Chapter Text
“... ine. … safe … awake … to me. Aventurine, if you can hear me, we’re both safe. If you’re awake, don’t move. Listen to me, Aventurine …”
A steady, familiar voice filters into Aventurine’s consciousness in a repeating, unending stream of reassurances. Even before he has the presence of mind to comprehend the words, Ratio’s voice is so calm and soothing that he eases into wakefulness with a slow, heavy exhale.
Crisp, clean sheets surround Aventurine. He is lying on his stomach, head turned so his cheek is pressed against a pillow that smells of warm sunlight and their home. His body feels so heavy and his head so full of cotton that he feels like he’s sinking into the bed, or perhaps drifting through the ocean -
Everything aches. Low, throbbing pain crawls through Aventurine’s body as he comes to consciousness and his breath hitches. It’s as if his bones pulse with every beat of his heart, especially from his wings.
His wings. The fall - Ratio -
Panic deafens Aventurine as he flinches and tries to get up, immediately whimpering as the movement sends pain lancing through him. His wings, his back, his leg - everything hurts from the inside out. When he shifts, the throbbing sharpens to stabbing, as if something with jagged edges rakes through him.
What feels like minutes is only a second, dragged out by roiling pain and a throbbing, spinning head. Aventurine’s stomach churns and his vision is filled with static and only when a familiar, gentle hand brushes against his face and tucks his hair behind his ear does he stop moving. His head spins and the room spins around him, but Ratio’s voice cuts through the dizziness.
“Don’t move. Aventurine, focus on my voice. We’re safe. We’re home.”
“Ratio?” Aventurine’s voice comes out hoarse and breathy, and only then does he manage to blink the blurriness from his eyes and see Ratio hovering beside him, half leaning on the bed. His laurel hairpin is missing, his hair is mussed, he looks absolutely exhausted - but he is alive, and his dawn eyes are as bright as ever.
But Ratio is covered in bandages.
“You’re hurt -” Aventurine speaks too quickly and instinctively lifts his head but wheezes when the motion knocks the wind out of him and forces him to collapse into the pillow again. It reignites the pain that was starting to settle and fiery sensation races through his bones and muscles like a wildfire.
Ratio sighs and gently raps his head with a knuckle in reproach.
“You fool,” Ratio says, but his tone is so soft and almost fragile that it sounds like his voice might break. “These are nothing but superficial wounds, whereas you … Your injuries from your stupid, idiotic risk - I can’t believe you. Why would you do something like that? Do you know how much I … I never wanted -”
“Ratio.” Aventurine barely whispers his name, but Ratio cuts himself off immediately and leans in closer, as if chasing Aventurine’s voice. Aventurine raises a hand weakly towards him, strength faltering midway. It hurts to move. The pull of the motion sets Aventurine’s arm and chest and shoulder on fire.
But Aventurine presses through the relentless pulses of pain anyway, just barely keeping his expression from twisting into a grimace, and refuses to let his arm drop. As if reading his intent, Ratio presses Aventurine’s palm against his cheek, holding it in place with both hands, tilting his head into the touch. When Ratio exhales, his breath shudders and his hands tremble almost imperceptibly.
“You said it,” Aventurine breathes out, basking in the warmth of Ratio against his palm and the tickle of Ratio’s breath against his skin. Aventurine smiles at Ratio, wholly content despite the incessant throbbing and dull pain radiating through his entire body. “We’re both safe. We’re home. I’m so -” Aventurine’s words get caught in his throat as he chokes up, Ratio blurring in front of him from gathering tears, but he pushes on anyway. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you,” Ratio says, just as softly. He closes his eyes and turns his head slightly, pressing his lips against Aventurine’s palm in a delicate kiss. The way Ratio’s brow is pulled together and the faintest hint of a glimmer of wetness clings to his lashes shows just how affected he was.
“Talk to me,” Aventurine says eventually, gently and weakly rubbing his thumb over the rise of Ratio’s cheek. Each and every movement pulls his muscles and they protest with new aches. “Tell me what happened. Are my wings …”
Ratio lets out a little exhale against the sensitive skin of Aventurine’s palm, and then opens his eyes. He waits a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and when he speaks again his voice takes on that professional tone. From the way it wavers slightly, though, Aventurine can tell Ratio is forcing it.
“You have multiple bone injuries ranging from clean breaks to hairline fractures. The damage is extensive, but not irreparably so. I used what medical devices I had on hand to set the bones and accelerate healing, but they must be kept in splints for the time being. As you know, I have not had an opportunity to gain a full understanding of your anatomy.” Ratio says this without blame or judgment, and Aventurine just smiles; even now, he’s keeping Aventurine’s secrets. He didn’t take the opportunity to examine him, nor did he let anyone else treat Aventurine. “But I did consult medical texts regarding similar avian-featured species and I could extrapolate enough to be sure the bones are set properly.”
