Chapter Text
Aventurine stood before the bedroom mirror, cataloging what he had to work with.
Ratio's white T-shirt embraced him, carried the faint scent of Ratio's detergent. It smells like something woodsy, and safety, if safety even has a scent. Aventurine's fingers found the hem, prepared to pull it off and fold it neatly, return it when this is all over.
His hand stilled.
His own clothes waited for him, or what had survived, anyway. The black velvet corset, the white coat, still looking overall pristine and presentable despite everything. But his peacock-green silk shirt was gone. Torn apart by Silas, and left at the site. Even if it had survived, Aventurine wasn't sure he could bear to wear it again, not with the memory of those hands on the buttons, the sound of ripping silk.He looked back at the T-shirt, Ratio's T-shirt.
He would keep it on.Hidden beneath his costume, pressed against his skin, a reminder of who had pulled him from that nightmare and stayed through the aftermath.
Aventurine tucked the T-shirt into his dress pants, smoothing the fabric until it lay flat. The white cotton was plain, soothing, and unpretentious, but somehow it felt right. He fasten his belt around his dress pants properly, then donned the corset. His hands found the black velvet, feeling its weight and structure. This piece was the backbone in the mose literal sense, with boning and lacing designed to create shape and held him upright. Aventurine wrapped the corset around his torso, feeling it settle into familiart position. The boning felt stiff against Ratio's cotton T-shirt, the contrast somehow grounding. He began fastening the front clasps closed with soft clicks, pulling the structure tighter.
The mirror showed transfomation in progress. The casual T-shirt partly disappeared beneath the black velvet, its white cotton only visible at his chest and upper arms. The expensive black velvet corset over white plain cotton should have been incongruous, but instead, it looked deliberatedly styled on him. Exactly how Aventurine would be, turning limitation into statement.
He adjusted the corset's position, ensuring it sat properly at his waist, that the lines were clean. The structure emphasized his waist and shoulders, created the silhouette he needed to project confidence.
He shrugged into his white coat with fluid grace, adding the final layer of untouchable elegance. Aventurine's hands moved with ritual precision, putting on his jewelry. Rings first, slipping each familiar one onto his fingers. The weight of them steadied his hands, making them feel less empty. The constelation of gems on his bracelet clicking softly as he fastened the clasps. Then earrings, dangling and expensive, drawing eyesights and broadcast status.
His fingers trembled slightly as he picked the cufflinks up at last. Aventurine stones embedded in gold, chips of his namesake that had traveled with him through every mission, every negotiation, every gamble. He'd reached for them countless times in Ratio's office, on the way to the gala, had tried to reach for them during the paralysis when his hands couldn't move but his mind screamed for their familiar comfort.
He shoved them into his dress pants' pocket. He needed the anchor points.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror.
Almost perfect.
Aventurine adjusted his collar one final time, ensured every external detail was flawless. The injection site on his lower abdomen gave a faint throb beneath the corset's structure, hidden and protected. His hand moved unconsciously to touch behind his right ear, finding the faint bump of his malfunctioning implant. It should be projecting rum, dark chocolate, and vanilla, but now, it remained dormant beneath his skin, leaving him exposed as if he'd walking into this meeting naked.But Ratio's T-shirt pressed against his chest with every breath, a reminder that exposure didn't have to mean alone.
Focus. He smoothed the expression back into practiced charm, gatehred his composure like gathering cards for a new hand, and opened the bedroom door.
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Ratio looked up immediately from where he'd been reviewing data on his tablet. Those golden eyes tracked over Aventurine, noting every detail the way he always did. But this time Aventurine watched those eyes pause as they lingered on the white T-shirt collar visible above black velvet, then returned to his face with something complicated in their depths.
"Better?" Aventurine asked, injecting just enough lightness into his tone.
"You look like yourself again." Ratio set down the tablet, his gaze flicked once more to the visible T-shirt collar. "Though I suspect that's precisely the problem."
That earned him a light chuckle from Aventurine, and his heart swelled with satisfaction.
Aventurine moved toward the desk where his personal communication device waited. "Jade appreciates aesthetics. Showing up on a call looking like I've been through hell would raise questions I'd rather not answer over potentially monitored channels."
"You have been through hell."
"That might be true, but there's no need for me to look the part."
He positioned himself carefully in the camera frame—good lighting, angle that would display confidence without arrogance. Years of practice made the positioning automatic, muscle memory built from countless negotiations where image mattered as much as words.
Ratio had moved to stand behind him, a silent presence at Aventurine's shoulder. Close enough to see the screen, far enough to not obviously intrude. Support and backup in equal measure. Aventurine's fingers found the cufflinks in his pocket, rubbing the stone as he initiated the call. The device hummed, connecting through encrypted channels. Jade always answered his calls, regardless of where she was or what she was doing. That was part of their arrangement—part of the web of obligation and mutual benefit they'd been weaving since she'd looked at a Sigonian slave and seen investment potential.
The screen flickered, resolved into clarity.
