Work Text:
When Veritas returns home, it's already quite late at night, so the darkness of his apartment is completely expected. From the doorway, he has a clear visual of the kitchen island and the breakfast nook, backed by a row of floor-to-ceiling windows. The only light in the room comes from the city beyond the window, illuminating just the edges of the furniture in an eerie silver glow.
After a long evening writing lesson plans and attempting to make it through his inconceivably large backlog of work, Veritas is starving, and had assumed that Aventurine would be as well, considering that he'd only been awake long enough to enjoy the perks of sharing a bed with his partner before he'd gone back to sleep. With this in mind, Veritas had made a trip to the grocery store on his way home with plans to actually use his kitchen for its intended purpose for the first time since he'd moved in.
His three-bedroom apartment isn't meant for a single man and his legion of alabaster sculptures, after all. It's meant for a family. And that usually entails using the kitchen to prepare family meals, for more than one person.
It's been weeks since he's last spent any amount of time here, only showing up to retrieve clothes, pick things up from his home office, or occasionally shower after spending a morning at the gym; at some point, he'd decided to get rid of anything perishable, leaving the food supply practically nonexistent, except for some non-perishables, frozen goods, and condiments. With an armload of bags to fill the fridge and cupboards, he steps into the kitchen, using the meagre amount of light to guide himself to the edge of the counter so he can set the whole load down, and then goes fumbling through the dark to switch on the range hood light so he can see better.
What he ends up revealing nearly has him jumping out of his skin.
The light rouses Aventurine where he sits on the floor, back against one of the counters as he faces the sink with his arms hugging his knees to his chest. His face is swollen and his eyes are bloodshot, cheeks and nose flushed bright red. He's obviously been crying but it's not entirely apparent why at first glance, and Veritas doesn't spare a second glance while he deals with the momentary rush of adrenaline and the way his heart is now hammering wildly in his chest.
"Aventurine, you nearly scared me to death," Veritas scolds, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. "I cannot possibly fathom what you could possibly be up to, sitting on the floor in the dark, but please, for the love of your Amber Lord, think about me next time you decide to do this."
Aventurine looks up at him, blinks, opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His eyes fall instead, tracing the grout between the tiles on the floor. He looks incredibly small like this—pitiable, like a destitute child.
Veritas suddenly finds himself regretting his tone, and stoops down to Aventurine's level with a heavy sigh. He reaches out, petting his husband's hair in attempt to spend comfort because it's clear that something is wrong—he should have been more sensitive to Aventurine's plight to begin with, even while his own heart is still taking its time returning to its regular resting rate. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Are you alright? You didn't have another nightmare, did you?"
Aventurine shakes his head. He has to swallow hard before he can speak. "I got my ring off," he croaks.
"That's good," Veritas replies. "It saves the jeweller having to cut it from your hand."
His husband nods slowly, and then his gaze falls again. "Yeah, but, uh. I used glass cleaner? It's supposed to break the surface tension between the ring and the skin because something something surfactants; I don't really remember what all I read, just that it's better than using lotion or oil."
This has Veritas raising his eyebrows, actually proud of his husband for learning this, even if his understanding is rudimentary at best. Despite how miserable Aventurine looks, Veritas' heart does a weird little flip and a spark of excitement lights up in his chest. He draws breath, ready to happily explain everything he knows on the subject, but Aventurine cuts him off.
"I lost it."
At the same time, they both look at the sink—Aventurine because he obviously knows where the ring is, and Veritas because he can easily put two and two together. "Down the drain?" he asks, just to give Aventurine a chance to clarify the situation, and Aventurine hesitates to respond. It's all the answer he needs. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out, perhaps a little too quickly, because when he reaches out to rub Aventurine's shoulder in reassurance, his husband flinches under his touch.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers, "It just slipped out of my hand. It was an accident, I didn't think— I'm such an idiot, I should have known better."
It's hard not to feel some kind of way about this train of thought. Veritas finds himself slightly horrified by it. Of course it was an accident, but Aventurine's reaction makes it seem like he thinks Veritas is angry at him, or rather, that he expects Veritas to be angry at him. He's not—why would he be?—and his first instinct is to scoff, roll his eyes, shake his head at the absurdity of the thought process. The words on the tip of his tongue are, 'Yes, you are an idiot.' which he knows will not lead to a productive conversation, and in fact will most probably only escalate Aventurine's distress, so he has to keep himself in check.
Instead he says, "Darling, it's incredibly common to lose a ring in general, let alone down the drain—so much so that I would consider it a normal experience. Even I have lost my class ring down this very same drain in the past. Have you never lost any of your other rings before?"
"Sure I have, but none of them are this ring," Aventurine returns, sounding more miserable than ever. "I should have been more careful. After everything you went through having it made for me, shouldn't you be more upset about this than I am?"