He is rambling. When Aventurine glances to the side, he sees stacks of books that Ratio must have brought into their bedroom - medical texts and anatomical diagrams, even culture and history books from far off planets. The sheer number and variety is a tangible sign of Ratio’s dedication to caring for him - who else would have books on anatomical reference for species ranging from Wingweavers to Halovians to Zatzkas, and on non-Aeonic energy theory besides? Just how long was Ratio collecting those?
“The hard-light splints will keep your wings immobile, but you’ll have to keep them out for the duration. Do be mindful of your wingspan.” The corner of Ratio’s lips quirk into a little smile, and Aventurine laughs. It sends a new wave of throbbing pain through his chest, but it’s worth it for the way Ratio’s gaze softens at the sound.
Ratio is silent for a long moment, then sits up, hands clasped around Aventurine’s, and looks him in the eyes. He seems to be thinking about something, and it’s that same look he gets when he carefully calculates what he wants to say. “Additionally, as you know, aside from the injuries you sustained, your main ailment is the atrophy of muscles necessary for flight. Keeping your wings out during your recovery will be uncomfortable but … and only if you would like … I could help you regain the proper strength. So that once you’re fully healed, you could, potentially, fly again.”
Aventurine, too, falls quiet as he takes in the words. Ratio doesn’t prompt him again; he only waits, ever patient, and keeps Aventurine’s hand in his grasp. The warmth of his hands permeates Aventurine’s, and the dizziness is beginning to subside, as if Ratio’s mere presence is anchoring him.
It should be out of the question. Any time his wings are exposed, it’s a risk - he doesn’t need more targets painted on his back that he can’t spin to his favor. It should be out of the question, because Aventurine had resigned himself to never letting anyone see his wings, to taking this secret to the grave, keeping it as just one thing only he knows.
“Okay,” Aventurine says, eventually. He barely breathes out the word. It should be out of the question.
But it isn’t, because it’s Ratio.
Ratio, whose eyes widen unconsciously, bright gold and red catching the morning light and shimmering with something that looks almost enchanted, as if he can’t believe Aventurine agreed. Ratio, whose gaze remains on Aventurine’s face, and whose hands tighten slightly around his. Ratio, who gets this same look of wonder every time Aventurine lets him see another facet of himself behind his masks, every time Aventurine offers him another secret.
Aventurine almost laughs when Ratio catches himself and tries to school his expression back to seriousness. “You have to keep that promise to help me, though,” Aventurine says in a rush to fill the silence, before Ratio can say anything with that awestruck look on his face. Aventurine’s cheeks feel hot under Ratio’s unabashed attention. He hesitates, tension coiling in his chest, before speaking again. “I haven’t … I managed to fly once, when I was a child.” Aventurine falters, unsure, but Ratio just nods encouragingly.
“If you want to tell me, I want to hear it,” Ratio says softly. There is that natural curiosity in his tone, of course, but also a gentleness reserved only for Aventurine - the quiet, unspoken reassurance that however much Aventurine is willing to tell him is more than enough, and that if Aventurine isn’t ready to say anything at all, it won’t change the weight of his affection.
Aventurine takes a shaky inhale and has to glance away, looking at their hands instead of Ratio’s face. “It was only once. I was always told to keep them hidden, but one day I climbed a rocky ledge and fell off at the top. It was instinctual, but for just a minute or so … I was flying. It was like nothing else.” Aventurine speaks slowly and softly, almost talking into the pillow, as he dredges up that old memory he’s kept in the back of his mind. He tries not to take it out too often - he doesn’t want to miss that feeling so much that he’s tempted to try again, but also … “I never took them out again after that. But when I was … Sometimes I would think about it. When I needed to remember something that no one could take from me.”
Aventurine’s voice tapers off with his confession and he looks away, ears burning, but Ratio just squeezes his hand and stands up to lean forward and press a kiss to Aventurine’s head. “No one will take anything from you ever again,” he says with such conviction that Aventurine nearly laughs. No one can know that, but Ratio sounds utterly convinced, as if he will personally make it so. Perhaps he will. “Whatever you decide to do, you have my full support. If you want to fly again, it will happen. If you never want to reveal your wings after this, I will guard your secret.”
Ratio pauses, letting his words sink in, before he gets that little frown that he has when he has something he wants to say but is trying to say it less bluntly than normal. Aventurine doesn’t comment on it, but seeing the always-composed doctor hesitating, looking just as uncertain as Aventurine feels, loosens the knot of anxiety in his chest.
