Chapter Text
A week before that disastrous mission, Ratio invited the gambler to his house after the man made a spontaneous visit to his office, as he was more in the mood to spend the evening in a place enveloped in his scent rather than his office. On that day, the doctor had been more abrasive than usual, having a lower tolerance for foolishness. Despite that, his mood improved drastically upon seeing that familiar hat perched upon a familiar silhouette. When he asked why Aventurine brought the cat cakes with him, he replied that he’d taken them for a walk to see if they would enjoy it.
At his invitation, a brief surprise flitted across Aventurine’s expression, smoothing out into a charming smile, an expression that Veritas knew was becoming more genuine over time.
It only took them twenty minutes to travel there, most of the time passing quickly due to Ratio’s silent relief that he was not overly forward with Aventurine, the closest peer he had. But there was also a festering, foolish worry that Aventurine would not like his scent — the moment they walked through that door, he would smell Ratio’s scent which would announce that he was an omega. His secondary gender had never been a secret, but whenever the topic came about in the odd work party or conference, the participants would all stare at him in shock before awkwardly pursuing other conversation topics.
And Ratio detested the vulnerability that came with sharing his scent and emotions for anyone to pick up on.
Those worries were ultimately for nothing, as Aventurine gave little reaction apart from a deeper breath that Ratio only caught as he was focused on his every move. The dilation of Aventurine’s pupils may have simply been caused by the unlit doorway and did not necessarily mean that the gambler felt any attraction to his scent. There was a flicker of disappointment at the thought. Under the scent patches Ratio always wore in public, his glands itched, as if they wanted to diffuse his scent into the air.
As Rato stepped into the hallway, gesturing to Aventurine to leave his dark green coat on the hook, he felt his shoulders loosen, the tension he'd been unknowingly carrying all day leaving at the sight of his home and lingering scent of himself. Ah, he'd been spending too much time away from his nest, and he told himself that he must not ignore his aggressive nesting instincts for the next couple of days.
After brewing them both chamomile tea (for both of their benefits), the gambler and the doctor sat in his living room, Aventurine releasing the little cat cakes after the host’s agreement, one from the trio darting to Ratio’s chair, giving a sharp wail when Ratio did not immediately pick her up. As Ratio was developing no small degree of fondness for annoying beings that demanded his attention, he caved in all too easily, idly musing whether the cats picked up their owner’s overly dramatic tendencies.
Grasping the closet one by its belly, Ratio placed her on his lap. Poker gave a small, happy mrow and then closed her eyes.
“You needy little thing,” Ratio teased softly as he petted Poker on the back and failed to notice the pitiful longing that flashed across Aventurine’s face, making him look like a neglected hamster.
After a sip of tea that the doctor had so kindly given him, the gambler commented, “They were such little gremlins last night, you know, all three of them were wailing for you. So I diagnosed them with a lack of their favourite doctor’s love and care, and brought them to you for treatment.”
Aventurine’s gaze was far too intense for the amused curve of his lips, and Ratio honed in on that strange dissonance.
“Well,” Ratio replied coyly, “it seems that I have to remind them that there is no need for them to wait for their symptoms to worsen — they can visit me whenever they would like to.”
He looked down at Poker, now weaving her tail around his arm, instead of looking at Aventurine and meeting that predatory stare. His scent patches itched incessantly against his neck. Steadying Poker with his left arm, his right hand started to peel them off.
“Do you mind?” Ratio asked, despite his scent slowly diffusing through the air. It was only common courtesy.
He picked up the blanket by the side of his chair and brought it to his neck, a soft sigh of relief escaping him.
“My apologies, I suppose that I've been neglecting my nesting instincts by staying in the office later recently.”
At Aventurine’s strained laugh, Ratio finally looked up.
His face was blushing the doctor was quite shocked to realise, as Aventurine was a master in hiding his emotions. Was Ratio’s scent truly so shocking to the senses that even Aventurine’s mask slipped up? A wave of embarrassment swept over him, and he scented the cloth even harder. The trio of cats blinked up at him, then judgingly at their owner.
“Your scent — it's lovely,” Aventurine blurted out, then froze awkwardly. Ratio watched in fascination then amusement. For Aventurine, it was truly quite good that Ratio did not care too much about the social faux pas and took no offence at the comment.
“Is that so?” Ratio said, with only the faintest bite of bitterness, “I've been told it does not suit me.”
