After returning from an auction with more trinkets than he knows what to do with, he’s welcome by three sobbing cat cakes at the door, all piled up in one wobbly tower.
“Missed you, too,” he says, rubbing the shell of Bell, who sits at the top of the tower, “did Ratio treat you badly?” he teases, enjoying how the cat cakes shake and fumble to follow after him, “did he put you on a diet?”
Ratio has reprimanded him more than once for letting the cat cakes eat whatever they want, at whatever time of the day. So Aventurine is pretty sure that, when alone, Ratio put down strict rules for them to follow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get some snacks for you,” he says, flipping through his phone to make sure he’s replied to all of today work emails.
Acorn meows particularly loudly from where she’s in the kitchen. Aventurine follows, seeing the three little devils opening the fridge by forming once more a tower.
He shouldn’t even be surprised to see it fully stashed with food, there are even some dishes already prepared, waiting for Aventurine only to warm them up. The good doctor is always nagging him to eat more, after all.
gambler: thank you for the food doctor
gambler: I appreciate it
doctor: Just eat, gambler
doctor: and go to sleep, it’s 00:52
doctor: [sighing emoji]
gambler: [champagne emoji]
He takes out a container full of vegetables stew, quickly warming it up before dividing it in a larger portion and three smaller ones.
The idea of Ratio preparing this for him, even if just by using the Omni-Synthesizer, warms him up even more than the stew itself. It also reminds him of one of the many items he bought at the auction, the oldest cookbook found from Ratio’s home-planet.
Initially, he planned to give it to Ratio under the guise of a new publication. However, now he’s another idea.
Ratio always complains about how the food at the cafeteria and small restaurants in the university campus offers an unbalanced diet, making Ratio annoyed since he’s little time to prepare his own food.
Aventurine can work with that, he just hopes that after well over a decade without cooking he hasn’t completely lost his skills.
“Giraffes, bears, donkeys, dormice, flamingos, parrots… peaco*cks?”
Does Ratio want to eat him?
He flips the page to the recipes with birds meat as a base. Most of the recipes, regardless of if it were flamingos, parrots or peaco*cks, follows the same steps: pluck the feathers off, cut the meat to pieces, then first stew it in a ceramic container and later roast it with specific herbs — Laserpicium? — he’s never heard of.
A lot of recipes also mention a certain garum as a trendy sauce at the time, but after checking its recipe, he decides to look for something else.
On the footnotes it’s advised to clean the bones of the flamingos to make wind musical instruments, while for the peaco*cks it describes how delicious their brain is, since it stimulates the intelligence. Aventurine calls bullsh*t, but the idea of Ratio getting a migraine from such a statement amuses him — not that he plans on cooking an Attini Peaco*ck to test it.
Crossing out the variety of recipes based on bird meat, he checks the unexpectedly large section dedicated to the dormice. One recipe catches his eye, dormouse rolled in honey and sprinkled with poppy seeds. However, after seeing how the most popular recipe is about stuffing it with meatballs made of other different animals, Aventurine thinks he’s going to throw up.
This cookbook is way too wasteful. Over the years, he got used to the extravagant food the upper class eats, Jade has made sure of it, but he still remembers how his first reaction to a full-coursed meal up to the standard of a Stoneheart had him stuffing himself full until he threw up on the plate.
Ratio also doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy overly ostentatious food.
Maybe he could try the dormouse covered in honey, it seemed simple enough. Though he’ll have to search for some side dishes with vegetables to pair with it.
He checks the clock, he’s a little less than seven system hours to make a grocery shop list, have the ingredients delivered to his apartment, cook and pack the lunch box before catching an early shuttle for the University of Veritas Prime.
He can do it.
It doesn’t take long for the ingredients to be delivered, even if it’s in the middle of the night, in particular after he adds another generous tip for the inconvenience. The only trouble he had was for the meat, for which he’d to settle for a more common type, compared to the dormouse.
Now, it’s time for the chef.
Should he send the cat cakes away from the kitchen, since they’re partially pets, or is it fine since they’re also part pastries?
In the end, he lets them be, worried more about messing up the double cooking of the meat, than whatever the three cat cakes may do.
First he sets up the right pot for stewing the meat. Luckily, when he was given this apartment, the kitchen was already furnished with all sets of pots and pans, so he just needs to use the one with the right dimensions and follow the instructions.
