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Veritas has a strict morning routine. Rise promptly after seven and a half system hours of sleep. Spend precisely forty-five system minutes on his strength training routine and another twenty-five on cardiovascular work. Finally, eat a breakfast consisting of a protein-based supplement flavored to mimic the ambrosia of his home planet and a selection of in-season fruit from the galaxy where he’s currently based.
It does not, under any circumstances, involve unexpected inane chatter from the Stellaron-possessed Nameless.
Those distractions are reserved for a certain Stoneheart peacock who takes too much joy in sending inappropriate messages to catch Veritas off guard. Veritas never should have responded the first time Aventurine sent him a half-clothed photo of hickies and finger-shaped imprints. Now it’s a ritual of working with Aventurine—let himself be seduced, wake to a cold bed, and later in the day receive a gallery of bite marks and bruises he’s only half-aware he made.
If Veritas saves some images to a private folder, that is his own business and no one else’s.
So when Veritas wakes to a string of photos of sentient, cake-adjacent creations from Caelus, he knows that he’s already started the day on the wrong foot.
[04:14] Caelus: look at this
[04:14] Caelus: <img_0103.jpg>
[04:16] Caelus: wait no, wrong one
[04:16] Caelus: <img_0104.jpg>
[04:29] Caelus: I rearranged them a little, and now they’re cuddling
[04:30] Caelus: <img_0108.jpg>
[04:30] Caelus: the blue one looks like you, right?
Caelus is, unfortunately, not wrong. The white and blue cake-cat is indeed reminiscent of Veritas. The similarities are beyond obvious—the golden laurel stuck to the creature’s head, the purple of its body matching Veritas’ own locks, the owl mask adorning its tail. The angles of the second and third photos leave no doubt that this creation mimics Veritas to an impeccable degree.
How it came to be is a question that merits thorough research and replication, if not a little unease. Ruan Mei of the Genius Society has evidently let her imagination run loose without a care for the ramifications of her work, though it’s hardly the first time. Ultimately, it will be to Veritas’ and the Intelligentsia Guild’s benefit. He can easily come up with at least a half-dozen applications for the cloning and synthesis techniques needed to create this creature by the end of the day.
More perturbing is the fact that paired with the Veritas-creature in the third photo is another who resembles Aventurine, its tail hooked possessively over the left paw of the Aventurine-creature.
And it is a copy of Aventurine, even if Veritas has his doubts that Caelus has ever met the man. The creature’s shell is the same shade of turquoise as Aventurine’s favorite shirt, and the heavy steel gray of its feet match Aventurine’s prized hat and coat. The spade on the belt wrapped around its tail is an entirely unnecessary additional confirmation.
In the photo, the Aventurine-creature leans sleepily into the Veritas-creature, eyes shut, mouth curled into a familiar self-satisfied smirk. If the image had sound, it would no doubt be purring.
Veritas’ chest tightens at the sight, and he forces himself to scroll away.
He lands on the first erroneous photo. The Veritas-creature is not in this one, and Caelus obviously did not mean to send it to Veritas. He would typically ignore the mistake or reprimand Caelus to think first next time, but he instead finds himself staring at it.
In it, the Aventurine-creature sits atop a table, fussing with a coin. Its eyes are open in this photograph, and dazzling magenta and aquamarine stare in awe at its shiny plaything, its mouth slightly agape in wonder. The creature’s fascination with money is entirely unsurprising; Veritas would expect no less of any being aping Aventurine’s likeness. He’s reminded sharply of the way the real Aventurine likes to fiddle with poker chips when half-listening. It’s uncomfortably endearing.
Veritas immediately resents the string of messages. The implicit accusation in the third image taunts him, mocks him for things left unsaid.
How truly unconscionable that an artificial organic lifeform can accuse Veritas so thoroughly in but a single frame.
[06:48] Veritas Ratio: It does share certain features with myself. More importantly, however, if you have the protocol for how one would go about creating such a being, forward them at your earliest convenience. The Intelligentsia Guild thanks you for your service.
[06:50] Veritas Ratio: Additionally, should you have other similar photographic evidence of this pair of creatures, attach it.
Reply sent, the images make their way into Veritas’ private folder in short order. The creatures’ bright colors stand out next to the collage of pale skin and myriad bruises. Before he locks his phone, he pauses, hovering over his wallpaper settings.
Does he give into temptation? No one would know but him if he chose the third image as the backdrop to his phone’s home screen. And it is quite cute—he can admit that much. Veritas may favor marble as a medium, but he is far from stone-hearted himself, no matter what the masses may believe of him.
Before he can waste more time, he confirms the choice. The Veritas-creature and Aventurine-creature cuddle behind the display of his app folders, complacent and oblivious. It is far too easy to get lost in the carefree joy of the creatures, at once so much like and so different from Veritas’ own encounters with the real Aventurine.
Eventually, Veritas tears himself away, his cheeks warm. He is seventeen minutes late to his routine, and he needs to make up the difference before he heads out.