Led by Aventurine’s efforts, the conversation eventually drifted back to less vulnerable topics, which Ratio greatly appreciated. One thoroughly scented blanket later, his nesting instincts had finally subsided and he turned his attention back to Aventurine, his gestures as he talked smooth and satisfying to study. Ratio was glad that Aventurine’s smile was no longer so forced these days. In a purely doctorly way, of course. But to be frank, who wouldn't feel contentment at seeing such a man smile more in your presence?
But speaking of body language, the doctor just couldn't help but notice that the gambler’s remarkably striking hands kept drifting to his neck, only to stagger as he noticed that unconscious habit and played the motion off in a way that would seem natural to anyone else but Ratio.
“Gambler,” Ratio began, “is there anything wrong with your neck?”
To anyone else, Aventurine would seem perfectly fine. The doctor, however, could tell that he was thinking of two options: lie and play the fool (which would subsequently infuriate Ratio) or tell the truth (which was often akin to pulling teeth). To appear unaffected and not to pressure Aventurine, Ratio took a sip of his lukewarm tea and carefully did not indicate any disgust whatsoever as Aventurine dithered.
Letting out an overly dramatic gust of a sigh, Aventurine confessed, “It's nothing, doc, my scent glands were just itching a bit.”
“If it would help, you may take off your patches. I do not mind.”
Vulnerability flashed in Aventurine’s eyes, then in the slight furrow of his brows and tightening of his lips. He hesitated, then considered Ratio’s proposal like a python would size up potential prey. Ratio waited, shutting away his aching curiosity of Aventurine's scent.
Faux-nonchalant, Aventurine took a swig of tea as if it were a shot of alcohol, then peeled off the scent patches. Ratio kept his mien cool and unaffected, only to remember that there was a chance that Aventurine already noticed his interest.
Aventurine fiddled with the lucky coin he took out of his pocket, twisting it over and then under his adorned fingers. “Doc,” he staggered under the weight of something, a moment of hesitation before he continued, smooth as sandpaper, “if it's you… I don't mind. My scent has been weak since the day I presented, and some IPC medics told me years ago there was nothing they could do. I presented later than I should have, too, and so my pheromones failed to develop further.”
Ratio was not an expert on human pheromones, but he knew that there several causes of a weaker scent: potential symptoms of deadly illnesses, severe malnutrition during the developing years and/or persistent fear and anxiety during that stage, as the body would shut down their scent if the person subconsciously feared they needed to be hidden away from all possible threats. Ratio knew little about Aventurine’s developmental years beyond the distant explanation, but he suspected that the two latter reasons played a role.
“Doc, it almost looks like you have half a mind to confirm their diagnosis.” Aventurine teased halfheartedly.
“That would be a breach of patient-doctor confidentiality, as we are friends,” Ratio replied, taking note of Aventurine’s pleased, smug grin, then gave a light pet to the demanding fiend on his lap, who had pounced on his hand moments before. “Additionally, I am not an expert on the pheromonal system.”
But his enduring pursuit for knowledge was now sparked; Ratio wanted to know exactly what Aventurine smelled like. Extrapolating from his past experiences, Ratio knew that there was a minute chance that he would even like Aventurine’s scent. Omegas were already known to be quite ‘picky’ with the pheromones of those around them, and Ratio certainly was not an outlier — he was even worse. As it was only a small problem, Ratio made do with wearing his plaster head in public so that he didn’t start an irrational fight over some rude alpha’s crowding pheromones.
Perhaps Aventurine's reckless gambling had rubbed off on the doctor. With a very improbable chance of winning this bet, he made the first move. But Ratio would have to be careful in his approach, as it was a sensitive topic that Aventurine trusted him with.
Well, there was no point in wasting time. He looked back at Aventurine, a half-knowing, half-goading smile playing on the corners of his mouth, threatening to grow until it bared teeth. The gambler tilted his head while holding that provocative stare, neck bared increment by increment, and the spark blazed.
“Gambler,” Ratio called out in a more muted tone, “I have a selfish proposal.”
Aventurine gave a gesture for him to carry on, the gold on his hands glinting. There was hunger in his eyes.
“I’d like to—” Ratio’s voice faltered under the weight of his deeply foreign desire, and he cleared his throat, “I am curious to know your scent.”
“Oh?” Aventurine said with surprise. They both knew he was lying. He sprawled further on the chaise lounge, resting his head on his hand as he looked victoriously towards Ratio. “Well, doc, you can have me as you like.” His free hand gestured to his lap, then beckoned Ratio closer.