Jade appeared in her office—or one of them, anyway. Dark wood and leather, shelves lined with objects that were either priceless antiques or perfect replicas, and knowing Jade, probably the former. She sat at her desk, posture perfect from years of practice in presenting power.
"Aventurine." Her voice carried that distinctive warmth that somehow never quite reached her calculating gaze. "You look... almost yourself."
Jade could read people the way others read text—comprehensively, retaining everything, noting patterns and deviations with equal interest. She'd caught something in his appearance, some tell that anyone else would have missed.
Aventurine's smile never wavered. "Almost is better than the alternative. Though I'm touched by your concern."
Her lips curved slightly, acknowledging the game. Her gaze tracked past him, finding Ratio in the background. "And with company. How unusual for you. I thought you preferred conducting business alone."
"Doctor Ratio is my partner on this matter." Aventurine kept his tone light, professional. "He has standing in this discussion."
One of Jade's perfectly scuplted eyebrows rose fractionally. "Partner. What an interesting choice of words. Though I suppose if one is going to bring back up to a negotiation, the Intelligentsia Guild's Doctor Ratio makes for an impressive deterrence."
Ratio's voice came from behind Aventurine, dry and professional "I am here to ensure the terms remain equitable, not to deter anything."
"Of course." her smile widened fractionally, her eyes remained sharp. "Well then, shall we dispense with pleasantries? You contacted me for discreet medical care. Given that the IPC provides excellent medical benefits to all employees, espeacially the Stonehearts, I assume this requires a level of privacy that official channels can't provide."
Aventurine's finger, still inside his pants pocket, stilled on his cufflink. Jade never wasted time once business began.
"I need access to your private medical facilities. Full diagnostic and treatment capabilities. Complete discretion. No official records."
"Naturally." Jade leaned back in her chair, her expression giving away nothing. "Though I'm curious what would require such extensive privacy measures. You're not typically squeamish about official medical documentation."
She was probing, testing how much she'd need to extract versus how much he'd volunteer. Aventurine had played this game with her enough times to recognize the pattern.
"A complication from the recent mission." He tried to kept it vague, watching her closely for reaction. "I was subjected to a chemical agent that requires specialized treatment."
Something flickered across Jade's expression—too fast to name. "I see. And the nature of this compound?"
Aventurine glanced back at Ratio, a silent question. The doctor gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
"Reproductive assault agent," Aventurine said, returning his gaze to Jade's face. "Designed to override contraceptive implants, increase fertility response and Alpha pheromone's influences."
"I see." Her voice had gone dangerously quiet, each word precisely enunciated. "And the organization responsible for this... assault?"
Ratio stepped closer, positioning himself beside Aventurine "An organization that specializes in collecting and reproducing extinct bloodlines. I believe they had intelligence on Aventurine about his background and his tendencies."
Jade's eyes moved to Ratio, measuring him with new intensity. "Doctor Ratio. I've heard about your collaboration with Aventurine. I believe you have firsthand experience with this organization?"
"I extracted Aventurine from their custody," Ratio said, his voice carrying controlled anger. "I've reviewed the intelligence we gathered. They're well-funded, well-connected, and specifically targeting individuals with rare genetic profiles."
"I see." She set down her pen with very careful precision, the gesture somehow even more threatening that if she'd slammed it down. "That's unacceptable."
"We need full medical analysis and treatment," Ratio said, his tone remained steady. "And information on the organization itself. Personnel, funding sources, locations. Anything that could help us understand the scope of their operations and prevent them from trying again. They have Aventurine's biometric data, and maybe his pheromone profile. They're not going to simply abandon this investment."
Jade was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she processed, calculated, planned. Aventurine could almost see the gears turning behind those sharp eyes.
"There is a private facility that I sponsor." She said, finally. "Dr. Elara Vess specializes in reproductive endocrinology. She's one of the best in her field, and is discreet."
"In exchange for?" Aventurine asked, because with Jade there was always an exchange.
"Full intelligence you've gatehred on this organization, everything." Her fingers drummed once on her desk—another tell, this one suggesting active planning. "And a favor. Terms to be determined at a later date."
"Done." The word left Aventurine's mouth before he'd fully processed it, automatic response built from years of their arrangement. Owing Jade favors was nothing new. It was the foundation of their relationship—she provided resources, he provided results.
"No."
Ratio's voice cut through the agreement like a blade. Aventurine turned his head slightly, found the doctor's expression set in stubborn determination.
"We negotiate the favor's parameters now," Ratio continued, his gaze fixed on Jade. "Open-ended obligations are unacceptable given the circumstances."
Jade's slight smile returned, calculating and almost amused. She tilted her head slightly, studying Ratio with new focus. "I don't typically negotiate terms with third parties, Doctor Ratio. My arrangement with Aventurine has always been between the two of us."
"Doctor Ratio is my partner on this," Aventurine said, surprised by his own firmness. "He has standing to discuss terms."
Something shifted in Jade's expression. "Very well. Though I'm curious when you started accepting partnership in negotiations, Aventurine. That's remarkably unlike you."
