Chapter Text
No one ever anticipates the slew of tasks and errands to do after a family member dies. Dealing with the corpse, the funeral, the morticians and the inheritance. Expensive, tiring. It never left anyone time to properly deal with grief. At least not those in the family who had to actually organize those things, which was always those closest related. Those who would likely miss them the most.
Well - at the very least they have taken care of most things after their father, adoptive father - though Sunday wasn’t sure if that really mattered - died. The funeral happened weeks ago. The inheritance arguments were solved. Sunday left most of that work to their very helpful lawyer instead of talking to any other would-be inheritors of the family. Estranged cousins and the like. There were still some things to do. Some lose ends to be tied off. Stuff to be sorted and thrown out. Luckily, Sunday supposed, he and Robin inherited the house. And Sunday lived in it anyways, so there was not really anything to be done. Which only left the storage unit that they have never heard of before until a notary handed them the keys for it, since they inherited it of course. It was about time that they took a look at what was actually stored there. Why ever their father got a storage unit. The basement had enough space for any knick-knacks that didn’t have any use. And their father was not known to own any knick-knacks that didn’t have any use.
Sunday let out a sigh, standing in front of the garage-like door of the unit. Robin tilted her head at him. He’d rather sleep than clean out a storage unit. Robin gave him a pat on the arm. After their father’s death, she decided to stay with him for a while. Her most recent tour was over. She could take some time off, just so he didn’t have to deal with the organizational issues alone. And so he wouldn’t be alone. While appreciated, it was wholly unnecessary, he was fine. He was fine.
The wind blew the chilly air into the gap of his coat by his neck. Better they get this over with quickly.
The door rattled as he pushed it up to open the storage unit. The smell of old, burned tobacco escaped immediately. Light flooded inside, illuminating an assortment of boxes, old small furniture and … a young man. The young man blinked at them, surprised. They blinked at him, surprised. He was reclining on an old sofa. A small TV playing something as it stood on a makeshift table made out of paper boxes. Sunday followed the cable into an outlet in the storage unit. Someone was paying for the electricity usage here. Now with their father dead it would be him.
The young man had shaggy blond hair. It almost looked like he had given himself a haircut. While it didn’t look bad , it looked messy. The tips touched his shoulders. There was a tattoo on his neck that looked like letters he couldn’t read in a language he didn’t speak. Piercing dual-tone magenta-blue eyes. Pale on account of being inside the storage unit - probably. He looked like he could tan quite well. Was he Avgin? Maybe. Though Sunday believed there were no survivors left. There shouldn’t be. He was dressed in a dark hoodie, dark sweatpants, wool socks pulled over the bottom of them to keep the cold air out. Old well-worn shoes were haphazardly thrown in a corner. A bottle of water stood on another make-shift box furniture creation, next to a bowl that was used as an ashtray.
“What are you doing in our father’s storage unit?” Sunday asked immediately.
“Ah!” The man made, “You are Mr. Oak’s kids?” he commented instead of answering the question.
Sunday narrowed his eyes at him.
“Well - he let me stay here, after he closed down the store,” he explained quickly.
Right. There were some stores the Oak Family owned. From bakeries to souvenir stores. All to sell to tourists in Penacony. Sometimes they were closed down if they stopped bringing in reliable profit. Though Sunday was not aware of his father being close enough to any employees that he’d give them a space to stay if the resulting job loss left them homeless. Nevermind that he’d let them stay in a storage unit of all things. It was not fit for a humanoid to live in. No kitchen, no bathroom, no running water, barely enough electricity so the naked lightbulb could be flicked on. Well, and apparently for an ancient television.
Robin tugged on his coat, getting his attention, “We should let him stay in our guest room,” she communicated telepathically to him.
“No,”
Her bottom lip jutted out in a put. He averted his gaze, “Please, ‘tis the season,”
“The season of letting strange men stay in our guest room?”
Her pout got stronger, “He seems nice,”.
Sunday covered his face with a hand. Right, right. It was winter - in reality at least. The people would celebrate the Xipetide soon. The holiday of compassion, of gift-giving, of family, of harmony. The harmony. Harmonious. Though most of the time the people focused on the gift-giving, rather than the other traditions that were supposed to make for a harmonious holiday in the cold seasons. In reality it was usually chilly in Penacony. The Dreamscape only showed an idealized version.