It was very apt of Aventurine to give the illusion of a choice, only to control the cards in his favour. Ratio’s mouth was dry as he set poor Poker on the ground, who immediately shot off with her siblings out of the room. Despite his ability to work in high-stress environments, Ratio still felt a damning flusteredness rise as he began to straddle Aventurine’s lap, hands clutching at his sturdy shoulders until they found the chair’s armrests. He noticed the gambler’s lingering glance at his hands. In the position Ratio found himself in, he loomed over Aventurine, his chest on eye-level with Aventurine, yet he could not shake the feeling that it was the gambler who held all the cards in his hands. A shiver unexpectedly ran down his spine at that all too likely prospect. Ratio believed that there was something new to discover every single day, it just so happened that the doctor was certainly learning about his … preferences. Oh Aeons, Ratio thought, Why him, objectively one of the most incompatible persons in the universe to be with! And then: I care for him anyway.
His legs folded, weakening pitifully under his revelation, and rested his full weight on Aventurine and pushed his torso flush against Aventurine to find refuge in the space left for him. As his breath misted over the left scent gland, he felt Aventurine’s body and breathing stiffening.
“Aventurine?” Ratio called out.
A shaky breath, then Aventurine responded, voice husky and low, “Keep going, Ratio.”
As Ratio felt Aventurine’s body relax beneath him, he almost couldn’t believe that he was feeling almost every part of Aventurine, every rhythmic breath, the subtle movement of muscle as Aventurine shifted backwards, perhaps to give him more height so that Ratio would not have to stoop further. Ratio thought of what it would feel like if there were no barrier between them, if he could feel and satiate his sudden, new-found hunger by running his bare hands across Aventurine’s bare—
He pressed his nose into the welcoming scent gland and breathed.
The scent was tantalising. Aventurine had not lied when he said that his scent was weak, but the wisps Ratio managed to smell urged him to press deeper. It had layers to it: weak but deceptively strong, mysterious yet so forthcoming. He could smell his alpha pheromones, but they did not make him recoil in disgust nor irritate his nose. It was the perfect potency. He could barely remember any other scent now that he had such a desirable one in front of him. His parents’ scents slowly became suffocating and the scents of his peers would always rub him the wrong way, always far too abrasive for him. Ratio acted on instinct and impulse alone, opening his mouth to further arouse the scent glands until it filled up the dead air of his house, until it spilled over his nest, until he could fully luxuriate in his scent—
Those shameful, desperate wishes jolted him out of his previous state, and he jerked away as if ice-cold water had spilled on him. He sobered up, horror at his actions overcoming him. The instinctual tightening of Aventurine’s hands (when had they gone on his waist?) were the only things stopping him from tumbling out of the chair.
For the most wretchedly longest moment, they simply looked at each other. Ratio had never caught Aventurine off guard. It seemed that the only way Ratio could do so was to humiliate himself in the process.
“My apologies,” Ratio suddenly said, voice oddly breathless even to himself. “I wanted more of your scent…I forgot myself.” The words sprung forth awkwardly and with little thought. An unsettling observation for one who typically spoke with great consideration.
With his hands still resting on Ratio’s body (the audacity! Oh, he wanted Aventurine’s hands to never let go), the alpha let out a strained chuckle, saying, “Is that so? I'm glad, then.” His voice pitifully wavered in the middle, and Ratio was merciful (and admittedly guilty) enough to ignore that.
They bade farewell to each other after a few minutes, and that was that. The moment Aventurine left, Ratio felt the slightest whimper leave from his throat at the loss, body tingling up and down from the dissipating warmth. The puzzling desire, however, remained.
The next morning, Ratio woke up to a… sticky situation. Undercurrents of half-awakened lust coursed through him like a live wire, begging for release, hazy remnants of jewel-coloured eyes and ungloved hands and a provocative smile wielded like a weapon swimming in his head. He looked at the damning evidence (his dream’s visitor, the heat still pooling in his stomach, the dampness between his legs) and stared at his bedside mirror, revealing a very flushed face.
As one befitting of the name Veritas, the doctor loathed to lie, especially to himself. And so, with a lingering discomfort, he made an informal hypothesis: he was not as asexual as he once thought himself to be.
He turned the statement in his mind. Ratio knew that Aventurine was the only exception to quite the number of values and beliefs the doctor held everyone else to. After all, who else would he deceive another for and go out of his way to give an answer to if not the gambler? He thought of Penacony, the weeks of acting and staying by Aventurine’s side. Staying close to one person would lend itself to developing some degree of fondness — not that it worked for anyone other than Aventurine. Then, there was the note that he gave to Aventurine. At the time, he was too concerned for Aventurine delving into the Nihility to question why he had even given that information. After all, as a teacher, Ratio wanted his students to find the answers to their questions by themselves, albeit with any necessary guidance from himself. But not with Aventurine. Ratio wanted to help him, regardless of the barriers he constructed for everybody else.