"Circumstances change," he said simply.
"Indeed they do." Jade leaned forward slightly, her demeanor shifting into something more direct. "Let me be clear about something, Aventurine. An organization that targets Stonehearts with reproductive assault agents is a direct threat to the IPC's interests. More specifically—" her eyes hardened, "—a threat to my interests."
She paused, letting the words settle. When she continued, her voice carried an edge. "You are a valuable asset, yes. Your success rate speaks for itself. But you're also..." She seemed to choose her words carefully, each one deliberate. "You're one of mine. I invested considerable resources in your development, in transforming a Sigonian slave into a Stoneheart."
"If they want to try and reduce you back to... breeding stock..., I'll take it as a professional and personal insult."
"Jade-"
"Don't mistake sentiment for softness," she interrupted, but without real sharpness. "I don't forgive threats to my investments. And I certainly don't forgive violations of this magnitude."
She straightened, "The medical treatment—you'll have it. Dr. Vess is the best, and I'll personally ensure she has every resource necessary. The intelligence on this Silas's organization—" her smile turned predatory, "—I'll handle that personally as well."
"Handle it how?" Ratio asked, wariness in his tone.
"A lot of people own me favors in very specific places.Financial backing, supply chains, personnel records—I'll find every thread that holds their organization together, and then I'll pull them all at once."
"That could take time," Aventurine pointed out. "They're well-hidden."
"Then it's fortunate that I'm a patient woman." Jade's smile didn't reach her eyes.
"The favor I want," Jade continued, returning to business, "is this: full cooperation with Dr. Vess's treatment protocols. No gambling with your own health. No downplaying symptoms or complications. No deciding you've recovered enough and leaving before proper medical clearance."
She looked directly at Aventurine, and her gaze was knowing. "I'm aware of your tendencies, Aventurine. You'll try to minimize this, try to rush back to active duty, convince yourself and everyone else that you're fine when you're not. The favor is that you actually let yourself be helped. Completely. Thoroughly. Until Dr. Vess confirms you're fully recovered."
Aventurine opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Because she was right. Because his first instinct upon leaving this call would be to calculate how quickly he could get treatment and return to normal operations.
"And Doctor Ratio—" Jade turned her attention to him, "—you'll ensure he complies. That's your part of this bargain. Keep him alive, keep him recovering. Can you do that?"
Ratio glanced at Aventurine briefly before returning his gaze to Jade. "That was already my intention. But I appreciate having official authorization to be... insistent."
"Consider it insurance then." Jade's slight smile suggested satisfaction. "I'll have a car to the facility within hours. Dr. Vess will be expecting you—I'll send her preliminary medical data so she can prepare appropriate treatment protocols."
She paused, then added with unusual directness, "Whatever she recommends, you follow. Whatever recovery time you need, you take. This isn't optional, Aventurine. Understand?"
"Understood," Aventurine said quietly. Then, because it felt necessary: "Thank you, Jade."
"Don't thank me. Pay me back by recovering fully. You worth more when you're well and functional."
She added "And by providing extremely detailed intelligence on everyone involved in this organization. I want names, faces, communication records, financial trails—everything you observed or gathered."
"We'll compile a comprehensive report," Ratio confirmed.
"Good. I'll be in touch with updates on my investigation." Jade picked up her glasses, signaling the meeting's end. "Doctor Ratio—I expect daily reports on Aventurine's medical progress. Send them through encrypted channels to my personal address."
Ratio nodded. "Understood."
"Aventurine, I expect you back in working order soon."
The screen went dark before Aventurine could formulate a response.
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The room felt strangely quiet after Jade's intense presence, the air still carrying the ghost of tension from the negotiation.
"She's going to make them regret existing," Aventurine said finally, something like satisfaction settling in his chest.
"It seems like she cares about you," Ratio observed, moving to lean against the desk. "In her way. Possessive, calculating, transactional—but genuine underneath."
"She sees people as assets, investments. She made me into Aventurine of the Stonehearts. She's not going to let someone destroy her work."
His lips quirked into a slight smile. "Besides, she basically just hired you as my keeper. How do you feel about that?"
"I was already doing that job." Ratio's expression held dry amusement. "Now I have authorization to be insufferable about it. And her resources to ensure proper medical care."
His tone shifted to something more serious. "Though her investigation into Silas's organization... that could get messy. If they realize they're being systematically dismantled, they may escalate. Try to secure you before Jade can complete her work."
"Then it's fortunate we'll be in her private facility." Aventurine stood, smoothing his jacket automatically. "Jade doesn't do anything halfway. If she's offering her personal medical resources, the security will be... extensive."
He moved toward the window, looking out at the safe house's carefully manicured grounds. The scent of his unmasked pheromone drifted with him—soap and sun-dried cotton, lily-of-the-valley and soft rose.
"You know what bothers me most?" Aventurine said quietly, not turning around. "Not the injection, not even what Silas did. I think they collected my pheromone profile. That information is in their database somewhere, filed away for future use."