Veritas hums thoughtfully, "Perhaps. But what's happened has happened. It's not as if this problem is completely unsolvable, either. Rather than sitting on the floor, needlessly catastrophizing the situation, feeling sorry for yourself and projecting your feelings of self-loathing onto me, why don't you come up with a solution instead?"
"I don't know what to do," Aventurine insists with a watery tone to his voice—on the verge of tears, and so ready to resign himself to failure.
Though it breaks his heart to see Aventurine like this, this time, Veritas actually does shake his head and roll his eyes. "Yes you do. All this time spent inside must be dulling your mind. Aventurine, remember yourself and think. You are, and always have been, an exceptional problem-solver."
With this said, he stands, offering his hand to pull Aventurine to his feet as well. Aventurine comes along willingly, which is a start, considering that he's now dabbing tears out of his eyes on his sleeve. "Take some time to ruminate on it while I get the groceries put away and start dinner. You must be starving," he says.
"I didn't know you could cook," Aventurine returns, sniffling pathetically, although despite this, he does seem to have calmed down some. He's still a little despondent, and Veritas can't help but notice that the light in his eyes has disappeared again.
Rather than comment on it, he instead says,"I am quite adept at many things beyond my academic endeavours," while he carefully places a carton of eggs and an armload of vegetables into the fridge. "Honestly, I'm astounded that something like this would come as a surprise to you."
Aventurine shrugs. "To be fair, it's not like I got to see you in a domestic setting much until you started staying at my place all the time; and even then, I was the one doing all the cooking," he counters. "What are you planning on making, then?"
"I haven't decided yet. Do you have a preference?"
"Not really. Maybe some kind of comfort food," Aventurine suggests, "Something from your home planet?"
Veritas nods at this, slowly, tilting his head as he puts some thought to it. It's not difficult for him to come up with a traditional dish from his home planet that is also widely considered a comfort food. "Would you be opposed to a lemon and egg-based meatball soup?" he inquires, though he's already separating out the ingredients needed. "It's called giouvarlakia. My mother used to make it quite often when I was younger, before I left home for university. The flavour is exquisite—unlike any cuisine I've tasted on any other planets—though I must admit, I've never been quite able to replicate my mother's version. She refuses to tell me her secrets in hopes that I'll be forced into returning home from time to time."
"Sounds delightful," Aventurine says, leaning over the counter to examine the stack of ingredients left out, from the obvious eggs, lemon, and ground meat, to the onion, rice, and fresh mint. "The soup, but also your mom."
"She is," Veritas confirms.
Aventurine heaves out a sigh, standing upright again and stretching his arms out over his head. "I think I'm gonna go get cleaned up and see if you have anything that might fit me better. The shower is the best place to think, anyway."
"Highly disagree—baths are far superior," is Veritas' quick retort, and blessedly, Aventurine laughs. As he turns to leave the kitchen, however, Veritas reaches out to stop him with a hand on his waist. "Just a moment. Are you feeling any better now?"
"Mhm, a little. I think I'll be back to normal once I'm clean," he says, and Veritas nods at this. "I just need to scrub all the depression away, figuratively speaking."
"That's a metaphor, but I'm pleased to hear it." Veritas pulls him in to kiss his forehead, but ends up surprised when Aventurine latches onto him, arms slipping around his neck to hold himself close. "What's this about all of a sudden?" he asks, not hesitating to hold Aventurine back.
"Nothing. Just, thanks for putting up with me," Aventurine murmurs against the side of his neck, "I know I'm not trying as hard as I should. You're right; I've been slacking off and I need to do better."
Veritas turns his head, buries his nose into Aventurine's hair. The scent of his shampoo has faded, but even the mere whiff of it is enough to have him sighing pleasantly. "You're making progress, even if it's the bare minimum each day. You should be proud of yourself for just that much. It's more than some could manage."
"It's because I have you," is Aventurine's quiet confession. "I wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for you. Even if I had survived, the IPC would've taken care of that for me. I quite literally would not be where I am right now without you, and I can't say I'd even want to try if it weren't for you keeping me grounded and encouraging me all the time. I'm really grateful to have you in my life."
Aventurine raises himself up on his toes to kiss Veritas' cheek, and then just as quickly disappears, leaving Veritas with his own thoughts. On the surface, what Aventurine said just now feels incredibly gratifying. There's a sort of catharsis in knowing that his effort is paying off in some way, that Aventurine appreciates what he's doing to try and help—even if he's still learning himself and, admittedly, does not always hit the mark.