He paused for a moment, taking a sip of water placed on the cabinet, the cool liquid striking against the turbulent heat of his body. And then there were the most recent exceptions: he genuinely enjoyed Aventurine’s scent and felt sexual desire towards him. And, perhaps even more strangely: he wanted to be closer to Aventurine emotionally, too. He recalled the identity of demisexuality and tentatively accepted it. The sexual attraction only began when he developed emotional closeness and he still had no interest in sex with other people.
As he was a thorough man when it came to the pursuit of knowledge and the discovery of oneself, he briefly considered whether he had a very, very specific type. Who else was filthy rich, mentally unstable, vaguely threatening, fashionable, used appearances as a shield, had striking eyes and light hair? At the mere thought of even touching Sunday or Sugilite, disgust immediately overtook him and extinguished the slowly burning lust that haunted him since the last evening.
Ratio pursed his lips. His list of traits was quite concerning, and then he realised that if his past self knew that he could feel desire for the man who held a gun to himself at their first meeting and spouted off about being the “final victor”, his past self would have been rendered speechless.
That line of thought made him recall other instances of Aventurine being what the kids may call a “red flag” or revealing his power. As Ratio had a suspicion that the gambler would be using the theme park for his final act, he had hidden a camera there so that he could monitor the situation and make sure that he “died” as safely as possible. Even from his location in Golden Hour, he still saw the distant gold of Aventurine of Strategem’s attacks and marvelled at the sheer power pouring from him. His voice had also changed, no longer silky smooth but almost abrasive instead, all pretenses of charm were stripped away. And that wasn’t even mentioning Ratio’s awe at seeing the Stoneheart’s alternative form.
Ah. It seemed that the desire had been stoked by those memories. He stared in horror at himself. As his students would say, he was down bad. Dragging a hand over his face, he mentally apologised to Aventurine for what he would do next. He grabbed the rarely-used vibrator from the lowest shelf of his bedside table and turned it to the second-highest setting.
As one befitting of the name Veritas, the doctor loathed to lie, especially to himself. And so, with a lingering discomfort, Veritas told himself that it was merely wishful thinking when he saw hunger-desire reflected in Aventurine’s lurid eyes. Accepting his newly burgeoning attraction to the gambler was one thing, deluding himself into believing it was reciprocated was another.
However, he had noticed that the source of his sexual crisis had been acting differently ever since Ratio scented him in his house. Unexpectedly, the gambler did not seem offended by Ratio’s forwardness, and he waved off any apologies with a fond laugh.
For one, Aventurine was touchier than he was before, often placing his hand between the omega's shoulder blades to guide him to a new place he wanted to visit. And when that steering was successful, Aventurine was insistent on foolishly spending his money on buying Ratio extravagant gifts, who always warmly rejected them as he appreciated the offer but found no point in overindulging in material items. Admittedly, Ratio did yearnfully look at the enticing bath salts, then successfully managed to not only reject Aventurine’s immediate offer of buying them but also persuade Aventurine to try them out in his stead.
Additionally, Aventurine’s behaviour could be read as, well, flirtatious. The night after he was convinced to buy the bath salts, the unintentionally aggravating man had sent him a photo. Nothing scandalous, merely a photo of Aventurine after taking a bath, his hair damp and mussed (since when did Ratio even find that attractive?) and wearing an ill-fitting bathrobe, as it bared most of Aventurine’s pale right shoulder. The photo was cropped right before the robe joined together, making one wonder how much of Aventurine’s chest was revealed beyond the image. The caption read: it was a pretty good bath, but maybe i need further guidance from my favourite professor on how to make it unforgettable
Flustered by the photo, Ratio spent 10 seconds on how to respond, eventually settling on I'm glad you enjoyed it then a few tips that Ratio personally used, such as not setting the temperature too high (not good for hydration levels and could irritate the skin) and, most importantly, adopting the proper mindset for a bath (such as taking the opportunity to properly relax instead of worrying over mundane matters).
Afterwards, Aventurine simply texted back: aww, i was hoping for a more hands on tutorial 3 how would i know the optimum bath temp without a thermometer
But goodnight doc! And thanks for the tips
After texting him goodnight, Ratio refused to live in denial for a second longer.