He heard Ratio move closer, smelled the paper and woody scent of him mixing with the room's stale air conditioning.
Aventurine's hand pressed against the window glass, feeling its coolness against his palm. "They know exactly how to recognize me, by using my real pheromone profile against me."
"Then we ensure they never get close enough to use that information." Ratio's voice was firm. "Jade's investigation will dismantle their organization. Dr. Vess will repair your implant functionality. Within a few weeks, this will be nothing more than intelligence to work around."
Aventurine wanted to believe that. Wanted to trust in Jade's ruthless efficiency and Ratio's logical certainty. But he'd learned long ago that hope was a luxury he couldn't afford, that counting on favorable outcomes was a gambler's fallacy.
Still. He had Jade's resources now, Ratio's protection, and a clear path forward. More than he'd had in the immediate aftermath of Silas's assault.
"We should prepare to move," Aventurine said, turning from the window. His gambler's smile was back in place, armor reconstructed.
Ratio nodded, moved toward his equipment, beginning to pack up the medical monitoring devices he had been using. "Though I want to run one more vitals check before we leave. Ensure the paralytic compound is fully metabolized."
"Always the physician," Aventurine said, but there was affection in the tone. He submitted to the check without protest, letting Ratio's steady hands ground him in the present moment.
The scanner hummed against his skin, collecting data that would be analyzed and cross-referenced and filed away in Ratio's meticulous records. His heartbeat, his blood oxygen, his hormone levels—all reduced to numbers and patterns that the doctor would interpret with perfect accuracy.
"Paralytic compound is clear," Ratio confirmed after a moment. "But the other injection site shows elevated inflammatory. Not dangerous, but Dr. Vess will want to see that data."
His eyes met Aventurine's and something complicated passed between them. "Whatever happens at this facility," Ratio said quietly, "whatever treatment Dr. Vess recommends—I'll be there. Jade gave me official standing as your... keeper." The word held faint distaste, but his expression was serious. "That means you don't face this alone."
Aventurine felt something warm and uncomfortable settle in his chest. "Together," he said, testing the weight of the word again. He's still getting used to that concept.
Ratio smiled slightly. "When we meet Dr. Vess and begin actual treatment, I want no more deflecting, no more minimizing, no more—"
"Gambling with my own wellbeing?" Aventurine finished. "Yes, yes. Jade was quite clear about that being the price of her help."
"She was right to demand it." Ratio finished packing his equipment. "You're exceptionally skilled at many things, Aventurine. But self-preservation isn't one of them."
"I've survived this long."
"Survival and living are different things." Ratio turned to face him fully. "One is about making it to tomorrow. The other is about making tomorrow worth reaching."
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Something cracked open in Aventurine's chest, painful and raw. Because Ratio was right, wasn't he? Surviving was what Aventurine did. It was what he'd always done.
On Sigonia-IV, survival meant hiding while his world burned. Meant breathing shallow in the dark while screams echoed and the smell of smoke and blood filled the air.
As a slave, survival became something uglier. It meant learning to smile when hands examined him like merchandise. Meant understanding which buyers wanted fear and which wanted false enthusiasm.
Meant perfecting the art of going somewhere else in his mind while his body did what was necessary to avoid punishment, to earn favor, to stay valuable enough that killing him would be wasteful.
Survival meant spreading his legs when ordered and saying "Yes, Master" with a voice that didn't shake. Meant learning exactly how to touch, how to moan, how to make them feel powerful and desired while he calculated odds and planned escapes he never quite managed to execute. Meant becoming whatever they wanted him to be—pliant or playful, innocent or wanton, whatever kept their hands gentle instead of brutal.
Meant swallowing bile and pride in equal measure, smiling through violation, making them believe he wanted it, because pleasure was easier to survive than rage.
Survival had always mean transforming himself into something too valuable to discard.
But living?
Living suggested you deserved more than just making it through another day intact.
Aventurine's throat felt tight. What would living be like, for him?
"We should go downstairs," he said instead of responding. "Meet the car when it arrives. The sooner we get to the facility, the sooner we can—"
A soft chime from his phone interrupted him. An incoming message from Jade—text only, characteristically efficient:
"Car will arrive in three hours. Pack what you need for extended stay. Minimum two weeks. —J"
Three hours. Time to actually prepare instead of rushing out the door with nothing but emergency supplies.
Time to figure out what to do about the cats.
"Three hours," Aventurine said aloud, mostly to himself. "That's considerate of her," Ratio observed, already moving toward his packed medical equipment. "I'll return to my quarters and gather proper supplies. Meet you back here in two hours?"
"Actually— Could you come to my apartment instead? I need to... there are some things I need to arrange, and it might be easier to coordinate from there."
Ratio's expression shifted to something curious, but he nodded. "Send me the address. I'll be there in two hours."
After Ratio left, Aventurine stood alone in the safe house's sterile efficiency and felt the weight of what he was about to do settle over him. Going to his actual apartment, his private space.
