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“Let me see if I understand you,” Aventurine says, voice already teetering on the precipice of exasperated. He didn’t think he would ever really be the type to get exasperated, but Silver Wolf tries his patience in new and interesting ways every single time they speak. “You want me to break into a masquerade ball for you?”
“You break into things all the time!” she replies. “How is this any different?”
Aventurine scoffs. “I break into computers all the time! Unless you’ve forgotten what the entire reason we know each other is?”
“And now I want you to break into a computer in person!” Silver Wolf huffs, crossing her arms petulantly as her hologram flickers. “Look, come on, I know you’re going to want this one.”
He just sighs, resting his face in his hands for a brief moment before looking back up at her. “What makes you so sure about that? I wasn’t lying about wanting to scale back on how many contracts I took.”
She rolls her eyes, her projected features looking about as annoyed as they can be. “I sent you the guest list for the event you’ll be attending. Read it over. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll send you the terms for the contract.”
With that, she flickers out of existence before Aventurine has a chance to tell her that there’s no way in hell he’s doing this contract. He’d made a deal with Ratio when they’d started seeing each other that he wouldn’t do things that would actively endanger his life (Aventurine defines most of his hacking contracts as passively endangering his life), and attempting to break into someone’s computer in person almost definitely counts as actively endangering his life. Still, he decides to look at the guest list anyway, out of some sort of morbid curiosity. He wants to know who Silver Wolf thinks he hates so much that he’d be willing to risk his life and his relationship for it.
His eyes scan the guest list, looking for some corporate overlord or morally bankrupt socialite, before they eventually land on the Distinguished Guests section of the list and he sighs in defeat.
Dr. Veritas Ratio, Distinguished Member of the Intelligentsia Guild and Professor at Veritas Prime University.
Maybe Silver Wolf has a point.
Aventurine reluctantly opens up his secure messaging channel with Silver Wolf and finds that she’s already sent him the terms of the contract. He hates the fact that she was right, and part of him considers turning it down out of pure spite, but he hates the idea of missing out on the opportunity to see his boyfriend in a fancy outfit even more.
The actual computer is located somewhere near the kitchens in the building the event is being hosted in; Silver Wolf has very helpfully included a map with a red circle and several arrows on it. Aventurine isn’t entirely sure that they’re in the right spot, but he appreciates the thought.
He sighs, tabbing out of the secure messaging channel, and opens an online shopping site that sells formal wear. He’s going to need a suit.
♡
The event, as it turns out, is a masquerade ball hosted on a planet called Verona II. It’s some charity benefit recognizing the work of various philanthropists and scientists, something for rich people who don’t do anything with their lives to throw money at people who actually do. Ratio probably despises it.
Aventurine been purposefully vague about what he was doing today, mentioning a contract but not elaborating much further. Ratio had mentioned this event briefly the last time they’d spoken via video call, seeming annoyed with the fact that he’d even been invited—but of course, Aventurine had pushed him to go. He deserved the recognition, he said, and it was one night. Take advantage of the free food and the chance to get dressed up nice, he said. Anything he could to make sure his Veritas actually showed up to the damn thing, because if Aventurine went through all this work and Ratio didn’t even come—
Well. It’ll be the last time he lets Silver Wolf talk him into anything, that’s for sure.
Aventurine dons his custom, peacock-themed mask that complements his new teal suit perfectly, and arrives on Verona II dressed to the nines. He has a false identity that he was able to add to the guest list easily enough, claiming to be some liaison to the IPC with connections to the space station gravitational regulator industry. He takes a moment to adjust his suit, making sure that it’s extra fitted around his waist so no one tries to actually ask him about gravitational regulators.
The ballroom that the masquerade is being held in is beautiful, all crystal chandeliers and sparkling decorations, champagne and tiny appetizers, meaningless polite conversation and networking. Aventurine thinks that in another life, he might have liked events like these. Might have felt more at home in the suit that rubs uncomfortably against his wrists, might have been a little better at laughing at some executive’s terrible joke, might have been able to stomach the food a little more. Or maybe he would have just been better at pretending he fit in with this life. Even in another world, Aventurine would still be the same Avgin orphan; maybe his suits would have always hung a little loose, no matter how good he got at pretending he was comfortable in them.