Were he any less astute, he'd leave it there, allowing himself to revel in the stroking of his own ego. Unfortunately, something about the whole interaction feels off to him. It feels like reading Aventurine's suicide note all over again, but perhaps... that might just be him overthinking things. Still, he decides, it wouldn't hurt to give Aventurine a little extra attention, just to be sure.
This is only cemented in his mind when, a half hour later, Aventurine emerges from the hall dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—both just a little too big on his slight frame—with his hair pulled back into an unruly little ponytail, bare-faced, and so beautiful that Veritas feels his heart ache just at the sight of him.
It's mind-boggling to him, the phenomenon that is Aventurine's existence. All the circumstances, all the connections, all the collective experience and thought and destiny, of man and Aeon alike. All of them had to come together in the cosmos, working in some grand design for thousands of Amber Eras, just for someone as remarkably perfect as Aventurine to not only be created, but to be gifted to Veritas as if he could ever possibly deserve him.
Existence in itself is a rare and beautiful treasure, but in his—very scientific, completely unbiased—opinion, Aventurine is the rarest and most beautiful of them all. He finds himself thinking, he would abandon Nous the Erudition to walk the path of Preservation in a heartbeat if he had to, just to keep him safe.
Regrettably, his hands are currently covered in raw meat and egg, so he can't take Aventurine's pretty face in his hands and kiss him until they both do something stupid.
Aventurine comes up behind him, snakes his arms around Veritas' waist, pressing his cheek to the back of his shoulder. He's silent for a long while as Veritas rolls meatballs to place on a sheet tray.
Then, "How did you get your class ring out of the drain?"
Veritas finds himself smiling at this. "I borrowed a pipe wrench out of the maintenance closet and disassembled the P-trap."
Aventurine hums, then presses a long, slow kiss to the back of his neck. "Veritas Ratio with a pipe wrench, doing manual labour? Sounds incredibly sexy. There might be something in it for you if you'd consider getting my ring out of the drain for me."
"Oh?" Veritas says, playing along as if the silky lilt of his husband's voice doesn't flick a very particular switch inside him. "And what could possibly be in it for me?"
"You know what they say, right? Happy wife, happy life," Aventurine purrs out, punctuating this with another kiss. "I'll make it worth your while."
There's a very deliberately placed hand, resting just below his belt, fingers playfully stroking back and forth, dangerously close to his pelvis. The other winds its way around his bicep, feeling every movement of his muscles while he continues to shape his meatballs, trying so hard to seem unaffected. Aventurine is too good at this particular game, though. The kisses on his neck turn open-mouthed, and finally, Veritas shudders.
This is the Aventurine he knows.
"How about this, we'll flip a coin for your reward. Heads, or tails. To be honest, though, I'm kinda hoping for tails," he adds, taking Veritas' silence as uncertainty, or perhaps dismissal.
"You're insatiable," Veritas sighs, feigning annoyance. "I'll get your ring out of the drain—you don't need to bribe me. Just let me finish what I'm doing here."
Almost instantly, Aventurine untangles himself from around Veritas' body, coming to stand at his side instead. The way he leans against Veritas' shoulder hinders the movement of his arm, but when he glances over, his husband's cheek is squished in a way that he thinks is very... cute, and his eyes are trained with marked fervency on what Veritas is doing with his hands.
He's studying.
"Do you need help?" Aventurine asks after Veritas has rolled and placed two more meatballs.
Veritas answers bluntly, "No."
Anyone else might have been put off by this, but Aventurine smiles fondly instead. "Can I help, anyway?"
Veritas sighs, stepping out of the way to make room for Aventurine at his side. He watches his husband watching him, selecting a portion of meat just a little smaller than the size of his palm, and easily figuring out the technique Veritas is using to make perfectly round, well-packed meatballs. If he's being honest with himself, he notices that Aventurine's actually look better than his, and he can't find it in himself to be surprised—he's capable of doing much more technically difficult things with his hands.
There's domesticity in the moment, Veritas thinks. The apartment is quiet and dark, their task only lit by the warm yellow range hood light above them, and the silence only filled by the soft nighttime city sounds of Pier Point below them. After all the turbulence over the last months, this calm feels precious.
It reminds him of home, as well, of invading the kitchen while his mother cooked so he could offer his help just to spend time with her, when he was still small enough that he couldn't reach the top of the counter. He remembers his mother lifting him up on her hip, selecting the perfect amount of meat, and letting him roll it on top of her outstretched hand until it was vaguely rounded, praising him for a job well done even when the meatballs were misshapen or crumbled into a pile as soon as she tried to set them down.
He wonders idly if Aventurine has any fond memories like these of his family.
If he doesn't, that's fine. Veritas knows his parents will fix that... once they find out what he's gone and done, anyway.
They're really, really going to love him, and the thought fills him with a bubbling sort of warmth.