The cookbook doesn’t mention portions, cooking times or even the oven temperature — though the cookbook is so ancient, Aventurine doubts they’d ovens at the time.
He improvises, hoping to be lucky.
Once it’s time to put the meat in the oven, he dries it up, before covering it in honey and poppy seeds, which is easy enough — though three unblinking pairs of eyes staring him down put him under some pressure. Then, he puts the meat in a tray and inside the oven.
He’s searched online to guess the oven temperature and cooking times, based on the meat weight. Everything has gone well, he’s confident he’ll be able to prepare a nice meal.
As he waits for the timer to go off, he plays some blackjack on his phone, a little bored by how easily he wins.
When it’s time to check the meat, he takes the tray out. It looks delicious from outside, but he’s to make sure it’s cooked inside, too.
Unfortunately for him, a little cut is enough to realize that inside the meat is far from cooked, which is ridiculous after being both stewed and roasted.
Rose jumps on the table at the moment, sniffing at the meat before meowing, eloquently.
“Sorry, it’s not for you,” he mutters, checking the time before putting everything back in. “Let’s wait a little more.”
The cat cakes seem to want to help him. In fact, they jump one on top of the other, right in front of the oven so that Bell, the one on top, can keep track of the cooking.
Aventurine is also pretty sure they’re gluttons who want to eat.
He checks his phone again, scrolling through his media tab mindlessly, when Bell starts meowing loudly. A subtle smell of burnt sweets also reach him.
As swiftly as possible, Aventurine grabs a cloth and opens the oven to pull out the tray.
Damn, why does he have to be unlucky now? The insides aren’t cooked yet, but the honey outside was closed to be burnt!
“Don’t touch it, it’s hot!” he admonishes his cat cakes, as he searches for something to cover the tray, before putting it back inside the oven.
Luckily, he’s some tin foil to spare.
After the third time he takes the tray out of the oven, he can be sure the meat is well-cooked — even if he’s to scratch off some of the burnt honey and add some more poppy seeds.
Maybe he should’ve gone with the peaco*ck.
While he waits for the dormouse to cool down — and it’s not burnt, just a little sprinkled with charcoal — he starts preparing the side dish.
He starts by cutting a leek to pieces, gently swatting Acorn’s paw away whenever she tries to catch a slice. Then, he mixes the sliced leek with peas and put them all together to cook.
One of the footnotes warn against letting them get too soft and to wash them in cold water after taking them off the stove. He does just as instructed, setting them to the side, mindful to cover the bowl so that the cat cakes won’t steal the peas.
After that, he prepares the sauce to mix with the vegetables, which requires more slicing.
He chooses Ratio’s favorite wine as a base, pouring a generous amount in a small bowl, before adding the rest of the ingredients — celery, garlic, coriander, oregano and honey. Once the sauce is ready, he pours it over the peas and sliced leak, mixing it all together until he’s sure it’s hom*ogeneous.
He’s surprised by how proud he feels for a work well done. This was by no means difficult, but seeing something edible coming out of his hands, and with the hope that Ratio might like it, makes him inexplicably giddy.
He stores the dish away in the fridge before Bell can lick it. Now, he just has to wait for the dormouse to cool down enough to slice it and prepare the lunch box.
He tries to convince himself that the lunch box is appealing as he looks down at it. He’s tried to scratch away the burnt parts, trying then to cover the holes with more honey, hoping it’ll taste good anyway.
At least the side dish of peas and leek looks — and tastes, at least in Acorn’s opinion, since the little devil managed to scoop up some to eat — good.
He packs away the rest of the food, which will be his and the cat cakes dinner. He’s never been wasteful, after all.
He can’t waste any more time staring at the lunch box, convincing himself it looks edible. With a decisive move, he closes the box and wrap it in a square tissue that he’s had made with adorable small cat cakes.
Now, he’s a shuttle to catch.
He’s dressed down for the occasion, at least for his standards, opting for a dark suit with a teal shirt underneath. He’s made sure to arrive at the campus in the midst of classes, when most students aren’t around and Ratio’s classes have yet to start.
Finding him is easy, be it because Ratio has a schedule he likes to follow rigidly or that Aventurine has it all memorized. Ratio is walking back to his office, close to the labs area, when Aventurine appears from behind one of the many adorned columns decorating the corridor.