Increased physical contact, excessive flirting, and attempting to provide for him were all signs of an alpha courting someone, or at least signs of interest.
But Aventurine simply hadn't mentioned any interest in courting Ratio. Considering that Aventurine had knowledge of polite society's rules (and would often break them) Ratio assumed he would follow the courting conventions with a declaration of intent — nothing overly dramatic, merely an alpha stating their intentions.
Ratio was hesitant to question the gambler’s homeworld's culture despite there being very little valid information about Sigonia-IV in academic research. And when there were mentions of that desert planet, it was usually surface-level information. There was little mention of the Avgins. The only claims Ratio could recall about courting in Sigonia-IV was that planets with harsh environments generally placed greater importance on the alpha providing for the family, focusing on essentials such as providing shelter, food and protection. Even then, Sigonia-IV was lumped in with similar planets with little description as to how those planets specifically courted.
Ratio lightly sighed as he considered further explanations for the gambler’s recent behaviour.
Maybe it meant more to Veritas than it did to Aventurine, who could be quite flirtatious to even strangers when he wanted to. Regardless, he enjoyed that foolish gambler’s company and simply told himself, with decades-old discipline and restraint, that he would refuse to allow their fragile, burgeoning friendship to become disrupted by a simple crush. Whilst the logical solution would be for Ratio to approach Aventurine and simply ask why he had been behaving differently, Ratio, for once, did not want to do the sensible thing. The mere thought of confessing anything to anyone and showing even a hint of vulnerability made Ratio shudder internally.
Now Ratio had more empathy with one of his similarly anxious and infatuated students who would discreetly analyse their crush's texts in the middle of a seminar over and over again until she wondered if their crush even considered them friends (after a whole semester of accidentally eavesdropping, he learnt that she and her crush had known each other for a whole decade). He remembered that her long-suffering friend said: What do you mean you don’t know if Derek likes you? I swear on Nous THEMSELVES, you are emotionally denser than my grandma’s fruit cake, and that thing is so dense that it has its own gravitational pull!
As Ratio stared at the screenshot of his and Aventurine’s latest conversation, he realised that he, too, was emotionally denser than a fruit cake, which was incredibly embarrassing for someone of Ratio’s age.
He deleted the screenshot and vowed that he would get an answer out of Aventurine one way or another after they completed their next mission, which should be relatively simple. He considered the plan further. Aventurine would likely be more relaxed after their success and would be more forthcoming with the truth. An acceptable, simple plan. Nothing more would be needed — if he overthought the plan, it would come at the risk of procrastinating, and Ratio was done foolishly pining.
In Ratio’s professional opinion, the plan was fine, if a little overconfident. That flaw became apparent once the gunshots rang across the meeting room. (And that Ratio hadn’t completely planned out what would happen if Aventurine tried to evade giving him a straight answer apart from a mental series of question marks. As Ratio lectured to his students far too many times, one should not plan anything after 10 PM.)
Their mission was simple at face value, in which Aventurine would negotiate a business deal with a rather suspicious mercenary group that Jade apparently had her eye on. Ratio was mostly there for moral support (again) and to advise if necessary. Perhaps Jade wanted Aventurine to seem more powerful as part of a duo, and Ratio was chosen as he was the only one who could handle the gambler’s tactics. That thought amused him until he could tell that the group of five were suspicious for a valid reason. When they aimed a gun at them and fired, stopped by Aventurine’s shield protecting them both, neither of them was particularly caught off guard. The alpha holding him by the shoulder and pushing them together was unnecessary, but Ratio complimented his fast reflexes anyway.
He had far more important things to focus on, such as his desire to make them regret disrupting his barely planned out confession to his first source of romantic affection. While Ratio rarely engaged in battle as Aventurine held more martial prowess, this time he was fully out to maim them.
At a strike of chalk that would have made his most sleep-deprived students cry out for mercy, Aventurine gave a low, appreciative whistle. When the man crumpled to the floor in pain, the gambler let out a sadistic chuckle, and Ratio mentally stored that sound for future reference as he surveyed the area.
“Watch out!” Ratio called out to his partner at the sight of a gas canister. It was unlikely to be fatal as the mercenary group would be poisoning themselves, but it would be foolish to not be cautious, so they both controlled their breathing, Ratio summoning his plaster head to filter out the majority of the gas. Once he read the label on the canister, he almost started lecturing them for their poorly thought-out plan and lack of research. The colour, a dark purple that transformed into a brick red was the textbook description of the gas he suspected they used.
