Chapter Text
He remembers a hand in his hair and the sun bearing down on his wings. He remembers his momma telling him how pretty they are. He remembers his sister sitting behind him and telling him that his real wings are the brightest she's ever seen and that soon, they'll shed and that the new feathers will fill in. That it's going to hurt but tips will fill in with another color, and he'll be able to fly soon. He closes his eyes and imagines flying high with his Mom and his sister, winds rustling through his hair like Mama Fenge’s hand, and when he opens his eyes…
It's dark, someone's screaming. It's too warm but the blood in his body is ice cold. He's hiding, terrified, shaking, quiet, silent- “Found you.” He whips around and a hand clips his wings back and-
Aventurine jolts up in bed as he wakes, chest heaving as he pants and his wings wrap around himself as tight as they can. It takes a moment for him to register where he is. He looks around, relaxing as he hears the concerned mewls and cries of the catcakes pawing at his legs and wincing as the pain in his right wing grows strong enough that he knows it'll be sore in a few system hours. A glance at the clock tells him he's only got about ten minutes before his alarm goes off, so Aventurine sighs heavily as he gets up. The cats meow louder, now looking for food instead of worrying for their owner.
The sleepy Stoneheart stands and stretches, making sure not to step on any cat tails or smack any faces as his wings stretch out. He can afford to be a little slower today, so he feeds the cats before he goes to shower and prepare for the day. He barely makes it into the shower before his wing begins to ache, but he ignores it and instead continues with his shower and moves to do his morning routine. The most painful part of the routine is stretching his wings around himself to put the teal, gold, and black wing paint over and into his feathers.
It's a pain to do this every day, but he's a Stoneheart. He needs to be picture perfect. His wings need to be colorful and perfectly preened and his body needs to be lithe and desirable. His eyes and intentions need to be well-hidden but he must never seem too on-guard or hostile. Everything from his meticulously groomed nails to his shining bicolor eyes have to be perfect. His shoes, his hair, his clothes, his socks, they all need to be perfect. Nobody can see that Aventurine's wings had faded to an olive green, not when his wings were supposed to be bright teal that faded to pretty gold.
Perfection is obsessive, Jade had once told him, so you must obsessive over it back.
Which is why Aventurine is bothered that he looks slightly pale, just a shade or two too much from his normal tone. He puts a wrist to his head and he feels just a few degrees warmer than usual but he chalks it up to the nightmare, staring at the mirror and splashing frigid water on his face with a sigh as he continues to get ready. His daily outfit and jewelry is put on within one half hour of his shower and his hair and face are perfected in another. He’s off to work by 9, one hand on a briefcase and another in his pocket.
His normal route to his office is ignored in favor of going to the labs nearer to the Science District of Pier Point. Normally, most people in the city would fly longer distances. Cars were loud and took up space, and they were generally left for people traveling with someone or something. With his wing in the shape it was, Aventurine opted for walking. He saw no use in showing the other Stonehearts the bullet he had been hit with affected him at all, even if somewhere in the back of his head he knew that Topaz has clocked the near-infected wound as soon as she had seen it, and Sugilite was already making jokes behind his back about his luck running out.
The district is heavily guarded and the Stoneheart knows that fetching his ID badge will be a pain if he keeps putting it away after each checkpoint, so he leaves it out as he walks through. Soon enough, the checkpoints end and he's given full clearance to enter the deeper labs with what Topaz likes to call “the big juicy secrets” and what Jade corrects her with as “sensitive IPC data.” Either way, the checkpoints are a pain, but Aventurine quickly makes his way into a large lab fitted with state-of-the-art equipment. In a small cubicle with only a small name tag decorating the desk, sitting impatiently and working diligently is Doctor Veritas Ratio, his newest partner for the IPC’s newest project: Project Damocles.
Project Damocles was largely uninteresting to him, the entire concept bearing the question: “Can organic matter become mechanical? If so, how much organic matter is retained after being made mechanical? And are the process and end results efficient and effective?” The whole project was a fever dream, but Diamond himself had “expressed interest”, according to Jade, so there was no use trying to appeal to morals or science or -
“-common sense!” The doctor sighed, dropping his pen onto the desk and standing. He seemed to take a second, then he noticed Aventurine and waved him in. “Finally. You're two minutes late, gambler.” His voice took on an irritated edge as he spoke and his wings fluffed in annoyance, but Aventurine was unbothered as he moved into the room. “Apologies, doctor. You just seemed so engrossed in your work I didn't want to bother you.” The gamblers' voice was light and teasing, but he did hurry to steal a wooden lab seat from another researcher's table and drag it over to the doctor's desk to sit. His left wing bumps into a desk as he moved and Aventurine silently thanks Gaiathra he didn't hit his right one. The pain is beginning to bug him more than this morning.