“Well, you cannot stay here,” Sunday gestured with an open palm at the strange man, speaking out loud again. He was taught at an early age to not just point at people with an index finger, “I will end the lease for this unit as soon as we have emptied out this unit,”
The man shifted awkwardly on the sofa.
“Do you have family or friends you can go to?”
An awkward, toothy smile, “It’s just good old me,”
“We can help you find any family or friends? If they’re not on Penacony,” Sunday just assumed he was a stowaway here. Someone who tried to illegally enter the Dreamscape, that their father found in a chance encounter and took pity on. Giving him a job and a place to stay when the job had to end. His father did have a soft spot for the weak and destitute, just like he had. It was instilled in him to help them. It was instilled in Robin to help the desperate few. They just didn’t always have the opportunity to do so with how the systems of the established world order worked. He should help the desperate. Though he was a little uncomfortable with just letting a stranger in his house.
The man shook his head, “Eh, I doubt you’ll find anyone,”
Sunday let out a weary sigh. Robin looked up at him pleading, “Let’s give him a place to stay until he can get back on his own feet - we owe it to dad too, if dad took him in,”
“Dropped him off in a storage unit and forgot about him,” Sunday mumbled to no one in particular. One of his wings twitched, since he was surprised by his own exclamation. Robin blinked at him surprised too, then nodded with a small smile in agreement. Another weary sigh, “Fine - you,” he gestured at the man again, “You can stay in our guest room, if you want to,”
The man stared at them for a while. His expression turned into something unreadable, as his eyes bore through Sunday’s chest. Sunday wanted to take a look in his head, to read his mind, to see what he was thinking. But the man had a right to privacy and had not yet proven to be possibly dangerous. He’ll do it, when he has to. Then the man beamed at them, the smile not quite reaching his eyes but seeming relieved that he won't be thrown out onto the street again - probably to be deported as soon as a Bloodhound caught him, because Sunday couldn’t imagine that he was legally staying in Penacony. If he was actually Avgin, being deported back to Sigonia would be likely the worst outcome for him. Lucky that Robin was there too. Lucky that Sunday probably would have at least made sure he wouldn’t get deported, “Ah! You guys are so nice! Lifesavers”
Sunday waved him off, “Help us at least to empty out the storage unit,”
“Aye, sir!” He saluted almost mockingly. Sunday rolled his eyes.
“What’s your name?” Robin asked him.
The man put a finger on his chin, seemingly trying to remember what he was called, “Aventurine, like the gem,”
Sunday raised an eyebrow at him. A fake name, surely, as no one would actually have to think about what they were called. He probably had to remember the name he gave their father, in case they would go and ask about the strange man. This Aventurine probably didn’t know that Mr. Oak passed away. It was not public information yet.
“I’m Robin,” Robin introduced herself. She politely shook his hand.
“Ah, I know who you are,” he said, “I saw you on TV. And him,” he pointed at Sunday, “I saw him on TV too, that’s Sunday. I just didn’t know you were related to Mr. Oak,”
“Don’t point at people, it’s rude,” Sunday scolded because he couldn’t help himself. The offending finger curled into a fist as Aventurine smirked at him amused.
“Why are you emptying out the storage unit?” Aventurine asked, when he picked up the first box.
“Father died, so I am ending the lease,” Sunday simply stated.
“Ah, I didn’t know, sorry,” Aventurine said. There was again a mixture of emotions playing across Aventurine’s face that Sunday couldn’t read.
Sunday shrugged with one shoulder. Aventurine set a box down.
“Do you want a hug?” Aventurine offered.
“What?” Sunday shook his head, “No, thank you,”
“Because we’re strangers?”
“Well, yes,”
“Understandable,” a small smirk played across Aventurine’s face. It seemed like he had fun throwing him off. But at least he just went back silently to work. Sunday noticed that he had a light limp while carrying out the boxes to the marked area where the garbage truck would pick it up. He pressed his lips tightly together in pain whenever he set it down. Well, if he wanted help for the pain he should tell them. Robin looked at him expectantly whenever he did that expression, waiting for Aventurine to admit to it, but he never did. Robin frowned at him.
“He’ll tell us if he needs help,” Sunday told her telepathically.