~*~
“Ratio.”
Veritas turns a page. “What.”
There’s a rustle of sheets and a hand tugging at his elbow.
“Ratio,” Aventurine says again, more emphatic this time.
If there is anything that Aventurine is truly proficient at, it’s wheedling Veritas, dragging him along at Aventurine’s pace, especially at times like these. It’s hard to deny him—he’s more open after intercourse, the rigid lines of his ever-present smile softened and blurred to approximate honesty. It never lasts long, and it’s always gone again by the time he leaves while Veritas sleeps.
Veritas can forgive himself for indulging Aventurine. He sighs and sets his book on the nightstand, only to have a device shoved in his face.
“So, what are these?”
In his hand is—Veritas’ phone? With the screen lit up, and the cake-cat creatures on full display. Unbidden, his heart squeezes at the sight, as it always does.
And then—realization. His ears burn, and he yanks his phone away to toss it on the nightstand, out of Aventurine’s reach.
Aventurine was never supposed to see that. How did he even get Veritas’ phone anyway? It was on Veritas’ desk in the other room when he arrived.
Aventurine laughs, raucous, like Veritas is a cosmic joke. And maybe he is. Why else would he be in this situation? He slaps a hand over Aventurine’s mouth to muffle the sound.
Right on cue, Aventurine licks his palm. Veritas grimaces in disgust, but removes his hand to let him speak.
“I never thought the great Dr. Ratio would like something so cute.”
Veritas refuses to meet Aventurine’s gaze. He can hear the mirth in his voice plainly enough. “You thought wrong, then. Perhaps you ought to examine your assumptions better next time.”
Aventurine hums, non-committal, and rolls over to prop himself up on one arm. The sheet slides down his torso to bare a few pink marks that may yet become bruises—but Veritas stops himself before can follow that train of thought further. It isn’t as though he won’t have that information by midday tomorrow anyway.
“Where did you get the… whatever those are?”
“I have never seen the creatures in person, let alone owned one. They are yet to be officially given an official name by the Guild. The Nameless with the Stellaron keeps a colony of them on the Herta Space Station.”
“The—what?”
“You heard me.”
“Then why do you have that picture on your phone?”
Veritas finally fixes Aventurine with a glare. He is perceptive enough to know what compelled Veritas to keep the photo without it said aloud. Then again, he’s also enough of a provocateur to insist that Veritas say it anyway.
Aventurine smiles back at him, all false, docile innocence.
“The images were sent to me by Caelus unprompted.”
Aventurine raises his eyebrows. “Images? Plural?”
Veritas bites his tongue. An unforced error.
“Come on, you can’t just say that and not show me.” He waves an arm across Veritas in a half-hearted attempt for the phone, but Veritas bats him away.
“You’ve seen enough already. You have far too much ammunition at my expense as it is.” And Veritas will be damned before showing Aventurine any of the other contents of the private folder with the photos of the cat-cake creatures.
“I’m not making fun of you, really—I mean, maybe I am, but only a little.” Veritas scowls down at him harder. Aventurine’s grin doesn’t waver. “I just didn’t think you’d have something so… cute, or sentimental. I was expecting a photo of your gallery of statues or at least a picture of yourself.”
The worst part is that Aventurine isn’t wrong. It had been the former until he received Caelus’ texts.
Regardless, Aventurine’s curiosity is an invasion of privacy. “How did you get your hands on my mobile device in the first place?”
Aventurine chuckles. “Come now, Professor, I thought you’re the one who likes to say to not ask questions you know the answer to.”
“And you should know better than to take others’ belongings.”
“I was only borrowing it.”
“Then consider it returned, and no longer your concern.”
Aventurine watches Veritas, piercing, as though trying to break apart his skull. Veritas is immediately bitten by the temptation to shove one of his plasters over his head, but unfortunately, none are within arm’s reach.
After a long moment, Aventurine settles back into the bed, a careful distance away. He averts his eyes, holds himself apart so that they do not touch. “Is it really not my concern? I know what was in that lock screen picture.”
And—finally, the core of the matter. The topic Veritas was least looking forward to when he realized that Aventurine had seen. Well, no need to delay the inevitable.
“What of it? The protocol that Caelus was using is able to create artificial organic lifeforms that resemble living individuals. He happened upon a means of creating lifeforms that mimic you and myself. The Guild is still investigating the specifics of the required methodology. The Genius Society’s Ruan Mei did not leave thorough notes.”
“I see. Hopefully the endeavor proves to be a worthwhile investment.”
“The creatures themselves, perhaps not. They appear to be rather limited in their ability to communicate and their range of movements. But the low-cost and low-resource cloning, certainly.”
“The critters are cute, though.”
“…Yes,” Veritas concedes. “Their form may well be their purpose.” Veritas considers his next words. His heart pounds in his throat, and he swallows thickly around it. “From Caelus’ notes on their behavior, the creatures’ personalities tend to resemble the individuals whose features they capture. That also appears to be the case of those inspired by ourselves, as captured in that photo.”