Like a villain from a children’s TV show, the leader cackled (Aventurine pulled off a villainous laugh far better than that foolish man ever could) and announced, “This is the legendary rut enhancer made by the Doctor Primitive, designed to make alphas go into their rut within minutes. Afterwards, we shall put you down like the dogs you are—”
The man could not finish his statement as Ratio already shot him with a tranquilizing dart. With their leader suddenly unconscious and their fear at an “alpha” somehow resisting the gas (Aventurine had, unsurprisingly, fallen to the ground but was conscious), the last three soldiers were dealt with easily.
Whilst keeping half an eye on the fallen opponents, Ratio sank down to his knees, clasping one of Aventurine’s hands that flexed before holding him even tighter. His breath caught at the unadulterated fear warping his face.
“I don’t want to lose myself around you,” Aventurine confessed miserably after a brief moment of hesitation, then he tried to pull away, refusing to even face him. Ratio’s heart pulled at him to soothe him, so he placed his hand by Aventurine’s jaw to encourage him to look at him.
When their eyes finally met, Ratio said, “I understand your fears, but those fools weren’t even aware that they purchased the far weaker version of that awful doctor’s serum. What will likely happen to you is that you enter your pre-rut within the next two hours, and that can be delayed further if I use this tranquilising dart on you with your consent. Afterwards, you will enter your rut and it should be the normal intensity and length for you. Aventurine, you will not lose yourself.”
Although his expression had calmed down, there was still a great anxiety that haunted his eyes. Taking a wild gamble, Ratio assured him, “and I have full faith that you will not harm me.”
Aventurine took a deep breath, eyes softening. “I trust you,” he said, “but I need you to tranquilise me. Please.”
Keeping his movements steady and predictable, Ratio shot him with the dart, holding his hand until his breaths fully smoothened into a deep sleep. Aventurine’s expression, however, was still troubled. Ratio pulled a stray piece of hair away from his face and then made all the necessary calls.
Firstly, he explained the situation to Jade then gave his professional opinion as a medical doctor that it would be best for Aventurine to recuperate in his home, rather than a hospital. Jade acquiesced easier than he had dared to hope, and felt some tension drain. He ordered an IPC ship to pick them up, and was thankful that the distance between their current location and Aventurine’s house was quite small.
Once he had placed Aventurine in his bedroom and stripped off his scent patches, as they would only irritate the delicate glands when he was experiencing his mating cycle, Ratio paced in the opulent but rarely used kitchen as he made a list of things he should prepare for Aventurine’s rut. Afterwards, he would leave as it would be incredibly inappropriate to do so.
Firstly, he needed to make sure that he was sufficiently hydrated during the cycle. After a swift look through the pantry, he saw several unused water bottles. A mere glass of water would simply not suffice but gathering multiple of them would get quite messy. Instead, he planned on placing the water bottles by Aventurine’s bedroom entrance, as it would be extremely foolish to encroach on a rutting alpha’s territory. As his instincts would guide him to patrol his house when he woke up, Aventurine would find it sooner or later.
Before Ratio handled the issue of food (Aventurine accidentally missed meals, and during a mating cycle it was imperative to eat well), he sought out the beloved cat cakes, which were easy to find due to them barging into the kitchen and crowding around his ankles in search of affection which he readily gave. After explaining the situation to the intelligent pets, he set up the automatic feeder Ratio once suggested Aventurine buy, as he was wont to spoil them with food, which all three of the cat cakes thoroughly abused and plied far too many treats from him daily.
The doctor shot a warning look when they made a protesting wail. “I would also suggest that you three keep an eye on Aventurine after two days. I can’t be there physically to help, but I can do this at least.” After a deep sigh, he added, “I’m very worried for him.”
After he took a moment to unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders, he made his way to the kitchen again, half-anticipating nothing but a wilting carrot in the fridge. He was quite surprised to see that Aventurine was making an effort to improve his eating habits, as there were several fresh vegetables and cooked meats in various Tupperware. He could make several meals for Aventurine, it seemed, and he was glad that Aventurine would be decently fed throughout his rut.
He eyed the pomegranates and figs lying on the second shelf. If he had known that Aventurine also enjoyed them, Ratio would have gifted Aventurine some.
He eyed the clock. Aventurine should still be under the effects of the tranquillizer for another six hours (and that was taking Aventurine’s hardy constitution into account), and Ratio would be long gone. Until then, Ratio would make some simple dishes to tide the alpha over.