She shook her head, “I don’t think he will,” she answered in his head.
Sunday shrugged again. You can lead a horse to water - all that. Now that Aventurine was properly out in the light, there was light flush on his face that didn’t seem to come from the cold. A light sheen of sweat on his skin. Almost like he was a little feverish. Well, he really didn’t feel like sharing a car with a sick man. He already swapped enough germs in the storage unit. He wanted to wash his hands, brush his tongue, his nostrils, his sinuses, “Aventurine,” he said to get his attention. Aventurine turned to look at him, “Are you sick?” he asked.
Aventurine blinked at him. Then shook his head, “I don’t think so,”
“Hm,”
Aventurine laughed awkwardly.
“If you don’t feel well, you should tell us,” Robin stated very soft-spoken, but with a clear command, “We can help you, if you tell us,”
Aventurine looked at Robin, then at Sunday, then back at Robin again. Thinking. He was weighing his options. If he should actually tell them, “Eh, it’s fine - just pulled a muscle sometime ago,”
“You should go to a doctor,” Sunday said.
“Ah, but that’s so much trouble,” Aventurine bemoaned, “And I’m not exactly… well - If I go to a doctor I might get arrested,”
“Why?” Sunday pressed.
“Not for anything bad,” Aventurine quickly claimed, “I’m just not exactly legally here, you know?”
“I figured,” Sunday sighed.
“Doctors are not required to report you to the police,” Robin said, “You don’t have to show them identification either,”
“Not like I have any,” Aventurine mumbled.
Robin took his hand into hers, “You don’t have to worry - we won’t inform the authorities, neither will the doctors,” Sunday could clearly hear the hum of harmony from her. Something to just calm the nerves of the man down, as they may have asked him too many questions. Which honestly - they should ask way more questions - considering that the man would stay with them for an indefinite amount of time.
“I don’t have insurance,” Aventurine said. Which he didn’t even have to say, since as a stowaway, of course he didn’t have any.
“We’ll take care of the bill,” Robin assured. Not like anyone would ask Sunday first of his opinion. Nevermind that he’ll agree with whatever Robin decided to do, but it would have been nice if at least telepathically Robin would have asked him if he was fine with that.
A moment of silence as Aventurine just stared blankly at Robin, “Fine,”
Robin beamed at him, “Good! Let’s go to a doctor right now,”
Right, they can take care of the storage unit later, Sunday supposed. Robin picked up the items that she wanted to save from the few boxes they sorted out. A photo-album and a doll.
“Do you want to get anything from the unit before we go, Aventurine?” Sunday asked, keys already in hand to lock the storage unit.
“Ah,” Aventurine shook his head, “I am wearing what I own,”
“Very well,” with that Sunday locked the storage unit for now. This was not how he imagined this day to go.
—
The car ride to the hospital was quiet. It was easier to quickly find care for Aventurine if they went there. Apart from the smell of tobacco clinging to Aventurine, Sunday now noticed that there was just a general musk clinging to the man from - well - living in a storage unit. Old sweat, dust, dehydration. Honestly, Sunday wondered what his father’s plan with the man actually was. Just leaving someone behind in unlivable conditions for an indefinite amount of time seemed to be irresponsible. Not in character for his father. This was probably just a temporary solution before his father’s health declined so much that he couldn’t finish what he started. It was questionable that he didn’t inform Sunday of the situation. Would Aventurine have just starved to death in the unit if they didn’t visit it quickly? Or would he be back on the streets? Was he back on the streets already and just slept inside the unit? How long was he living in those conditions?
Sunday glanced at the rearview mirror. Aventurine sat in the back with Robin. They didn’t talk but Robin was just there to be a calming presence. She was better at reassurance than Sunday anyways. Sunday was good at listening to the sins of his people and to offer advice or forgiveness. Robin had actual experience with helping the homeless. The unfortunate victims of circumstances. She probably already had a plan in mind how to help the man they found back on his own feet. Sunday was just involved in it as another owner of the house.
“Here we are,” Robin announced once Sunday parked the car near the hospital entrance. She ushered him gently out of the car, so they could sign it at the reception.