While the meatballs are boiling, Veritas washes his hands in the bathroom, and then sets out to dismantle the P-trap—something easily done in only a few minutes. He finds Aventurine's ring, safe and sound, completely unscathed, and Aventurine cleans it lovingly, notably with the stopper in the drain. Then, unwilling to put it back on his finger until it's resized, he threads it onto a chain to fasten around his neck instead, so he can continue to wear it—a very wise decision.
They finish making dinner together. Veritas shows Aventurine how to make avgolemono properly, so it emulsifies rather than the lemon juice and hot broth curdling the egg, and then they bring two hot bowls of soup to the breakfast table to eat in relative silence. Interestingly enough, Veritas finds himself noticing that the flavour is much better than when he makes it for himself.
After dinner, the dishes are rinsed and placed into the dishwasher, and Veritas thinks it's time to hold Aventurine to his word, so he goes off in search of a coin to flip for his reward. Only, when he returns to the living room, it's to find his husband curled up on the couch, already asleep. It doesn't bother Veritas, having to pick Aventurine up and bring him back to bed again, but he does find it odd that he's sleeping so much. He'd slept all morning, then napped in the afternoon, so he really shouldn't be tired now.
This, he knows, cannot possibly bode well.
* * *
#So Dr. Ratio and Aventurine from Strategic Investments are Actually MARRIED (not clickbait)#
Posted by: ExtraSporks
[Image]
I work in Vital Statistics, and look at what I found on my desk to be processed this morning~
Comments:
User_69:
What does it say? It's so small and blurry I can't read it.
Agree (312), Disagree (35)
Sincerest:
@User_69 First one is a consent form for Aventurine signed by Diamond. Second one says "Pier Point Certificate of Marriage", and the date is pretty recent. Officiated by Diamond, witnessed by two people named Jelena and Caelus. Can't say about the spouses, though. One of them is definitely Aventurine per the consent form, but are we sure the other one says Veritas Ratio? That's actually the worst handwriting I've ever seen.
Agree (665), Disagree (21)
Anarchetype:
@Sincerest He's a dr, what do you expect
Also who else would have literally DIAMOND and topaz at their wedding other than a stoneheart, and iirc the only one ratio is close with is aventurine, so i think it makes sense logically
Agree (515), Disagree (85)
User_69:
Wait, okay, so Aventurine is FS married, but the mystery man MIGHT not even be Ratio??
Agree (376), Disagree (21)
ExtraSporks:
@User_69 Coworkers confirmed that Ratio is the one who dropped it off, which would be a weird thing to do for a friend, imo.
Agree (544), Disagree (67)
Assorted_Fabric:
I'm literally going to kms if this is true.
Agree (89), Disagree (174)
Galactic_Baseballer:
@Assorted_Fabric KMS: Keep Myourself Safe
Agree (918), Disagree (16)
RatiosLeftSandal:
@Assorted_Fabric It most likely is. I have him for engineering and he came into the lecture hall with a MASSIVE hickey on his neck today. He was also in a really good mood? Someone answered a question wrong and all he had to say was, "Reread the material. Learning is a process." It was REALLY weird. Seems like he's definitely at least getting laid if nothing else.
Agree (420), Disagree (69)
Vital_Vibe:
Okay but how do we know this is official and not just some fake AI image made to stir up drama?
Agree (600), Disagree (93)
ExtraSporks:
@Vital_Vibe I'll DM you a pic of my ID with the license as proof.
Agree (414), Disagree (51)
Vital_Vibe:
Alr it's real this time, Imma just shut up from now on lol.
Agree (736), Disagree (10)
Rocket_Bird:
Where's that racist guy that always comments on anything even remotely related to Aventurine? I bet they'd have a field day with this.
Agree (387), Disagree (202)
Crimson_Morality:
@Rocket_Bird I'm not racist, I just hate Aventurine.
(This comment has been partially removed by a moderator for violating our community guidelines.)
Agree (51), Disagree (875)
Galactic_Baseballer:
@Crimson_Morality You can't say you're not racist and then say something racist, my guy. Get stick bugged lol.
Agree (1000+), Disagree (45)
Mintbreeze:
Are we not going to talk about Aven needing a consent form to get married? What's the deal with that!?
Agree (23), Disagree (874)
Sincerest:
@Mintbreeze You're new here, aren't you?
Agree (882), Disagree (54)
* * *
For the past week, Aventurine has had no energy whatsoever. It feels impossible to rouse himself enough to get out of bed. The mere idea of eating, bathing, changing clothes, brushing his hair and teeth, and putting on makeup to go out only add to the heavy weight of his exhaustion.
He does it anyway, though, because he knows he has to.
For a few days, anyway.
