nealuchi | if only my heart-in-its-chest were glass

Title: if only my heart-in-its-chest were glass
Fandom: Fate/Grand Order
Character(s): Avicebron, Bartholomew, Ritsuka
Pairing(s): Avicebron/Ritsuka
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 613
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Bartholomew hits on Avicebron. Avicebron takes it in stride: Ritsuka, less so.
Notes:

Despite spending most of his time in his workshop, Avicebron keeps abreast of developments outside. So of course he’s aware of the sudden influx of low-power Servants.

Ritsuka is excited, and Avicebron can hardly blame them: it’s not unusual for them to summon new Servants every so often, but only one or two at a time. Servants of low value they may be, but every Servant can be useful in the right scenario. Even Jason.

Avicebron makes adjustments to his food-serving golems to account for the new group and thinks not much more on the subject. He certainly doesn’t go out of his way to interact with any of the new Servants himself, and he doubts any of them would want to interact with-

“I hope I’m not interrupting!”

Bartholomew Roberts, who has entered his workshop and draped himself over the table.

“Not particularly.” Regular maintenance on his golems, something Avicebron doesn’t need to devote all his attention to. “Do you need something?”

“Need something? No, no. You’re just a difficult man to track anywhere but your workshop.” Bartholomew’s smile is strange.

“Normally, other Servants only seek me out if they’re in need of something.” With rare exceptions, but even in those cases, Avicebron is not someone you want to go to for company.

“Other Servants have no taste,” says Bartholomew without hesitation. “I came to invite you to my pirate ship. Mmm, mmm… for dinner, maybe?”

…Ah. He’s being flirted with. Bartholomew is the one who has no taste.

Out loud Avicebron just says, “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“I understand, I understand completely. Then, just to relax without taking the mask off.” Before Avicebron can clarify that he meant he was too busy working to accept the invitation, Bartholomew adds, “I have plenty of gems and metals in my treasure trove, I’m sure some of them are suitable for your work - but I can hardly distinguish the suitable materials from the rest. Perhaps you could come take a look?”

Well played. Avicebron understands that this is a ploy, but the siren call of raw materials is too strong to just ignore. “Well-”

“Rider.”

Ritsuka stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed, body stiff.

“So it’s class names when you’re mad? Ooh, scary.” Bartholomew looks the opposite of scared as he waltzes over to Ritsuka. “What’s mine is yours, Master, so what’s yours is mine. Besides, you could always join us~”

“You should go.” Said through gritted teeth.

Bartholomew laughs, and pats their Master on the shoulder before strolling out.

After he’s gone, Ritsuka exhales, letting all the tension in their body go with it. They approach Avicebron, stopping just short of touching him to fidget next to him instead. “He has a thing for people who hide their eyes… I should’ve realized he’d go after you sooner, I’m sorry.”

“No harm was done. His overtures were a distraction at most.” After a moment, Avicebron opens one arm in clear invitation, and Ritsuka throws their arms around him.

Mumbled into his chest as he returns the gesture: “I know you wouldn’t do anything. I’m mad at him, not you. I’m more mad at myself that he even thought he could get away with hitting on the one I love.”

Avicebron’s chest blooms with warmth for reasons entirely separate from Ritsuka hugging him. “That type is incorrigible. It’s not for lack of obvious affection on your part that he thought to try his chances.”

It’s obvious to everyone who cares to see it. He questions Ritsuka’s taste every day, questions himself for responding to the affections when he is so unworthy of them… but that Ritsuka loves him, there can be no doubt.