Sunday could empathize with feeling uncomfortable in a hospital, though his reasons were different from Aventurine’s. He took out a mask he always kept in the glovebox of his car, an extra one for Robin and one for Aventurine. Robin put her mask on, while Aventurine just held his in a limb hand. While those two were busy at the front desk, Sunday pumped too much disinfectant at one of the nearby dispensers into his hands. Hospitals were just full of sick people. Coughing, sneezing, sniffling, groaning. It luckily wasn’t very full today in the waiting room. Sunday still tried to stand as far away as possible from anyone else. His skin started to crawl.
Robin returned with Aventurine in tow, “We will just wait for a bit until a doctor calls you,” she explained.
“Right,” Aventurine nodded, taking a seat when Robin motioned for him to sit down.
“They’ll just figure out why you’re in pain,” Robin smiled reassuringly, “and then fix the pain,”
Again Aventurine nodded. This time just to signal that he was listening.
“You also don’t have to speak with them alone, if you don’t want to,” Robin said, “Even if we only met today, if you’d prefer I can be with you - or Sunday,”
Aventurine looked between the two siblings, “I’d like you to be with me,” he said to Robin. Which was fine by Sunday. Robin was the nicer one of them. The man seemed to be more comfortable around her.
“I will,”
—
Sunday waited outside of the hospital while Robin and Aventurine were speaking to the doctors. He couldn’t stay inside anymore. He wanted to scratch his skin off. The walls started to crawl with the residue of someone who sneezed against it ages ago.
The smell of tobacco reminded Sunday of the fact that he sometimes liked to indulge too. Every now and then. Now with his insides twisting in shameful disgust at the sick people just existing, it seemed like a good idea to calm himself down with the burn of nicotine in his lungs. It’s not like he had anything else to do while he waited anyways. So he went to the little convenience store inside the hospital, bought a pack of cigarettes and just chain-smoked while waiting outside.
He watched the smoke curl in the air, remembering how father scolded him when he was caught as a teenager the first time for smoking cigarettes. It scared him enough to stop smoking completely until he was well into adulthood. Now it was just something he did sometimes to deal with stress or disgust or emotions in general. Father prophesied that this was a vice he will never be able to get rid off. He was right - like always. Nothing to do about that now.
Robin and Aventurine returned, meeting him outside. The limb in Aventurine’s gate was gone. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to have been fixed right then and there. The wonders of modern medicine, “Feel better?” Sunday asked.
Aventurine nodded, “Yes,” he looked a little shell shocked. Sunday will not pry what actually transpired in the hospital. It was none of his business. It would be overstepping many boundaries. They met only a few hours ago.
“He will have to take some medication for a bit,” Robin showed the packet of antibiotics they picked up, “But so far so good,” she squeezed Aventurine’s upper arm as a friendly gesture. It definitely was not just a pulled muscle then, so it was good that they made him see a doctor.
“Let’s go home,” Robin suggested, “To have some dinner and get you situated in your new room,”
It seems like the guest room has become Aventurine’s room already.
—
Their residence was situated in the outskirts surrounded by mostly single family homes. Simply because of the infrastructure of Penacony most homes did not have a large garden. They probably had one of the largest garden areas in this area simply because of the family name. So did many of the other Families of the Harmony. If they had a formal residence in Penacony. Sometimes Sunday wondered if those estate-like residences were necessary. A large garden was nice for children and animals, but as soon as they reached adulthood many spent their time inside the Dreamscape. If they could afford it. Those that couldn’t afford the Dreamscape, couldn’t afford a large garden either.
Sunday wanted, needed, to take a shower as soon as he stepped into the entrance of their house. But at the same time he didn’t want to leave his sister alone with a strange man of questionable origins in their house.
“How about you take a bath?” Robin suggested to Aventurine while she was taking of her coat, “You must be freezing only wearing that hoodie,”
“Ah, yes, thank you,” Aventurine simply agreed, still shell-shocked from the doctor’s appointment or fascinated by their house. He looked around curiously, toeing off his shoes when he saw Robin and Sunday taking off theirs. Robin placed a pair of slippers in front of his feet.
“I’ll prepare a bath for you,” Sunday said. This was a good opportunity for him to shower in the other bathroom, while the man was busy. He sent Robin a telepathic message that she should be careful, which she waved off. He reminded her that she was shot once already, which she waved off again. He let out the longest, weariest sigh. Today he sighed a lot. He was tired.