But mostly, he needed to figure out what to do about Jack, King, and Queen.
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Aventurine's apartment was in one of Penacony's upscale districts—not the most expensive, which would have drawn attention, but comfortable and secure. He'd chosen it specifically for the balcony and the natural light, though he'd never quite examined why those things mattered to him.
The door recognized his biometrics and slid open silently. Immediately, he was greeted by a chorus of meows—demanding, insistent, radiating feline outrage at his prolonged absence.
"I know, I know," Aventurine murmured, crouching down as three cats swarmed him. "I'm terrible. The worst owner in the history of cat cakes ownership."
Jack reached him first, headbutted Aventurine's knee. King followed, winding between his legs with theatrical desperation, while Queen sat back and judged him with golden eyes before deigning to accept attention.
Aventurine gathered Jack into his arms, feeling the cat's rumbling purr vibrate through his chest. The automatic feeder had kept them fed, the water system had kept them hydrated, but cats didn't understand logistics. They only understood that their human had disappeared without explanation.
"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face briefly in Jack's soft fur. The cat smelled like sun-warmed contentment. "I didn't mean to be gone so long." King meowed loudly, demanding his turn. Aventurine set Jack down and scooped him up instead, who immediately began kneading his shoulder with needle-sharp claws. Queen finally rose and walked over with regal disdain, allowing herself to be petted while making it clear this was a privilege Aventurine should appreciate.
They'd been gifts, though Aventurine had never quite gotten the full story. Ratio had shown up at his door eight months ago with three carriers and an expression that suggested he expected to be told to leave immediately. Instead, he'd said something about "environmental enrichment" and "proven therapeutic benefits of animal companionship" and left before Aventurine could fully process what was happening.
The cats had stayed. And Aventurine, who'd never had anything that depended on him that he couldn't afford to lose, found himself coming home more often. Found himself looking forward to the demanding meows and the warm bodies curled against him while he worked.
Found himself with something Ratio had quietly given him, hoping—Aventurine suspected—that he'd have reasons to come home instead of throwing himself into mission after mission without pause.
But now he needed to leave them again, and for longer than a few days this time.
Aventurine pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts until he found the right one. His fingers hovered over the call button for a moment before he pressed it.
The line connected after two rings. "Aventurine?" Topaz's voice carried surprise and pleasure. "This is unexpected. Are you calling to admit I was right all along?"
"Not really." Aventurine smiled. "I kinda need a favor."
"Oh?" Interest sharpened her tone. "The great Aventurine needs a favor from little old me? Hold up, I need to record this."
"Don't you dare." He shifted his grip on King, who was now purring so loudly Topaz could probably hear it through the line. "I need someone to take care of my cats for a while. Two weeks, possibly longer. You're the only person I trust with them."
There was a brief pause. "You're going somewhere for more than two weeks? Aventurine, what's—" Her voice shifted to concern. "What kind of mission are you taking this time? Are you okay?"
"Medical situation," he said, keeping it vague. "Nothing life-threatening, but I'll be in a private facility for treatment. Can't exactly bring three cats to a medical center."
"Of course I'll take them." No hesitation, which was pure Topaz. "I love your cats, and so does Numby y'know. So, when do you need me there?"
Aventurine glanced at the time. "An hour? I need to pack, and I want to make sure they're settled before I leave."
"I'll be there in forty-five minutes." A pause. "Aventurine? Whatever this medical situation is... you're getting proper treatment, right?"
"I have a very insistent Doctor ensuring I follow protocols," he said dryly.
"Okay." Topaz's relief was evident. "Then I'll see you soon."
After disconnecting, he moved to his bedroom to pack, Jack following with determined persistence. The cat leaped onto the bed and settled directly on top of the shirt Aventurine had just laid out, making his opinion of this packing business very clear.
"You're not helping," Aventurine informed him.
Jack purred louder, kneading the expensive fabric with complete disregard for its value. Aventurine worked around him, selecting clothes with care. Comfortable items, loose-fitting shirts and some linen pants; but also his usual dress up just in case he needs them. Most of the time, he'd rather be overdressed than underdressed. Jewelry, toiletries, his ergonomic pillow that actually helped him to sleep. By the time his suitcase was mostly packed, all three cats had arranged themselves on or around his bed in various states of feline disapproval. Jack sprawled across the pillows. King claimed the suitcase itself. Queen sat at the foot like a particularly judgmental sentinel.
Aventurine was not sure how long it took for them to travel to Jade's facility, so he decided to take a quick shower and change into something more suitable for travelling. He was stepping out of the shower when King appeared with something in his mouth: his favourite fish-shaped stuffed toy, dropped to his feet like an offer.
The cat cake was bribing him to stay.
"I'm not leaving forever," Aventurine said softly, crouching down to retrieve the toy and scratch behind King's ears. "Just for a little while. Topaz will take good care of you."
King meowed, unconvinced.
Queen appeared in the doorway, sat down, and began washing her paw with elaborate indifference to the proceedings. But Aventurine noticed she'd positioned herself where she could watch him, golden eyes tracking his movements.