After that, it's only with Ratio's patient encouragement that he's able to lift his heavy body, eat even though he has no appetite, and take care of his personal hygiene while Ratio reminds him that this is a normal part of dealing with depression, that there's nothing wrong with him, and that he still loves him. Not in those words, and not always that nicely, but Aventurine can't even gather the motivation to recount his quotes accurately.
Near the end of the week, he's forced to drag himself out of bed on his own to make the appointment at the jeweller's, which Ratio can't attend with him because he has classes to teach. Understandable, and not his fault, but it doesn't stop Aventurine from feeling just a little uneasy. It's not that he's incapable of doing it on his own—of course he's capable, he's a Stoneheart, and he's undergone much tougher tasks on his own in the past—it's just that he's grown so used to having Ratio's constant comfort that it almost feels strange leaving the apartment without him now.
He still manages to make himself go, but even though he plasters on his sweetest, most amiable smile, he can tell that the people he has to interact with aren't entirely buying it. Most people are polite enough not to mention it, but the clerk who is measuring his finger—right hand, fourth finger—suggests that his clearly fake smile is because he's in this marriage against his will. "Blink twice if you're being held captive," she says, and then winks, as if to signal this could be taken as a joke.
It's not funny.
He knows she didn't mean anything by it, but it's impossible not to let it dredge up old memories of being held captive for real—the things that were done to him, and the things he's been forced to do to others. It makes the tattoo on the side of his neck itch, and he has to fight himself hard to keep from scratching at it in public.
After dropping off his ring, he goes back to his room so he can gather up his belongings, with plans to meet Ratio after his classes are out so they can go home together. Instead of packing, though, he ends up crawling into the familiar comfort of his bed and finds himself unwilling to get back up. Now that he's spent so much time in the rich, warm opulence of Ratio's apartment, his room feels even more like a prison cell than before, but it's what he deserves, so he doesn't move until Ratio comes looking for him.
"Oh, Darling," Ratio sighs, probably impatient with him by now.
Why does Ratio want him anyway? What makes him so attractive to someone like Ratio, whose life is filled with perfection otherwise? Why would he willingly shackle himself to someone like Aventurine? It still doesn't make sense. It probably never will.
Maybe, he thinks, he should stop trying. He should stay like this—allowing himself to waste away until he dies. This is what Ratio signed up for, after all. He knew what he was getting into when he decided that he wanted to play house with someone who's as big of a problem as Aventurine is. It's not as if he hasn't been casually bringing up his suicidal ideation ever since they first met. How can it be Aventurine's fault if Ratio placed a high stakes bet with low probability of any meaningful return?
How much does it cost to hold a funeral in Pier Point, anyway? Enough that Ratio is definitely going to end up operating at a loss by the time this is all over.
Aventurine doesn't even have the energy left to cry over these thoughts, but he must look awfully close, because Ratio ends up settling into bed with him, holding him tightly until he feels like he can move again.
They pick up takeout on their way home. Aventurine eats less than half his meal, and then goes back to bed.
It's ridiculous, too. He was doing really well before this episode. He was improving—Ratio even told him so, praised him in his own way—so why? Why is this happening? Has his luck finally run out? Maybe he's just been too comfortable, too happy lately, and some otherworldly force out there just needs him to suffer.
Maybe it's because of this marriage. Not the legal binding itself, but the way everything happened so quickly. He'd been so uncertain of taking this particular gamble, but he'd desperately wanted to—for the first time in as long as he can remember, he'd taken a risk for himself, not to test fate or because he had no other options. He wanted to be happy, and to have the sense of normalcy that a stable relationship would bring; he'd just failed to factor in that he'd need to be stable to begin with for that to be possible.
Now he's crashing from the momentary high. Logically, it's sound. It's not like this is the first time it's happened, either. All the other times, he'd just had to wait it out and act like he was fine in the meantime, so that's more or less what he decides to do in hopes that it'll all blow over eventually.
* * *
It's a Saturday afternoon, quiet in the apartment as it generally is. The curtains in the bedroom are drawn against the sun as it tries to glare in through the tall windows. Aventurine lays in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin, awake and scrolling down a list of entries on an archive website specifically for fiction, for lack of anything better to do. A few titles and some combinations of tags jump out at him, but nothing really snags his interest enough to click into them before his attention is completely diverted by the shrill sound of Ratio's ringtone. It tears through the apartment from the living room where his husband has been sitting to give him some space.
Ratio picks up before it even has a chance to get to the second ring, makes an attempt at greeting the caller, and then stops short. He stays quiet for a long few minutes before he gets a chance to respond, "Yes, that was what I wished to discuss with you per my original message." He sighs, then, heavily. "It's true."
There's another, briefer silence, and then Ratio says, "Only a week and a half ago. It was a very private affair—considering this, I foolishly believed we would have had more time to arrange something before the media got a hold of it."