Their housekeeper entered the hallway, greeting them as soon as she spotted them. They introduced Aventurine and she told them that they were lucky they came now, because she was about to prepare dinner. Now she knew that there was an extra person to accommodate. With that she walked into the kitchen.
‘See? The housekeeper is there too, I’ll be fine,’ Robin sent to Sunday’s head and winked at him, “Ah, let me help you with the dinner,” Robin called and followed their housekeeper, leaving Sunday and Aventurine alone.
“First bathroom,” Sunday said to Aventurine, gesturing for him to follow him upstairs. On the way there he pointed at the doors lining the end of the hallway, “All of those rooms are guest rooms actually,” he explained, “You can pick one when you finished with your bath,” he eyed Aventurine up and down, “Drop your clothes in the laundry basket - I’ll bring you a clean set of clothes,”
Aventurine locked down at his hoodie, “I’m fine, you don’t have to,”
“I have to because you stink,”
“Oh,” Aventurine scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Well you know, you cannot smell yourself,”
Sunday just nodded, walking into the bathroom to already start the water. He explained shortly which way to turn the knob for hot or cold water and how to activate the heating system so the water could stay warm while he was in it. Shampoo, Body Wash and co. was neatly sorted into an open cupboard nearby. He could pick out whatever he wanted, “I do suggest you take a shower first before taking a bath or after, if you’d rather be submerged in warm water first,” Sunday mused, “So you don’t sit in dirty water or have dirty water clinging to your body,”
“Yes, I get it,” Aventurine huffed.
Sunday turned the floor heating on in the bathroom on the way out, just to be nice, “Give me a moment, I’ll be right back with your new set of clothes,” he could keep them after, in his opinion. It was lucky that Aventurine and him seemed to be about the same size. Aventurine was lean from being… homeless - Sunday was lean from not eating as regularly as he should.
When Sunday returned with a simple set of loungewear for Aventurine the man had already undressed to step in the shower and didn’t lock the door, “Ah - sorry, I didn’t expect you to undress before I return,” he was flustered, but managed to set down the clothes on the floor before giving Aventurine back his privacy and averting his gaze before seeing any privates. He believed he saw Aventurine tilt his head in confusion. Maybe the man just didn’t care about nudity, culturally or whatever else.
Sunday had to shake his head over the surprise of spotting their new roommate naked. This was fine - it was just an accident, he apologized, Aventurine didn’t screech in offense. It was time to shower himself. Get rid of the hospital stench and the dust from the storage unit. Cleanliness. Hygiene. Purity.
Right .
Sunday gathered himself to walk towards the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He carefully laid out a clean set of clothes, because he didn’t want to continue wearing the same fabric he wore inside the hospital. And they were more comfortable for wearing in the home. Soft cotton to relax in. Even if he was planning on working a little more after dinner. Just a routine he couldn’t shake. Every evening he and his father would finish whatever was left from work, before they’d end the night in reality. Then they’d continue to work in the Dreamscape. There was always something to do. Someone that needed to talk to them. Something that needed to be fixed or published or marketed. It was hard to shake off this habit. Not like he could.
He let himself be beaten by the spray of water until his skin turned red and irritated. The scrub of his loafer started to burn. The wonderful feeling of being squeaky clean. The layer of skin that was in contact with the world scrubbed off. He should probably think about using lotion after washing. At least Robin thought so. His skin was always a little dry. A little itchy. But he hated the stickiness lotion left behind. It felt like dust and lint would be magnetically attracted to his skin if he did.
He dried himself off. Blow-dried his hair. Threw the towel into the laundry basket to take care of after his self-inflicted extra-hours of work, if their housekeeper didn’t get ahead of him. When he made his way downstairs, dinner was already ready. His housekeeper mentioned happily how good the timing was. No one had to put the food away to be eaten later or had to shout through the house for anyone to hurry up.
Robin seemed to be pleased with the help she provided. Today they even had a dessert. They had a guest in the house after all.
Aventurine cleaned up quite nicely. He even found a razor and shaved the stubble he didn’t take care of earlier. It probably was nice to wash after being unable to do so for a while. There was actual confidence back in his posture, rather than just the playfulness he put on as an act to seem like a non-threatening person. With the grease washed out of his hair it seemed a lot fluffier, curlier. Even with his homemade haircut it framed his face better.