Aventurine moved to his closet, considering his options. His fingers skimmed past the designer suits, the tailored trousers that usually made up his armor. Instead, he pulled out a pair of comfortable black pants—soft, well-worn, the kind he'd never wear in public. They hung low on his hips, casual in a way that Aventurine rarely allowed himself to be.
He paused, looking at the fresh shirt laid out on his bed, then at the white cotton shirt folded next to it. Ratio's shirt. He should change, should put on something that was his, reclaiming his usual presentation.
But instead, Aventurine found himself pulling the soft cotton closer, the fabric warm against his skin. Just for a little longer, he told himself.
The door chime interrupted his thoughts. Aventurine checked the security feed—Ratio, arriving exactly on time with a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Come in, wait for me in the living room, I'll be right there." Aventurine said through the intercom, triggering the door release.
He rushed his fingers through his damp hair, trying to tame the wild strands. Water still clung to the golden locks, darkening them slightly, making them curl at the ends.
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Ratio entered Aventurine's quarters with practiced efficiency, his medical bag secured over one shoulder, a suitcase on his other side.
The space was exactly what he'd expected—expensive, carefully curated, every piece of furniture and decoration chosen to project a specific image. Except for the cat toys littered around the corner, the well-used cat tree, and the autofeeders.
He set his bag down carefully, noting the security measures, the strategic sight lines, the way even Aventurine's personal space was designed like a gilded fort. The scent of soap and white flowers hung in the air, fainter than usual but unmistakably present. It smells like unwillingness and longing.
Ratio was deep in his observation when he heard movement from the bedroom doorway. He turned.
And his carefully maintained composure stuttered.
Aventurine stood in the threshold, backlit by the soft lighting of his bedroom. He was still wearing Ratio's shirt with a towel draped around his shoulders. He reached up, trying to dry his hair, making the shirt ride up slightly. Below, comfortable black pants rode low on his hips, exposing the elegant jut of hipbones, the subtle definition of a lithe abdomen. The shadow of a V-line disappeared beneath the low-slung waistband, drawing the eye downward in a way that was utterly distracting.
It was so casual in a way Ratio had never seen him dress, no tailored vest, no designer clothes. Just Aventurine's natural frame, lean and deceptively delicate.
Damp golden strands curled slightly at the ends, water still clinging to them, catching the light. Without his usual careful styling, the locks fell naturally around his face, softer. A drop of water traced down from his temple, following the elegant line of his jaw before disappearing beneath the collar of the borrowed shirt.
Ratio's pheromone spiked before he could suppress it, fresh ink scrawling, sandalwood flooding the space with an intensity he rarely allowed. His hands tightened on the strap of his bag, as he forced himself to maintain eye contact, to not let his gaze drop to where the oversized shirt revealed the gentle curve of Aventurine's collarbone, the pale expanse of his throat.
This was inappropriate. Aventurine was injured, compromised, vulnerable. He needed medical care and protection, not- not some horny, dick-for-brain Alpha.
"Doctor," Aventurine said, his voice soft, uncertain in a way that made Ratio's protective instincts war with something far less professional. "I'll just be a moment. I need to grab a few things."
Ratio cleared his throat, willing his pheromone back under control with limited success. "Take your time," he managed, his voice rougher than intended. "We're not in a rush."
As Aventurine turned back toward the bedroom, Ratio forced himself to look away, focusing instead on the cat cakes, who were now watching him with their very signature judging feline eyes.
"I know," he muttered to Queen, who'd fixed him with an particularly unimpressed golden stare. "Completely inappropriate. I'm aware."
Queen flicked her tail once, as if to say that awareness didn't excuse anything, then deliberately turned her back on him.
The scent of soap and flowers drifted from the bedroom, mixing with his own traitorous pheromone, like flower pressed on unsent loveletters.
Professional boundaries, he reminded himself firmly. Aventurine trusts you. Don't abuse that trust.
Ratio returned to the task of analyzing the living room, trying to keep his thoughts from straying into dangerous territory. The cats clearly comfortable and well-cared for, plush beds positioned to catch the best sunlight, toys that showed signs of regular use rather than mere decoration. The apartment itself held an unexpected warmth beneath its expensive veneer, a lived-in space despite its careful curation.
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When Aventurine returned, pushing a suitcase, Ratio gestured toward the cats. "They've gotten bigger," he said, his voice carrying something he couldn't quite name. Fondness, perhaps. Or recognition of something precious being protected. "Jack especially."
"Oh, he's got strong opinions about his food," Aventurine said with a soft laugh. "Mainly that there should be more of it. Always."
The doctor crouched down, running practiced hands over the cat's sleek body.
"They're healthy," Ratio observed. "Well-socialized. Content." His golden eyes lifted to meet Aventurine's. "You've taken good care of them."
"You're the one who showed up with three furballs," he pointed out, lips quirking. "What was I supposed to do, let them starve? I'm not a monster, Doctor."