“What do you wanna start with?” Aventurine leans back, putting his right hand on his lap and fidgeting with a chip in his left. One leg crosses over the other as he leans back just a little and gets as comfortable as he can.
For a second, Ratio looks like he considers taking the chip and crushing it to pieces, but he only reaches into one of the desk drawers and pulls out a file that looks thicker than two of his marble codexes combined. “This,” the doctor begins with a bit of smug pride in his voice, “is what we are discussing today. You'll be making a smaller report for Diamond once we’ve finished discussing this.” Aventurine feels his eye twitch as Ratio opens the first page and immediately flips over the next ten pages, all labeled “Table of Contents” in a large, dark font on the top. When Ratio finally gets to the first page, Aventurine sighs and leans forward and takes his sunglasses off, and the pair get to business.
It takes four hours, and by the time the entire project has been thoroughly explained Aventurine, the Stoneheart is fully versed in metal-organic hybrids.
He also feels exhausted, and it's only been four hours. It's about time for lunch and he means to ask the doctor to join him but his smile falls when his body does, head spinning as he tries to stand. Ratio catches him before he lists forward with a gasp. Aventurine's hands grip onto the doctor's robes and he takes a moment to gather himself.
“Gambler, are you alright?” Ratio's face is stoic yet his voice is laced with concern as he looks at Aventurine. Ratio checks the gamblers pulse and hands him a water bottle, then sits in front of them. “Drink. And when you're done with that, I want to look at that wound on your wing. It looks neglected and it concerns me.” Ratio stares at him and Aventurine's chest twinges. Those words sound too nice, too worried, too close to Ratio sounding like he actively cares.
“Careful, doctor, it almost sounds like you're worried for me~” Deflection seems to work perfectly as Aventurine watches the doctor roll his eyes and stand. “I'm a doctor. Whether or not I care for someone personally is irrelevant.” And Aventurine feels somewhat comforted by the way his heart pings with the rejection. It makes the gentle way the doctor touches his forehead more clinical and helps him resist the urge to lean into the touch. Ratio's hand is warm, and even though he feels like his body is too hot, it's a welcome warmth. It's only until Ratio pulls away and goes to get a first-aid kit does Aventurine realize he's closed his eyes and relaxed. When he opens his eyes, the doctor is fidgeting with something in a cupboard. His wings and back tense and he chokes back a hiss of pain.
Then he realizes Ratio's coming back with a first aid kit and it takes him a second to remember he's wearing paint. Aventurine's had years of perfecting his wing-painting, but the doctor is no fool. If the doctor were to try to clean the bullet-sized hole, the paint would slide off. Aventurine hadn't anticipated his wings getting wet and hadn’t waterproofed his paint, and while he did have an umbrella in case it rained, it would hardly help if the entirety of the IPC found his wings were dull enough to need paint every day.
It would be worse if they found out he was grounded because of a single bullet
Immediately he stands and moves to the door, hiding his dizzied stumble with a step forward. Ratio glares at him, but Aventurine continues to move, placing his hat on his head and opening the door.
“Sorry to cut this short, doc, but I just remembered I have a lunch meeting with Jade. I'll have the overview documents ready by tonight and we can review them tomorrow. Maybe over lunch?” Ratio glared at him from the desk Aventurine spread open his wings and kicked off the floor, hovering just slightly in front of the doorframe. The pain in his wing pulses with every beat of his wings and Aventurine could feel a burning in his chest and arms, but he ignored it as he winked at the doctor.
Ratio looked skeptical yet made no move to stop him. “Very well. Message me an appropriate date and time and I'll meet you.” The blonde nodded and flew over the threshold of the door, waving as he closed it. The moment it was closed, Aventurine nearly fell.
His right wing droops directly to the floor and Aventurine needs to lean on the wall to catch his breath. He's tired, his torso hurts, and his wing is no longer painful, it's numb. But he's fine. He'll work from home today until his body recovers.
It'll be better tomorrow.
He's sure of it.