Before eating they bowed their heads in prayer. Aventurine watched them curiously,
“You do not have to join us,” Robin assured with a small smile before beginning, her eyes closed.
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Aventurine laughed, “I don’t know what to do,”
“Everyone does it a little differently,” Robin mused, “We just wish for THEM to guide the cosmos towards harmony,”
“I see,” He said.
Sunday cracked an eye open to see Aventurine roll his eyes. He closed the eye again. Today was not the day for a lecture about the Harmony. He did not ridicule their particular religion. He could understand how someone who was living in unfortunate circumstances may not be moved by the promise of Harmony for everyone. They have been living the opposite for quite some time. No one helped them. They probably prayed to every god they knew and have not received an answer. While Robin was humming her prayer he wondered if his father spoke to Aventurine about the Harmony - The Order.
When they started eating, Aventurine carefully watched Robin and Sunday. Waiting until they took enough bites off their plates until he deemed it safe. Though he still seemed hesitant while he put the pasta in his mouth. The way he held the fork seemed foreign in his hands. Awkward. Like his fingers were not used to holding cutlery. Interesting . Sunday will not point it out though. It would just seem like he was purposefully trying to embarrass the man.
“Do you enjoy your meal?” Robin asked when Aventurine started to eat the dessert. It was a simple pudding with whipped cream and some fruit.
“Yes,” Aventurine nodded. Once he got over the initial worry that something might be wrong with the meal, he had a second serving. Ravenous from probably not eating enough while living in the storage unit, “Though I expected the pudding to taste differently,” he frowned at it.
“It’s vegan,” Sunday said, “That’s probably why,”
“Ah,” Aventurine tilted his head, “Why?”
“I don’t eat animal products,”
Aventurine narrowed his eyes at Sunday, annoyed, “Well, I guessed that. But why do you not eat animal products,”
Sunday made a motion with his hands, “It’s more ethical, I don’t believe animals should be slaughtered or caged just for our enjoyment,” and it just felt cleaner to not eat animal products. They were full of disease and parasites. But people looked at him like he was insane if he mentioned that as another reason. He was sure as a child he consumed at least milk and cheese, though once he realized where that came from he felt it was disgusting to drink or eat that.
“I see,” Aventurine said.
—
Sunday looked over this week's financial reports in his office. He rested his cheek on the knuckles of his right hand, while scrolling through the results and what the data-analysts projected for the upcoming week.
The door of his office opened, Aventurine stepped in. Sunday glanced at him, “So, how are we doing this?”
“Do what?”
Aventurine smirked at him knowingly, striding towards the desk. He put his hands on the desk, leaning forward, slightly into his personal space, “No need to play coy, Mr. Oak,”
Sunday did not like where this was going, if he was assuming correctly.
“I am assuming correctly that you’re the house head and the owner of this house right?”
He was somewhat right. With their father’s death he was now the head of the Oak family. Though this house was equally owned by Robin and him. She had equal rights to decide if they should take a tenant or not. If they should sell the house or not. Sunday didn’t feel like correcting him though. Aventurine probably assumed this from a mixture of information. Sunday’s and Robin’s public appearances, the fact that Robin convinced Sunday to let Aventurine stay, that he was the older one and simply because he was a man. He didn’t answer, just watched Aventurine carefully.
Aventurine’s chin tipped up slightly, self-satisfied, “You let me stay in your home, you feed me, dress me, make me clean up,” he listed, “Nothing comes for free. So, do I fuck you, do you fuck me? That’s why you made me see a doctor too, right? To make sure I don’t have any diseases,”
Sunday leaned back in his chair. Well, he somewhat assumed that Aventurine was going there. But he didn’t think that he’d be so blunt about it. There were questions of course about Aventurine’s past popping into his head. What the man had experienced. Why the distrust towards the good in people was so strong. How everything needed to be transactional. Since he didn’t have anything to offer but his body, his body was offered for the exchange. He also wondered if there was an exchange with his father. Sunday’s face set into a deep frown, “Did you and my father -” he cleared his throat, “do this…transaction for favors?” He could simply peer into his head to see what had happened. But he shouldn’t because it was impolite and also because he was afraid of what he might see.