He tries not to dwell on it. It’s really not that important. Aventurine likes his life as a hacker, he really does, and the addition of Ratio to his life has only made him happier. And despite all of his many imaginings of what his life might have been like had it gone a different way, he can’t fault the reality he lives in, because it brought him Ratio.
(If he ever says that out loud, he hopes Silver Wolf takes him out back and shoots him.)
It doesn’t make it less stifling to mingle with these people. His only comforts are the fact that he knows he can leave as soon as he finishes the contract and that his boyfriend is here somewhere, and that’s what keeps him smiling even as the evening drags on.
Eventually he spots a flash of indigo hair through the crowd and excuses himself from whatever conversation he was having, weaving through the socialites and CEOs until his hand is on the arm of a brilliant navy blue suit and he’s looking up at a man wearing an owl mask. “Hi,” Aventurine says, his first genuine smile of the evening spreading across his face. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You’re Dr. Ratio, aren’t you?”
He watches as confusion slowly gives way to realization on Ratio’s face, and the corners of his normally harsh eyes soften. Even the mask can’t hide the exasperated fondness that etches itself into his Veritas’ face when he sees Aventurine, and that makes him feel some kind of warm and fuzzy inside.
“I don’t believe we have,” he replies smoothly. “What’s your name?”
It takes Aventurine a moment too long to respond, too focused on admiring the way Ratio looks in his suit to realize he’s being spoken to. “Ah, apologies. The craftsmanship on your mask really is something. My name is Romeo.”
(There’s a story he read once, something that Silver Wolf had brought back with her from a mission involving the Astral Express. Aventurine had been recovering from some stupid cold, so she’d given him a copy of this collection of literature from some distant planet that he wasn’t even entirely sure still existed. One of the stories was about people who fell in love despite being on opposite sides of a harsh divide. He didn’t like the ending, but he kept using the name anyway.
Aventurine wonders, sometimes, if planets like Verona II came first, or if this story set in a town called Verona did. Not often, but it goes hand in hand with his thoughts about other lives, other worlds.
Maybe it’s the ballroom setting, but he keeps finding these things on his mind tonight. Call him a romantic, but Aventurine wonders—if he lived in a world where Verona was a town and not a planet, would he still have found Ratio?)
“Is it now,” Ratio replies, somewhat dryly. His familiar tone drags him out of his thoughts, and Aventurine can’t help but chuckle. “Well, what do you do, Romeo? Are you here to give money or to beg for it?”
“Beg for it,” he answers, cheeky smile sliding into place. “I work in gravitational systems. I was hoping to catch the eye of Madam Herta, but it seems she declined her invitation.”
Ratio huffs, shaking his head. “You’re delusional if you think she’d give you the time of day.”
“I’ve been told I’m fairly charming.” Aventurine tilts his head at Ratio. “You don’t think so?”
There’s a brief pause as Ratio looks Aventurine over, and the soft smile that settles on his face makes Aventurine’s heart flutter slightly. Maybe the romance of the setting is getting to him. “I think you could be.”
He asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” as he’s already tugging Ratio away from the center of the ballroom and towards the kitchens. “Come on, Dr. Ratio. I’d like to ask you a few questions in private.”
Ratio follows, of course, and as soon as they’re out of eyesight of the ballroom Aventurine wraps his arms around his Veritas’ neck and kisses him. It’s been weeks since they last saw each other in person, and video calls aren’t ever enough, not really. When they break apart, Aventurine reaches up and takes the owl mask off of Ratio’s face, smiling like an idiot. “Hey there, gorgeous. I thought it might be you, but I can never really tell with these masks.”
“Ha ha.” Ratio hooks a finger under Aventurine’s mask and pulls it off as well. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you. I’m a specialist in gravitational systems,” he says. “Which is to say, I know that gravity is a thing, and also I can hack into a lot of systems.”