He won’t be more direct than that. Where they go from here depends on Aventurine. He can sidestep what Veritas has implied, and they’ll continue as though this conversation never happened. Or he can do his part and see through what he started.
Aventurine laughs quietly, a little hollow. “Is that so?”
Veritas clears his throat. “So far as I can tell—yes.”
Aventurine considers this for a moment, his gaze searching. Veritas forces himself to look back, impassive, and eventually Aventurine grins, wide and mischievous. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Does that mean that you want to cuddle, Doctor? You could have just said so.”
And there it is again, Aventurine’s forced charm, his false bravado. Veritas’ patience wears so thin it snaps.
That may not have been what Veritas meant, nor what he originally intended, but—
“I’m not opposed to the idea.” He shifts closer, wraps an arm around Aventurine’s shoulders and reels him in, until his head is against Veritas’ chest.
Aventurine stiffens at the contact, his expression frozen. It is impossible to get a read on what he’s thinking. But surely he must hear the hammering of Veritas’ heart.
Eventually, finally, Aventurine relaxes, molds himself into the contact. He lays an arm across Veritas’ body, featherlight and tentative, the tips of his fingers tickling against Veritas’ ribs.
It’s ridiculous that such an innocent touch leaves Veritas so flustered, especially given their history. There is nothing of the other they haven’t seen or touched before. As it is, they’re clad only in their underwear.
Veritas pulls Aventurine in tighter. There’s an answering grip against his side. He feels more than hears the laughter against his collarbone.
“Who knew you were so touchy-feely, Professor?”
“I am not, usually. But for you—well, you only ever needed to ask.”
Aventurine’s hair brushes Veritas’ neck as he looks up, eyes wide.
“What?”
Veritas frowns back. “Do you doubt me?”
“No, I—well, I’m sure you mean it right now.” He waves a hand. “Post-sex hormones and all that.”
Veritas wrinkles his nose. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Heat rises in his cheeks again, and he breaks eye contact. “You asked why that photo was on my phone. And—I believe this will be a sufficient answer.”
Slowly, Veritas turns back and leans down, until Aventurine is a breath away. He holds for a moment, one final chance for Aventurine to stop him from dragging them over this uncrossed line, but Aventurine merely watches, his breath quickening in anticipation.
The kiss is gentle, far more tender than any they’ve shared before. Almost too chaste, but Veritas keeps the pace slow. Just lips against each other, and hands cautious but roaming free. When Aventurine finally pulls back, Veritas has to stop himself from chasing the contact and turning it deeper and more biting.
Aventurine pushes him back, before settling again into the crook of Veritas’ neck. He’s calmer this time, the cat that finally got the cream. “I suppose that was satisfactory.”
Veritas’ hackles rise before he can stop himself. “Satisfactory? Is that all you have to say?”
Aventurine laughs, open and honest for the first time all evening, before pressing a light kiss to Veritas’ chin. “I’m just teasing, Ratio.” His voice drops. “I… appreciate the sentiment. I didn’t really think you’d say anything if I asked you about that picture, but I guess I can’t complain.”
What will it take to get through Aventurine’s thick skull? Has Veritas not already bared enough of his soul?
Impulse seizes him again. He tightens his hold against Aventurine. “Stay the night.”
“Hmm?”
“You have always run away before morning when there is never any need. So stay.”
Aventurine blinks at him, bemused, before looking away, his mouth twisted unhappily. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Not just sex, but me to warm your bed? You’ll change your mind in the morning.”
“I—”
Veritas clears his throat. The words are not easy, but he should have said them a long time ago. It’s truly damning that the cat-cake creatures showed him just how lacking he has been, and still Veritas took the coward’s way out until Aventurine forced his hand.
“What I have wanted with you is more than physical intimacy. For a while now. And after tonight, I would expect that to be clear.” He leans down for another soft kiss against Aventurine’s mouth. “I would not ask if I were not sure.”
“Then…” Aventurine presses himself further against Veritas, face hidden, but the tips of his ears pink. “I’ll think about it.”
~*~
When Veritas wakes, Aventurine is still tucked into his side. He reaches behind him to check the time on his phone, but he pauses as the screen lights up.
On it is a new lock screen, clearly taken by the light of a single dim lamp as Veritas slept. It’s a far cry from a perfect imitation of the previous photo of the cat-cake creatures, but the posing is similar enough. Aventurine has his fingers laced with Veritas’ where Veritas’ arm dangles across shoulders, and his head is pressed into Veritas’ cheek. His arm obscures a quadrant of the screen where it holds the phone up above them. Veritas elects to ignore his own unflattering sleeping posture.
What draws Veritas’ eyes is the small, honest smile on Aventurine’s lips. He traces it with thumb and commits it to memory. With a sigh, he tosses the phone away and wraps himself firmly around Aventurine, letting his eyes drift shut again.
Veritas has a strict morning routine, but it is worth putting on hold for this.