Aventurine blinked at him, “I suppose it would be weird if I fucked your dad before,” he muttered, “But no - nothing like that,” he shook his head, “I just had a normal job,”
“I see,” Sunday let out a big relieved sigh.
“So?” Aventurine prompted, “What do you want? I’m great at sucking cock, I’ve been told,”
Sunday shook his head. He wasn’t sure how he should react. His initial gut reaction told him to act in anger. To be offended at the crass terms Aventurine used and the assumption that he was the type of man to use the desperate situation of another person to coerce them to perform sexual favors for him. There was pity that Aventurine simply assumed that of people, so he was definitely done wrong in the past. Obviously - the man was a homeless stowaway. Though voicing pity didn’t seem like the correct reaction either. And he was also just tired. Exhausted. He was an excellent listener and excellent at forgiving people when they confessed their sins to him. Dealing with people that had issues like that - well - Robin was much better at that than him. Much better educated too.
“You -” Sunday huffed out a breath, deciding to change his words in the middle of the sentence, “I don’t like that you assume about me that I would demand sexual favors in exchange for kindness,”
Aventurine raised both eyebrows like he wasn’t convinced.
“You do not owe me or Robin anything,” Sunday looked back at the financial reports, “Now, if that was all - I’d like to get back to work,”
Aventurine continued to stare at Sunday, not moving from the stance he had at his desk, expectantly. Sunday managed to ignore him for a good while, but even during his best days he didn’t appreciate being stared at, “If you feel uncomfortable with receiving ‘handouts’ you can help my housekeeper in exchange for room and board, then you have a normal job again,” he also should put Aventurine on a payroll for that, if he actually worked. Just basic living necessities was not fair pay at all. He’ll discuss this in the morning with Aventurine though.
Finally Aventurine took his hands of Sunday’s desk, relaxing his stance, “Okay, yes, I can do that,”
Sunday nodded affirmatively, “I’ll let her know. She’ll wake you up in the morning and tell you how you can help,”
Another moment of silence. Aventurine didn’t leave yet.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, “For your first task you can make me a coffee, I suppose,” he offered, “I take mine with milk and sugar. We only have plant-based milk in the house, you cannot make an error,”
“Uhm,” Aventurine shifted awkwardly on the spot.
“The instructions for the espresso machine in the kitchen are written on the side of it,” he explained. He didn’t mention that the instructions were put there by his housekeeper because he forgot how to use it every single time.
“Uhm,” Aventurine made awkwardly again.
“What is it?” Sunday thought about the tattoo on Aventurine’s neck, “Ah, right, my apologies, you might not be able to read the letters we use in Penacony,”
“Actually I cannot read at all,” he shrugged, “Well, I can read some words. But most I cannot,”
“Okay, well,” Sunday got up from his seat, “Fine, I will show you how to use the espresso machine,
”Sorry,” Aventurine muttered, “Should’ve let me just suck your dick, I know how to do that,”
Sunday clicked his tongue annoyed, ushering Aventurine out of his office, “There will be none of that,” nevermind that Sunday didn’t even have a dick. Though Aventurine likely would never figure that out. But with his habit of walking into rooms unannounced this might just happen eventually. Paying him for working with his housekeeper seemed more and more like an excellent idea. He should pay him enough to find his own apartment to live in. But he should be able to read first at least. So they’ll take care of that too.
Sunday read the helpful instructions on the side of the machine out loud, then went ahead to brew the espressos he’ll later turn into his coffee concoction, that someone called disgusting. He won’t even think of the name of that dog. He sniffed offended remembering the Bloodhound sputtering after taking a sip from his coffee without requesting if he was allowed. He decided to make a second coffee for Aventurine, though decided to leave out the sugar because it was claimed in the past that he drank his too sweet. Most of the time, Sunday preferred his coffee iced. But in the evening it felt good to have a hot drink.
“Thank you,” Aventurine took a small sip, “But not necessary,”
Sunday shrugged, “I was doing it anyways,”
Robin peeked into the kitchen, “Oh? Drinking coffee this late?” the machine was very loud, of course she heard it, “You won’t be able to sleep tonight at all!”
“I cannot sleep anyways,” Sunday just muttered.
“Maybe because of all the coffee you drink,”
“Maybe,”
Aventurine silently watched the siblings, drinking his own coffee.