"I gave them to you hoping they'd give you reasons to come home between missions." Ratio's voice was quiet.
The casual deflection Aventurine had been preparing died on his tongue. He stared down at King, suddenly unable to meet those golden eyes, his throat tight with something that felt dangerously close to gratitude.
Jack chose that moment to launch himself off the bed and onto Ratio's shoulder, nearly knocking the doctor over with enthusiastic affection. Ratio caught himself, adjusting to the sudden weight of sixteen pounds of cat with admirable grace.
"Hello, Jack," he laughed a little, scratching under the cat's chin "Yes, I've missed you too. Your timing is impeccable as always."
Aventurine couldn't help smiling at the picture they made. The notorious Doctor Ratio, with his renowned intellect and his legendary temper, being conquered by a cat cake. Aventurine tried to imagine telling Ratio's students, those poor souls who trembled at his lectures, that their professor was being tender with his cat cakes, petting them and cooing at them.
They'd probably accuse him of slander.
"They missed you," Aventurine said. "You should visit more often."
"Perhaps I will." Ratio managed to extract himself from Jack's grip. "After this situation is resolved. When you're back home and need someone to check on them."
The implication floated between them like a single white feather. Ratio would visit. He'd have a reason to be in Aventurine's private space, their partnership extended beyond missions and medical emergencies into something more personal.
"Topaz will be here soon," Aventurine said, distracting himself. . "She's taking them for the duration. She has Numby, so she's experienced with pet care. They'll be fine."
"Topaz is responsible. Though I suspect these three will terrorize her anyway."
"Undoubtedly. But she's prepared for it. Hopefully."
Ratio sat down on his couch, careful not to disturb the cats, close enough that Aventurine could smell the paper and sandalwood of him mixing with the domestic scents of the apartment. For a moment, they just existed in the space together—no mission urgency, no medical crisis, just two people and three cats in afternoon sunlight.
Aventurine watched Ratio's profile as the doctor reached out to scratch Jack's exposed belly, saw the softness in his expression that rarely surfaced. Saw him here, in Aventurine's private space, surrounded by the cats he'd given as gifts, looking... content. Peaceful. Like this domesticity suited him in ways his academic achievements and professional reputation never quite captured.
And something in Aventurine's chest tightened dangerously, flooding him with images he shouldn't be entertaining.
───────────────
Ratio in this space regularly. Not as a visitor. Coming home to Aventurine and these demanding cats, his calming pheromone reseved only for him, mixing with the scent of sun-dried cotton until they were indistinguishable.
Ratio reading on the couch while Aventurine worked at his desk in their shared office, both of them within eachother's reach. Ratio's careful hands preparing tea while Aventurine fed the cats, mundane rituals building something neither of them had words for yet.
Ratio in his bed, morning light catching gold eyes and sleep-mussed hair, looking at Aventurine like he was worth staying for.
Ratio's hands on him, not assessing but exploring. Learning the geography of Aventurine's body with the same meticulous attention he applied to everything. Those clever fingers mapping sensitive places. Tracing along his chest, the dip of his spine, the soft skin of his inner thighs. Drawing out responses Aventurine usually kept locked down. Breaths that came faster, small sounds he'd never allow himself to make in the waking world.
Ratio pressing him into these sheets, the solid weight of him grounding and overwhelming at once. Surrounding him with that steady presence, broad shoulders blocking out the world, making it so that nothing existed except this moment, this bed, this man.
Strong hands would pin his wrists gently above his head, not restraining but anchoring, giving Aventurine something to push against, something solid to hold onto while everything else dissolved.
Ratio's mouth traveling down his throat, pausing to bite gently at his pulse point before soothing it with his tongue. Working lower, paying devoted attention to his chest. And lower, kisses pressed to his trembling stomach, to his hipbones, while crimson-golden eyes looked up at him with a dark promise.
Aventurine swallowed hard, forcing his attention back to Queen's soft fur, to the immediate present instead of impossible futures. His pheromone was shifting without his implant's control, soapy scent of warm linen sheets tousled after a long restless night. He needed to stop. Needed to lock down these fantasies before they showed too clearly in his scent and his flushed complexion. He needed to stop wanting things, because that had never worked out well for him.
The charged moment stretched between them, Aventurine acutely aware of Ratio's stillness, the way his breathing had changed slightly.
Ratio suppressed his pheromone before it could response to Aventurine's. He could feel the sandalwood burning, ink almost taking on a heated quality like words written in passion.
The Alpha in him only registered: Omega. Here. Wanting. But this was wrong. Aventurine was compromised, his implant malfunctioning, his body still processing an assault compound. Ratio's hands clenched into fists at his sides, every muscle rigid with the effort of staying perfectly still.
Queen chose that exact moment to launch herself onto Aventurine's lap with zero grace, her substantial weight forcing the air from his lungs in an undignified "oof."
Ratio exhaled slowly, his rigid posture easing fraction by fraction as the immediate crisis passed.
"Traitor," Aventurine muttered, but he was grateful for the interruption, for the excuse to focus on the cat instead of the way Ratio was carefully not looking at him.