“Impeccable cover story as always. Is that camera over there already taken out?” Ratio asks, and goddess, Aventurine loves it when he endorses his illegal activities.
He grins, pressing another kiss to Ratio’s lips. “It’s been looping the same footage since I saw you across the ballroom. You’d be surprised how many people here are on their phones all the time. Nobody even cared when I took mine out.”
“I’m sure they would have cared if they’d seen that you were attempting to disable their security systems.” Ratio settles one hand on Aventurine’s waist. “Why are you here?”
Aventurine pouts a little. “Are you not excited to see me?”
“I—that is not what I said,” he sputters. “I merely asked why you came to this event.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see my boyfriend.” He plays with one of the cufflinks on Ratio’s suit, smiling to himself. “Or maybe I have a contract for some of the information being stored in the server room here by our gracious hosts for the evening, whoever they are.”
“I thought we agreed on less risky contracts?” Ratio looks a little exasperated, but Aventurine is sort of used to that. “You could have—”
He scoffs, “Please, no one is paying attention to us. Half the ballroom is drunk and the other half is trying to extort the drunk half for money. And for the record, I wasn’t going to take the contract, but I saw that the guest list included one Dr. Veritas Ratio, and you know how much I love a man in a lab coat.”
“I’m not even wearing a lab coat,” Ratio mutters, which is kind of adorable. “Fine. Where’s the server room?”
“Ah, can’t that wait?” Aventurine presses another kiss to his lips, then his jawline, then his neck, before murmuring, “Once I get the information, I have to leave. Their systems are bad, but they’re not that bad. Alarms will get tripped. I spent so much money on this suit, Veritas, can’t I have fifteen more minutes in it?”
The unspoken question—can’t we just stay here for a little longer—hangs heavy in the air between them, and eventually Ratio falters. “We can stay here,” he says softly. “You do look stunning in that suit, for what it’s worth.”
A lot of people have said that to Aventurine tonight. Coming from the one person he wanted to see, it’s worth a whole lot. “Thanks,” he replies, resting his head against the crook of Ratio’s neck as his face flushes. “You look good too.”
When he’d dragged Ratio over here, Aventurine had thought that they’d maybe have time for a quick fuck or something, a makeout session at the very least. Now that he’s here, they probably do have time, but he doesn’t really… want to. They rarely have time for sex, since they spend so much time apart, but they also rarely have time for this kind of intimacy either. Aventurine kisses Ratio’s neck again and pulls him closer. “It’s good to see you,” he says quietly. “I only took this contract because I knew you’d be here, and I missed you. Isn’t that sappy?”
Ratio chuckles, his breath warm against the top of Aventurine’s head. “It is. That’s not a bad thing, though. I missed you as well, Kakavasha.”
“Is it stupid that we’re both wearing suits that cost more than I’m getting paid for this contract and all I really want to do is cuddle you right now?” he asks, a little breathless.
“No. I don’t think so.” Ratio presses a kiss to Aventurine’s forehead and wraps his arms around him. “I’m glad you came.”
He moves his head down and sighs against Ratio’s chest, and thinks again about the story from that obsolete planet Silver Wolf had given him. He thinks, maybe, that there is something more than being willing to die for someone, and it’s whatever this is. Whatever it is that buried itself in his chest and tells him to take a contract just because he gets to hug his Veritas, whatever it is that makes him cling tighter even though he normally hates hugs. It’s whatever sour feeling curls in his chest when his alarm goes off and Aventurine has to say, “That’s the timer on the security footage. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Ratio hides his disappointment well. “Will I see you again soon?”
“We can video call when I get back to Punklorde,” he says, even though they both know it’s not the same. He sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Right. Stay safe, Aventurine.” Ratio pulls him in for one last kiss, lingering for just a moment. “I love you.”
Aventurine’s heart melts, and he considers just letting himself get caught in order to spend a few more minutes with Ratio. “I love you too,” he says. “Hey, if anyone asks, I was never here.”
“Of course.” Ratio’s tiny, sad smile is enough to break his already weak heart. “Best of luck.”