Aventurine can't help but wonder who's on the other end of the line. Obviously, Ratio is talking about their marriage, but he can't really put together who he might have needed to tell, who he thought he had more time to break the news to. Higher-ups at the Intelligentsia Guild? At the IPC in general? A voice in the back of his mind, which he chooses not to listen to, suggests that it might be a lover, but that... that's just not feasible. He was Ratio's lover. The idea that there's more than one person who could entertain him, keep him coming back for more, and satisfy him sexually is ridiculous at best.
The idea that Veritas Ratio, of all people, could handle more than one casual relationship with the kind of person he must be attracted to, is actually funny enough that Aventurine almost laughs.
The train of thought is curbed before it has time to derail Aventurine's whole day, and he feels proud of himself for that.
"Meet her? Oh, I...." Ratio says then, sounding a little more tense—panicked, not angry, Aventurine can tell the difference sometimes. He hesitates before he continues with, "He's.... He's home, yes, but he's been feeling somewhat under the weather lately. I'm not certain whether he'll be up to a chat or not."
There's another pause, after which Ratio says, "Yes, he. I trust that won't be an issue."
Another moment of silence, another response, "Good. Since we are in agreement, I will go and talk to him."
Predictably, it's only a moment later when Ratio enters the bedroom on soft feet, creeping across the floor as he approaches. Aventurine is curled up with his back facing the door, so he figures Ratio isn't intentionally sneaking up on him like an assassin in the... middle of the afternoon, but is perhaps, considerately, checking to make sure he's actually awake first. His hand makes contact with Aventurine's shoulder, and Aventurine turns his head to look at him, blinking owlishly.
"I'm assuming you heard all that," he says, leaning down to kiss Aventurine's temple.
Aventurine nods. "Who is it?"
Ratio takes a deep breath, stiffens enough that Aventurine can feel it in the hand on his shoulder. "It's my parents. I had originally intended to schedule a meeting with them so that we'd have more time to prepare, but it appears that major news outlets on my home planet have somehow gotten a hold of our marriage record," he huffs, tone bitter. "I already let them know you aren't well, so you don't have to feel obligated to speak with them if you aren't ready."
"Thanks," Aventurine says, though he's not sure how he feels about this, if he's being honest with himself. What kind of a disappointment would he be if he didn't show his face, and make the effort to meet Ratio's parents? Can he be more of a disappointment than he already is? Then... does it really matter? "Maybe another time," he decides.
"That's perfectly alright," Ratio reassures. "Next time, we'll arrange a proper meeting, once you're feeling yourself again."
Aventurine nods, then Ratio kisses his forehead and slips back off to the living room to explain the situation to his parents. They seem to accept this, if the continuation of Ratio's half of the conversation is any indication—talking about work, recent projects, something related to... microbiology, Aventurine thinks. He doesn't falter in his speech, either, no need to stop and explain concepts or break things down into simpler terms, so Ratio's parents are likely at least a fraction as educated as their son is. It's probably no loss, then, if he just... doesn't interrupt their time together. What could he possibly contribute?
Except.... There's a pit of guilt growing in Aventurine's core. He can hear in Ratio's voice an animated sort of warmth that isn't usually there, so... maybe his parents are actually important to him. Maybe it would mean a lot to him if Aventurine made the effort. Out of consideration for his husband, maybe he should have put his own feelings aside and gotten up out of bed.
Maybe it's selfish of him not to.
There's nothing else for him to do but drag his leaden limbs out of bed and into the bathroom so he can make himself presentable. He showers and dresses in one of Ratio's sweaters, a white cable-knit which is more than oversized on him, with a turtleneck to hide his tattoo—it won't be easy nor comfortable to try and explain it to Ratio's parents if they ask—and then forgoes his usual red eye shadow for soft, shimmering neutrals instead.
It's a good thing he goes to this length, because when he finally emerges into the living room, Ratio is seated on the couch with a hologram chat pulled up. It makes sense. What parents wouldn't want to see their son when he's as busy as he is and has so little time to talk to them that he feels the need to schedule appointments over it? Still, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel apprehensive, despite knowing that outwardly, he looks every bit like he deserves to be at Ratio's side.
His mother must agree, because when Aventurine comes up to the back of the couch and leans over to plant a kiss on the top of Ratio's head, ending up very much in frame, she quite literally gasps.
"Oh, Veritas," she fawns, while Aventurine settles himself in the space next to his husband. Veritas shifts to make room for him, pulls him closer, and then takes his hand to lace their fingers. "He's beautiful, darling, look at him. You've done so well."