“Hello, doc. Fancy meeting you here,” he says, with a little wave and a honey sweet smile.
“I work here, which you know,” Ratio says, before sighing. “What brings you here, gambler?”
“I found something interesting while working on my last project and wanted to test it out.”
“Wasn’t your last project attending an auction or was that just an excuse to spend more credits?”
“Oh my, doc!” he exclaims, laughing — after all, he never minds splurging money around — “Keeping tabs on me?”
“As if, dear gambler,” he says, his features softening as he looks at Aventurine. “So, what are you hiding in your bag?”
“Hm. Just a little something I wanted to test… and thought you might be a better judge than me.”
As he says so, he takes out the wrapped up lunch box, presenting it to Ratio, who seems uncertain as if to look at Aventurine’s face or his hands.
“…You made me lunch?”
“Well, if you want to call it that,” he says, shrugging. “Let me know what you think of it,” he says, pushing the lunch box in Ratio’s hand, ready to turn around and go back to work.
Ratio doesn’t let him go so quickly, however.
“Wait a moment, damned gambler,” he says. Aventurine looks up at him, seeing his twitching brows and scowl deepening. He nearly misses how scorching red the tips of his ears are. “Take this.”
Puzzled, Aventurine offers Ratio his hands, not sure what to expect.
He finds what must be a lunch box wrapped in an adorable tissue decorated with ducks. “Oh. You already had lunch…”
“Knowing you, you probably forgot to prepare food for yourself and your first meeting of the day is in less than three system hours,” Ratio says, matter-of-factly. “I hope it’s to your tastes.”
“I… I’m not picky,” he says, unsure of how the situation turned on him. “…Thank you, Ratio.”
With a nod — and even redder ears — Ratio bids him farewell, walking faster towards his office.
Aventurine pulls the lunch box Ratio gave him to his chest, gazing down at it as if expecting it to disappear the moment his eyes looks away.
“So smooth of you, doc…” he mutters, putting the lunch box away in his bag, before walking away, ready to catch the shuttle back to Pier Point. He can’t wait to taste Ratio’s cooking again.
RatiosBust: What is THISS??
The comment is in response to another of GoldenLaurel’s photos, one of Ratio eating by himself in one of the many tables put out in the gardens for the warmer seasons. He’s uncharacteristically smiling, appearing undoubtedly fond, even as he eats what looks dubiously edible meat.
Aventurine feels irrationally defensive. He knows his lunch box wasn’t the most appealing, but it looked better in reality than in photo. However, those fears immediately dissipates at how tender Ratio looks in the photo. Even Aventurine’s fears can’t deny Ratio is enjoying his cooking.
RatiosWife: Dr. R has a soft side to him!
RatiosBust: Those creatures on the tissue are so cute!
HeatIsA4LetterWord: Can’t believe the Dr. Ratio has it in him
RatiosHater4Life: No way he made that
RubberDucky: Yeah where are the ducks??
HeatIsA4LetterWord: I mean… Have you seen how it was inside?
RatiosWife: Someone tried to poison Dr. R?
RatiosBust: Chill dude
RatiosHater4Life: It was prob the boyfriend
That comment seems to stir up chaos amidst the students, who all react with various degrees of excitement or disbelief.
RatiosBust: Oh right, the IPC guy
RElation: Should’ve known…
HeatIsA4LetterWord: Love really sweetened Dr. Ratio… the meat looked terrible
RubberDucky: but he’s smiling in the photo!
RElation: Ratio was smiling when eating too… ugh…
HeatIsA4LetterWord: He ate it all with gusto
HeatIsA4LetterWord: Usually he never brings food from home
HeatIsA4LetterWord: And he seemed so annoyed at being disturbed
HeatIsA4LetterWord: even if it was an urgent matter that required his attention!
RubberDucky: we been knew
RubberDucky: prof is in love
RatiosWife: UGHHH THAT SCUM IS POISONING DR. R
HeatIsA4LetterWord: @RatiosWife Go cry somewhere else
RubberDucky: do you guys think prof is a closeted wife guy?
RatiosHater4Life: PERISH THAT THOUGHT
Aventurine closes the tab after that — not before saving the photo — feeling the urge to scream from how hard he’s blushing. Ratio’s little ducklings are going to be the death of him.