“But I hope …” Ratio starts, then falters. He sits back down at Aventurine’s bedside and reaches out to brush Aventurine’s bangs away from his eyes, silently asking for his full attention. Aventurine obliges, only to be met with a look of utter sincerity. “If it’s selfish of me to say, disregard it. But I hope that if you have even the slightest desire, you embrace that memory. And then, we’ll make new ones - when you’ve healed and regained your strength, we can find a wide open place with privacy, you can -”
“Ratio, Ratio,” Aventurine interrupts Ratio’s rambling with a laugh, and Ratio falls quiet, flushing slightly in embarrassment. “You don’t have to keep trying to convince me. I said I would, and you’ll help me. Right?”
“Naturally.” Ratio’s response is immediate, and he laughs softly, too. Aventurine squeezes Ratio’s hand weakly, and when he does, Ratio’s expression relaxes. “You’ll have to follow my instructions to recover, first,” Ratio says a moment later, taking on his medical doctor tone that he loves to pull out on Aventurine to get him to do pesky things like eat dinner. Aventurine huffs out an overly dramatic sigh, and Ratio just stands up, squeezing Aventurine’s hand back before easing his hand down and letting go.
Ratio pulls out his chalk stylus and Aventurine feels the pulse of Imaginary energy as he imbues the light it creates with the energy so that it remains solid. He carefully lifts one of Aventurine’s wings from where it’s spread across the wide bed and adds to the complicated-looking interwoven hard-light splint that he’s made. Aventurine holds back a hiss when the movement jostles him and sends new waves of pain through him. Ratio’s fingers run along the feathers soothingly, his touch light enough that it doesn’t move the wing but still gives Aventurine a comforting sensation to latch onto.
As before, Ratio strokes the plumage with a gentle, steady rhythm. Every pass of his fingers over the feathers, every time he so carefully fixes how they lay, and every time he smooths them over draws Aventurine further into relaxation and away from the pulsing aches radiating from his bones and muscles.
“If you’re wondering, I patched us both up at home,” Ratio says quietly as he continues to work. Aventurine had figured that much out, but it's nice to listen to Ratio talk. Appreciation swells in his chest at Ratio's openness and insistence on being completely transparent with Aventurine. “For our more severe injuries, I did need some mechanical assistance - Topaz took over the aftermath and delivered several medical devices to me, though I didn’t allow her to see you. She seemed to understand that there was some kind of circumstance and didn’t ask further, but she did send her well-wishes. She also said that she will, and I quote, ‘wrap this problem up for you to deal with when you’re better, however you want it to end.’”
“Mmm, I’ll have to send her a gift basket or something,” Aventurine says, feeling drained of strength. Ratio was right - having his wings out for so long is uncomfortable. Besides the bone injuries, the muscles through them and in his back and chest all feel strained and ache terribly, likely from disuse. “You said you just had superficial injuries?”
“Yes, merely some scrapes, sprains, and bruises,” Ratio says, gingerly setting Aventurine’s wing down and then moving around to the other side. He says that, but he’s covered in bandages. It looks like it was a lot of scrapes - not to mention that he looks exhausted. If he’s been reapplying the Imaginary energy-infused hard-light splints to Aventurine, then - “Your Stoneheart powers shielded us from almost all of the damage we would have otherwise sustained.”
Although Aventurine can’t see Ratio from this angle, he hears that quiet, almost fragile tone return to his voice as he carefully works on Aventurine’s other wing. His light, soothing touch returns to the feathers there, too. Now that his wings are being held still by Ratio’s splints and he’s resting, the sharpness of Aventurine’s pain has dulled and not every movement sends it shooting through him quite so strongly. Ratio falls quiet for a while, and Aventurine gets the feeling he’s thinking - but then again, when is he not?
“Although it was foolhardy,” Ratio says eventually, shifting slightly behind Aventurine and running his fingers along the feathers closer to Aventurine’s shoulder blade, “thank you. You … I didn’t want you to come after me, you know.”
“I know,” Aventurine breathes out, his voice too soft but he pushes on anyway, trying to keep himself from choking up. “But I just couldn’t let you die. You said nothing else would be taken from me - well, Doc, the only thing that I don’t want taken from me is you.” He laughs, but it comes out sounding wet.
“Let me finish,” Ratio says softly. He stops working on the splint and walks back around to where Aventurine can see him, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. This close to Ratio’s dawn-colored eyes, Aventurine can see how he lets all of his emotions bubble up to the surface - sincerity, gratitude, and, most of all, an achingly deep affection.