Aventurine feels his face flush and a shy smile creeps over his features. It's not that he isn't used to being called beautiful—he's heard it enough his entire life that it hardly ever fazes him—but the way she says it, so sincere and full of tenderness, he can't help but feel the faintest tingles of embarrassment. "Thank you," he says, his smile naturally pulling a little wider. "But I'm not all that pretty. It's just the makeup. I'm trying to make a good first impression."
"Nonsense," Veritas huffs. "Makeup could do precious little to hide it if you were ugly."
How charming. He must be nervous.
"Maybe I'm just self-conscious because I have to compare myself to your perfect face all the time," Aventurine nips back, "You look just like your mother, by the way. The resemblance is uncanny!"
Although he says this, it's... not really true. While there are certain aspects of Veritas—his seemingly innate elegance, his long, thick eyelashes, and the general purplish colour of his hair—that are similar to his mother, and others—like the shape of his jaw or the way he sits ramrod straight or his very serious expression—that he's probably inherited from his father, it's impossible for Aventurine to say with all honestly that he looks just like either of them.
They're not unattractive people, and he's sure it's possible that their son managed to hit the genetic lottery, gaining all the best aspects of each of their appearances, but he'd sooner believe that Veritas hired actors who look similar enough to him to pretend to be his parents. They're also both finely aged, and Aventurine can deduce quite easily that they must have waited to have their son later in life, perhaps once they were financially stable and well-established in their chosen careers based on this; he'd be lying if he said it didn't send a pang of envy through his heart.
His own parents married and had their children young—not uncommon for his tribe, considering Sigonia's harsh environment and low average life expectancy at the time—and then died before Aventurine even had the chance to know them. All he's heard of his father are stories passed down from his mother to his sister to him, and his recollection of his mother is hazy at best these days. Distantly, he wonders if his parents loved each other like Veritas' do, or if their union was arranged specifically for the continuance of the Avgin people.
Regardless, Veritas sighs at his statement, and the corner of his mouth ticks just a little—the greatest tell that he's trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "So I've been told," he says, and then changes the subject immediately. "Aventurine, I would like to formally introduce you to my parents—Providentia and Libertas Ratio. My mother is a professor emerita of biology with many great achievements to her name, who now runs her own pottery and ceramics business, and my father is a civil engineer."
"It's very nice to meet both of you," Aventurine says, stopping just short of telling them that Veritas has told him so much about them, because the one thing he's not going to do is lie and use false platitudes on his husbands parents. He wishes he could; playing the part of someone everyone will like is so much easier than being authentic when his brain feels like a box of rocks. "My name is Aventurine. I work for the IPC—"
"In the Strategic Investments Department. You're one of the Ten Stonehearts, aren't you?" is the first thing Veritas' father—Libertas—says to him, completely cutting him off. Well. That explains a lot. "The Sigonian one."
"Ahh, yes sir. I see my reputation precedes me," Aventurine laughs, nervously.
"Indeed it does," Libertas finishes, before thinning his lips into a firm line and sitting back against his seat.
That....
Is that good, or is that bad?
Aventurine is genuinely afraid to ask. Were it anyone else, he might have challenged them, but this is his father-in-law, and Aventurine's respect for his husband keeps him from getting defensive.
Apparently Veritas has no issue getting defensive for him, though.
"Is there an issue with Aventurine's reputation?" he inquires with a level tone, devoid of any warmth at all. A warning. "I certainly hope this has nothing to do with his origin. You would know better than to disrespect my partner when he's sitting right here next to me, I presume."
Briefly, Veritas' parents exchange looks—the kind of silent communication only achievable through years of unity. Aventurine certainly can't parse what they might be attempting to convey to each other, but it comforts him in some way knowing that he and Veritas have already spent some time honing this particular skill. Maybe that's a good sign.
"Not at all, Veritas," Providentia finally says. Unlike her husband, she's sweet and soft, making direct eye contact with Aventurine through the hologram in a way that makes him feel... some kind of way. "Aventurine, darling, we're so pleased to welcome you into our family, no matter where you've come from and where you're going. You are a blessing—a gift from the divine to our Veritas, just as he was a gift to us. Whatever path you've walked until now, it has converged with ours, and we're grateful to have you. Please take care of our son."
Oh. And... that also explains a lot.
Libertas sighs heavily, in a way that's very similar to how Veritas always does, "On the contrary, Veritas, if I'm going to disrespect him, this would be the perfect opportunity to do it—to his face rather than behind his back."
Aventurine feels a pit form in his stomach.
"It's no secret that Sigonia-IV is a world of licentious hedonism and rampant idolatry—"
"Whoa," Aventurine says, out loud, because this was definitely not the direction he expected this to take at all.
"—and this Sigonian in particular is—"
"My husband," Veritas cuts in.