Ratio took the opportunity to stand, putting necessary distance between them. He needed space to wrestle some control back. Aventurine trusted him, and that trust was not something to be violated just because his biology was making terrible suggestions.
"We should leave soon," Ratio said, his voice strained. "The sooner we get you treatment, the better."
Better, for both of them.
Because if they stayed much longer in this small space, with Aventurine's scent doing things to his control, with the memory of how he'd looked fresh from the shower still vivid in Ratio's mind-
"I'll wait by the door," Ratio said, grabbing his bag and suitcase with perhaps more force than necessary. "Take your time saying goodbye to the cats."
He didn't wait for a response, didn't trust himself to look back at Aventurine sitting there in his borrowed shirt, surrounded by the creatures Ratio had given him, in the home he'd built for himself despite everything.
Behind him, Aventurine's hands stilled in Queen's fur.The sudden retreat stung more than it should have. Of course Ratio would leave.
Why would he stay? Why would anyone stay when confronted with the damaged, needy Aventurine, unable to even control his own pheromone. He'd made Ratio uncomfortable. Disgusted him, probably. The doctor had looked so rigid, so tense, like he was fighting the urge to flee entirely.
Aventurine buried his face in Queen's soft fur, grateful she couldn't see his expression.
This is why the implant exists, he reminded himself bitterly. Without it, he's just- this. Pathetic.
"Come on, girl," he murmured to Queen, gently lifting her off his lap. "Time to go."
In the entryway, Ratio pressed his forehead against the cool wall and fought for the composure he had almost lost.
Get him to Jade's facility. Get him treated. Restore his implant function.
His pheromone slowly settled, diminished. Control reasserted, crisis managed, professional boundaries maintained.
Even if it felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done.
───────────────
The familiar chime of the building's security system informed him about Topaz's arrival. The apartment was ready. Suitcase packed. Kitchen sorted. Cats disgruntled about the changes around them.
Aventurine opened the door to find Topaz holding Numby, her Warp Trotter companion chittering excitedly.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly. "When you said medical situation, I-" Her eyes tracked over the faint shadows under his eyes "Are you really OK? What happened?"
"Nothing I can discuss." He managed a smile, the practiced one that deflected concern. "But I'm getting treatment. Proper treatment, with proper medical supervision."
Her gaze shifted past him to where Ratio was "Doctor Ratio is going with you."
"Doctor Ratio is ensuring compliance with treatment protocols," Ratio confirmed, moving to stand beside Aventurine. "As per agreement with Jade."
Topaz's eyebrows rose. "Jade's involved? This is serious."
"It's handled," Aventurine said firmly. "Which is why I need you to take care of these three." He gestured to the cats, who had all emerged to inspect the newcomer. "Standard routines—you know where everything is. They're used to you, so they shouldn't give you too much trouble."
"They'll be perfect angels," Topaz said, clearly lying as Jack immediately tried to climb her leg."Okay, maybe not angels. But we'll manage. Numby loves them."
Numby chittered agreement, hopping down to sniff King with obvious interest. The black cat regarded the Warp Trotter with aristocratic disdain before deigning to allow the investigation.
"Their food is in the kitchen," Aventurine said, moving into logistics because that was easier than acknowledging how hard this goodbye felt. "Jack gets exactly one and a half cups twice daily, no matter how much he begs. King is one cup twice daily. Queen is three-quarters cup three times daily—she's particular about timing."
"I remember," Topaz assured him. "I've cat-sat for you before."
"Not for two weeks." Aventurine crouched down, and all three cats immediately swarmed him as if sensing this was different from his usual departures.
"I'll be back," he told them, knowing they couldn't understand but needing to say it anyway. "I promise. Topaz will take good care of you, and then I'll come home."
He buried his face briefly in Jack's soft fur, breathed in the familiar scent of home and safety. Then he stood, gently disentangling himself from feline attachment, and handed Topaz the spare keycard.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For this, and also for not asking any questions."
Topaz tucked the keycard away securely. "When you're back, you're buying me dinner at Penacony's fanciest restaurant. Deal?"
"Deal."
Topaz gathered up the cats' travel carriers from where Aventurine had set them by the door, somehow managing to wrangle all three cats and Numby with practiced efficiency. "I'll text you updates," she promised. "Pictures of them. Some videos."
"Please do." Aventurine watched her secure Jack in his carrier, the cat cake protested loudly. "Thank you, really."
"Anytime." She smiled, warm and genuine. "Now go get treated. The cats and I will be here when you get back."
After she left, the apartment felt suddenly empty. The absence of demanding meows and purring warmth created a silence that pressed against Aventurine's chest. He stepped towards the apartment's door, suitcase in hand, grabbed one of his coat, then paused to look around the apartment one more time.
By the time he walked toward the entryway where Ratio waited, he'd reconstructed enough of his mask to hide the hurt.
Professional boundaries. Medical necessity. He could do this.
Even if something in his chest felt bruised and tender.