#vega can be insensitive but hey. he isn't as bad as avarice. he's trying.

[overclockedroulette]

so here's that fic with avarice and vega i promised! ages ago! it also just so happens to be the first time they met :)

also! a reminder that the situation with chio was incredibly traumatic! he's fine with literally any other physical contact (a little starved for it, actually), but he won't let anyone touch his neck. totally nothing to do with having needles shoved into his neck repeatedly for several weeks to forcibly drug him into complacency.

it is such a surprise vega hasn't been killed in a lab 'accident' yet.

they are insufferable together, but at least vega is a half-decent role model. sort of. i mean. he's like 60% more mentally stable so that's gotta count for something. at least he Tries to fit into polite society.

~~~

When Fabrica had told him he would be working with another person, Avarice didn’t question it. A minor hindrance, sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He wouldn’t complain to a monarch - especially one with such a high level of influence such as Miss Fabrica Kiriatta (not to her face, anyway). He knew his etiquette. He could be civil.

“Hello,” a changeling (they weren’t normally this obvious, were they?) with long, pale hair outstretched their hand to him. “Avarice, right? From Aublilon? Is it true that they raise you workers from birth, there?”

Avarice raised an eyebrow. “Charming. It is. How about your name, darling?”

“Oh! My mistake. Vega Mochizuki. Polaris.”

“Polaris?” He put on a mock-interested voice. He couldn’t help himself. “Is it true you’re all trust-fund cowards spoonfed directly by the richest people alive?”

Pause. Neither of them broke eye contact.

“Well, aren’t you the feisty one?” Vega teased, “Definitely on your high horse for a trained dog.”

“Trained dog?” Avarice mused, still refusing to take his eyes off the changeling in front of him. “That’s an interesting way to say ‘naturally talented’. No need for jealousy, sweetheart.”

Vega let out a short laugh, incredulous. “Jealous? You were raised like a show animal, what is there to be jealous of?”

“Oh, just let me think…” he mocked, “Resolve, intelligence, talent, general superiority-”

“-lack of free will, non-existent social skills, ignorance of the outside world, probably some serious mental health issues,” Vega listed on his fingers, taking no small amount of satisfaction in the affronted noise that Avarice made when he mentioned that last one. “Do I need to go on?”

“Point taken, Pulsar lapdog.”

“Oh! So the circus lion’s a crackpot conspiracy theorist, too!”

“Oh, please.” Avarice rolled his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics, we all know where you get your ‘government funding’.”

“As if money laundering and tax evasion is any better?”

“Better than being another Pulsar lackey.”

Vega stepped forward, the smallest hint of frustration in his voice. “We aren’t with the Pulsars.”

Avarice just smirked and shrugged in response, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Of course not, dear. And I’d appreciate a little more respect, if you don’t mind. Drop the attitude.”

“Were you trained to talk like that? Speaking of which, if I told you to roll over, would you do it?”

“Prick,” Avarice hissed.

“Mutt.”

“Pig.”

“Bitch.”

“Insect.”

“Freak.”

“Pulsar sugar baby.”

“Aubilon showdog.”

“Fucking third-rate-”

“Am I interrupting something?” Both parties - who were now very much within a sword’s-length of each other - turned at Fabrica’s voice. “No, please, do continue. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing you both at each other’s throats.”

Vega coughed. “I apologise, ma’am. How long have you been here?”

“The whole time,” she smiled. “I don’t mind, but please keep personal affairs and grudges outside of work. You understand?”

They both nodded, albeit glaring the other down the whole time. Fabrica smiled, not believing it for a second. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

There were a few moments after she swept out of the door, as they both waited for her footsteps to become inaudible. Vega was the first to speak.

“I want to test something, if you don’t mind.”

“I mind,” he insisted, quite firmly. That didn’t stop Vega from turning on his heel to face him, an insufferable grin on his face, and pointing one finger in his direction.

“Sit.”