"—one of the most competent individuals the IPC has in their employ, if you would allow me to finish," Libertas spits back. "In order to have elevated yourself to the position you're in, Aventurine, you must have endured great hardships and fought every step of the way. That's very respectable. Only someone capable of great perseverance, patience, and compassion could have made their way into Veritas' heart—a nigh impossible feat—and I can only commend you for that. I know my wife and I will be proud to call you our son-in-law."
Aventurine holds his breath for a long while, unsure of how to even respond to this. Somehow.... Somehow—he glances at Veritas, whose eyes are shut in concentration; Aventurine can almost hear the mantra in his head as he attempts to calm himself down—this also makes sense.
Anyway, Providentia and Libertas are definitely Veritas' parents and definitely not paid actors.
"Thank you, sir," Aventurine finally breathes out, relieved. "I'll admit, you had me panicking for a second there. Most statements directed at me that start that way end much differently. Although, I must disagree with you on one thing. Veritas is the patient and compassionate one of the two of us. I still have some work to do."
"Our Veritas, patient and compassionate," Providentia hums, exchanging yet another look with her husband. This time, Aventurine doesn't need to guess what they're thinking. If he thinks back to when he awoke in the hospital with Veritas at his side, he remembers the shock of having his forehead kissed, being held, and the soft affirmations that he'd desperately needed to hear. Prior to that interaction, if someone had told him that Veritas Ratio was patient and compassionate, he would've outright laughed.
Providentia sighs, wistfully. Her eyes travel from Aventurine to Veritas, lingering on his face, full of what Aventurine assumes is motherly love. "You know, Veritas has always excelled at everything he's put his mind to. The only thing he's ever struggled with is connecting with others," she says, and Veritas' face immediately flushes.
"Mother, please," he hisses, and Aventurine nudges him to shut him up.
Providentia continues, unfazed, "He did have one friend around the eighth grade, but he was hyper-focused on nuclear physics at the time, and kept trying to convince this friend to help him create a miniature antiproton decelerator for... Nous knows what, although I believe he was attempting to create antimatter bombs—keeping in mind, he was fourteen years old at the time. Needless to say, he was quite... incensed that his friend didn't share his interest. They didn't last long after that."
Libertas then chimes in, "When he left for university the year after, he used to call home every night. Eventually, he stopped calling quite so often, but by then we were certain he had simply resigned himself to solitude. As brilliant as he is, and as passionate as he is about helping people, he never did figure out how to get them to like him."
"I like him," Aventurine says. "No one else needs to. To me, he's perfect the way he is."
Unexpectedly—not only to Aventurine, but also to Veritas' parents—he's pulled over as soon as these words leave his mouth, so that Veritas can kiss the side of his head and nuzzle into his hair lovingly.
For the rest of the conversation, Veritas holds Aventurine close, keeping mostly quiet while Aventurine gets to know his in-laws. Thankfully, a skilled conversationalist, he manages to maintain amiability while keeping the topic mostly off himself, choosing only to discuss surface level topics, although Libertas does manage to engage him in a very heated debate on poker strategies at one point.
He lets Veritas handle the topic of their relationship when it comes up, only somewhat worried about telling the truth of their sordid affair. Veritas doesn't care. He tells his parents exactly how they met, how long they've known each other, and that they weren't even officially a couple until their wedding—"Elopement," Libertas corrects him—and blessedly, Veritas' parents don't seem surprised or upset by any of it.
The only reaction is from Providentia, "I suppose that means we can't expect grandchildren anytime soon."
Had Aventurine been drinking, he probably would have choked.
"Mother, please," Veritas hisses. Aventurine thinks, perhaps this is a normal occurrence between them. "That is highly inappropriate. Disregarding the fact that we're both men—"
This time, it's Libertas. He cuts Veritas off mid-sentence without a care in the world. "You're more than intelligent enough, Veritas. If you really wanted to, I doubt biological sex would be an obstacle for you."
Aventurine thinks Libertas just weakness broke his own son, leaving him imprisoned due to tens of thousands of points of Imaginary damage, because Veritas freezes immediately, the colour in his face slowly changing from pink to red.
"I mean, I am an Avgin. Who knows what I'm capable of. It's not like there's many of us left to study. I'll keep trying until we come up with a definitive answer, don't worry. Think of it like a science experiment," Aventurine chirps, pleased with himself when Veritas turns an incredulous look onto him. "Oops, I think I embarrassed him. He looks so cute like this."
"Failing that, even if you can't have children of your own, there's always adoption," Providentia points out. "We can help you start the process when you're ready if you like. Don't hesitate to reach out."
And that.
Aventurine thinks that makes the most sense of all.
He turns to his husband, looks him dead in the eye and says, "You're adopted?"
And apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Apparently Veritas didn't know. Because after that, all Hell breaks loose.