.
Aventurine pulled out his phone and looked at that instead. “How about you just forward me the details so I can get clearance for this excursion?”
“Of course,” said Ratio and just like that, professionalism replaced playfulness. Crisis averted. “Do you suspect it’ll be an issue?”
Ping!
Aventurine waved him off, scanning over the itinerary. The dates were doable, a couple of weeks away but far enough out from their next assignment that it wouldn’t be cutting it close. Six days in total—arrive at Herta Space Station for the first night, and then off to Xin-41 for the remainder of the trip.
“My schedule is clear from now until Penacony,” he said airily, forwarding the message to Jade. “And besides, if worse comes to worst, I’ll pitch it as an investment.”
Ratio’s brow furrowed. “I’m inviting you, not the IPC.”
Aventurine put his hand on Ratio’s shoulder and squeezed. The smile he gave was reassuring, if not a bit conspiring. “I know, and that’s why we lie, Doctor.”
“A habit of yours?”
Ah, Veritas Ratio—honest as his namesake. Even when he didn’t need to be; even when lying would be kinder.
“No, not really,” Aventurine answered honestly. His hand retreated after two firm pats. “Think of it like this, Doc. Not everyone deserves my truth. See, lies are like lengths of rope.”
“Rope,” Ratio parroted, unimpressed.
“Yes. Rope. They’ll either pull you from the trenches, or they’ll wrap around your neck. Helpful—or a hindrance. It all depends on how you use them.”
Ratio seemed to consider this. The pieces were falling into place, an answer to Aventurine’s early question. Why did he lie to Herta? The answer was clear as day.
“Survival or surrender,” Ratio muttered to himself, tapping a knuckle against his chin.
Aventurine’s smile stretched into a manic sort of grin. What a fascinating answer that was—he really hadn’t expected Ratio, of all people, to get it. “Exactly! My, you are an adaptive learner. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, yeah?” He slipped around the desk and dropped into his chair. “For now, just get your hands on that form and—”
“It’s been taken care of.”
Aventurine paused in straightening a stack of invoices. His eyes flicked over to Ratio; a single eyebrow raised. “Oh?”
Ratio shifted uncomfortably. “The appropriate measures have been taken,” he said. “You’ve already been registered as my guest.”
Aventurine blinked slowly. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Carefully, he sat the papers back down, lacing his fingers beneath his chin. “Risky gamble. I’m impressed.”
The noise Ratio made was downright undignified, somewhere between a scoff and choke. “It wasn’t a gamble. I simply made an educated guess as to your decision and secured a vacancy. It was to save time and trouble, nothing more.”
Adorable.
Aventurine tilted his head, his mirth ever-growing. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“No other reason?”
Truth be told, Aventurine wasn’t sure what answer he was fishing for. But, to his recollection, Ratio had never floundered like this, and it was very entertaining to watch. Delightful, even.
At the door, Ratio paused. His fingers curled around the handle but didn’t twist. “I don’t imagine the exposition will hold much interest to you—or the company of the Genius Society. Truth be told, I find them quite tedious myself.”
“You find everyone tedious,” Aventurine countered, though he did agree. A party hosted by pompous, stuffy geniuses didn’t sound much like a party at all.
“As I was saying,” Ratio pointedly continued, annoyance palpable, “while Xin-41 isn’t exactly on par with the Planet of Festivities in terms of frivolous indulgence, I do think you’ll find the local customs more suited to your tastes.”
“I see.”
“And I believe, potentially, that it could be…” A pause. Ratio was struggling, mouth twisting unpleasantly. Aventurine waited with bated breath and the patience of a saint. “Fun.”
“I see,” Aventurine said again. That light, fluttering feeling was back. He smiled bright and plastic, something artificial to hide his genuine giddiness. Anything too real and he might crack. “I look forward to it then!”
Ratio opened the door, though he was quick to linger. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lazily resting his chin against an open palm, Aventurine waved him out with a wiggle of fingers. The door shut. The office went silent, air stagnant yet crackling with the remnants of tension. A strange feeling tugged in Aventurine’s chest in the absence. He’d describe it as melancholy if he didn’t already know the cause.
And said to an empty room, “I look forward to it.”