Avarice recognised a command spell being cast: he had quite the array of experience with the feeling - an impulse that wasn’t quite his shooting through his body, unexpected and unwanted, as uncontrollable as blinking or breathing. The recognition did not, however, stop him from collapsing into a cross-legged position the second the words left Vega’s lips, pain shooting through his legs as they hit the ground with force. He at least had the dignity not to cry out, especially since Vega’s laughing was starting to get on his nerves.

“Oh! So you are like a dog!”

“Piss off,” he muttered, starting to stand up. Vega cleared his throat.

“Ah-ah! Stay.”

He froze. He knew that was another spell, but yet again he found himself returning to his original position, unmoving and seething. Vega knelt down to his level, locking eyes with Avarice and smirking. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I will fucking kill you,” he spat.

“Oh yeah?” he hummed, placing a hand on his neck and rubbing a thumb across it playfully, not noticing the other scientist freeze up. “Reckon you’d suit a collar, psycho?”

Avarice’s breath hitched. He couldn’t respond. Normally, he’d bat his hand away before he could think too much about it, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t move and all he could focus on was the hand on his neck and he felt like he was choking. This wasn’t Chio. This wasn’t the same situation. He shouldn’t be feeling like this right now; he shouldn’t feel like this at all, feeling like this was weak but he couldn’t move and there was a hand on his neck and fuck he felt so unbearably helpless. It hurt. It hurt, and he was helpless, and he couldn’t control it, he couldn’t control anything, and his chest stung and his head was all static and he didn’t know how long he’d been hyperventilating. He barely even knew where he was. This was weak. This was weak, and he’d pay for it. He’d pay for it like he had with Chio. His head hurt. Everything was static.

He barely registered Vega dispelling his magic, or the awkward attempted reassurances. He did, however, register the pressure on his neck transferring down to wrap clumsily around his torso, and he certainly felt himself collapse his whole weight forwards and rest his head in the ruffles of Vega’s shirt as he evened out his breathing. This was fine. This wasn’t Chio.

“Hey- hey, it’s- I mean, I- I didn’t mean to do that,” Vega finally settled on as Avarice came to his senses, after a few hastily stammered explanations that he half-hoped he was too far gone to hear. “You’re alright?”

There was a long pause. Avarice managed to push himself away from Vega as harshly as possible, getting to his feet albeit a little shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mind telling me what I did to elicit that reaction?”

“Why?” The response was instant and defensive. Vega hadn’t meant it as an attack, but the reaction he was getting made it clear that Avarice had taken it as one. He explained as carefully as he could.

“So that I don’t cause it again. Obviously.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he retorted, looking not unlike a cornered puppy. Vega sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you paranoid fuck, just tell me why you freaked out.”

Avarice blinked slowly. Narrowed his eyes. Then let out a small sigh, and pointed to his neck, elaborating only with a hesitant “don’t.”

“Alright. That’s all I wanted to know,” he shrugged. “I’d ask why, but it could be anything with you Aubilon lot, so I’d probably rather not know.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a prick. Mind doing me a favour?”

“I do mind, actually.”

“Cool,” he shrugged off, disregarding Vega’s response entirely in favour of taking a quarterstaff to the back of his knees and watching him collapse, letting out a surprised yelp. He knelt down to his level and smiled, taking out a vial of who-knows-what from his pocket and holding it out to him without once breaking eye contact. “Oh, and you didn’t think I’d let you get away with disrespecting me like that, did you, sweetheart? We have some testing to do.”

Vega averted his eyes nervously, taking the vial with hands that were much less stable than he thought they were. “I’m- I’m not drinking this.”

Avarice leant in, still smiling. “Oh, but you are. Don’t worry, though, it’s perfectly safe. Or, at least, it won’t kill you. I hope.”

“You can’t make me-”

“Can’t I?” he hummed, in a tone that suggested that he absolutely could. “Would you like to take your chances?”

A pause. Then Vega shuddered, said a prayer, and downed the vial.