“In the end, I’m glad you did, if it meant our time together did not end,” Ratio whispers in the scant space between them. His breath ghosts over Aventurine’s face, his presence warm and familiar. “Even if the aftermath … Even if you didn’t wake up for far too long, all that matters is that you’re safe now.” Aventurine can see the flicker of fear in Ratio’s eyes when he falters, and he can imagine it - when he hit the ground, did his Stoneheart form fade and leave Ratio lying against his limp body? Were his wings splayed beneath him, bent at unnatural angles, soiled with dirt and blood covering the peacock-patterned gold? Did Ratio struggle to get them both off-planet alone?
Before Aventurine can ask, Ratio speaks again. “Thank you, Aventurine,” he says, so earnestly it catches Aventurine off guard. When he startles, Ratio just smiles - not one of the half-smiles he often wears because he’s holding back, but an open, sincere smile that feels as if he’s trying to fully convey the depth of his emotions to Aventurine. “Not just for saving my life, but for waking up again. For sharing your secrets with me - back at the laboratory and now.”
“What’s with that?” Aventurine asks, and when he laughs, it comes out choked. Ratio chuckles and cups his cheek, brushing the gathering tears away with his thumb. “If anyone should be saying thank you, it’s me. You’ve been awake and tending to both of our wounds for how long?”
“Until I was sure you would be alright,” Ratio says, and maybe the exhaustion is making him more straightforward.
“I am, now,” Aventurine says, and he grins as if he’s the luckiest person in the universe - because as much as he’s struggled with the thought before, in this moment, he feels lucky in the best way he’s ever felt it.
Aventurine lifts his head slowly, trying to tilt up without aggravating his injuries again, and Ratio meets him halfway. Their kiss is long and sweet and slow, chaste but heavy with emotion. Their lips press together and Aventurine’s thoughts and aches fade as he immerses himself in the feeling of Ratio against him, alive and warm and so, so true to his word, always. When Ratio says nothing will be taken from Aventurine, when Ratio says no one else will know of Aventurine’s secrets, when he says he will always be right there, Aventurine knows he means it.
When they part for breath, Aventurine laughs. “I have to say that you look absolutely exhausted. Who’s always telling me to get regular rest?”
Ratio sighs, but the sound is far too fond to be anything close to exasperation. “That’s different, and you know it.”
“Come up and sleep with me,” Aventurine says. He would try to pull Ratio down himself, but his limbs feel heavy and he feels drained from just their conversation. That, and he’s still feeling the deep comfort from how gently Ratio stroked his feathers.
Ratio frowns, pausing as if thinking about it, then shakes his head. “I just reapplied the splints - you shouldn’t move around.”
“Oh my, Doctor, how forward!” Aventurine is grinning before he’s even gotten the tease out, and Ratio is already making a noise like he’s biting back a sigh. “Well, if you’re in the mood, I’m sure we could figure something out …”
“Don’t be purposefully obtuse,” Ratio says, and he must be really tired, because there’s very little heat in it - irritation or otherwise. “Your wings take up the entire bed. It’s better for you to rest here - I’ll take a nap on the sofa.”
“And deprive me of you? Just slide in under one of them. It’s fine.”
Although Aventurine’s tone is light, Ratio sees right through him, as usual. There is nothing more that Aventurine wants in this moment than to be in Ratio’s embrace, to rest beside him knowing that he’s right there. He knows Ratio feels the same, if the way he lingers is any indication. He can practically see Ratio weighing the decision medically.
A moment later, Ratio sighs and leans back, ever-so-carefully sending a new wave of Imaginary energy through the hard-light splint to keep Aventurine’s wing completely immobile while he slowly lies down beneath it. Aventurine holds back a wince when his wing rests over Ratio - but the momentary pain is more than worth the way Ratio’s arm wraps around his waist and the way he’s so warm beside Aventurine.
“See?” Aventurine says, feeling contentment settle over him when Ratio leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead before tucking Aventurine’s head under his chin. “Not so hard, hm? And I get to be a blanket.”
“Yes, you were right,” Ratio says, sounding almost indulgent but undeniably fond. Aventurine feels his voice as much as he hears it, and the familiar comfort of it soothes any lingering worries. “You need your rest to recover. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“So will I,” Aventurine breathes out, feeling himself sinking closer to falling into a peaceful sleep.
Aventurine smiles and snuggles closer to Ratio, feeling content and cared for. Ratio is always so bright and warm - almost like a sun, but one that’s right here in his arms. Whatever else lies in wait for them when they wake up they will deal with together.