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Many thanks and credit to Raycats for the headcanon that the Doctor speaks telepathically. ♥ If you have not read Dark Noise yet, those of you who are 18+, plEASE I BEG OF YOU go read it.
A little at a time. That was how progression worked. That was how any of them had been able to do anything, really, and it was still the same now. Tiny steps to the left, a few to the right and-
"That wasn't your foot, was it?"
A warped chuckle escaped the Doctor's broad chest, veins lighting to life with little flickers of sparks. His amusement was clear and embedded into the boy's head. Thanks to the telepathic connection, he didn't need to remain mute for eternity.
It was but you're too light for me to feel anything.
Quentin snorted. "I'm not that light, you know."
The Doctor shook his head a little, letting them shift their feet so that they could start again. Even still, my skin is thicker than yours. Hurting me with just pressure isn't going to be easy nor is it really that useful at all. Unless it breaks my bones but that's a different story.
The boy shrugged his shoulders and focused back on their feet, trying to mimic the box-pattern of the waltz form that Herman decided to teach him. For Quentin, it was to the right, back, to the left and then up to make a full box. All he had to do was mirror the footsteps but a part of him was just too tired to really remember that he was going right and Herman was going left on his side. And sometimes he just took a step too far or he went the wrong way. At least Herman seemed amused by it.
A full box was made and then another before Herman's voice crackled through, reverberating static down the back of his neck.
You're getting there.
Quentin smiled a little and then lost himself on that praise as he took a step to the wrong side. His lips pinched upwards into a smile he was trying to hold back until Herman gave that warbled laugh from within his broken throat.
"Well, I was," he said.
Herman gave a reassuring squeeze to the boy's softer hands, letting Quentin feel the warm rush of electricity that kept the man warmer than what was humanly possible. Unless someone was running a fever.
A beginner's step. At least it's giving us both something to do.
That was something Quentin could agree with. It kept him a bit more awake and his brain was focused elsewhere that wasn't about sleep, or the campfire and its arguments. It also gave the doctor time to stop looking over his age-old notes that probably drove him mad. Though he was constantly writing and focused on doing something that was research-based, the man also eventually ran dry on rereading the resources and drained himself. It was almost a bad habit.
"Are you bored of me yet?" Quentin asked, looking up at the face that had once struck fear and uncertainty into his own chest until he saw it more often than what either one had thought possible. White eyes looked him over and the man shook his head.
No. Herman stopped moving, hands still on the boy's. Quentin watched those eyes turn elsewhere, eyes that he had seen numerous times convey anger, fatigue and disappointment. After so many times of trying to gently break down the Doctor's walls, the man had eventually relented, leaving them both here. It took a while. A long while. But here they were.
I think we can always find something to make anything interesting. Or at least a little less boring. Those eyes found his again and the doctor spoke. Shall we keep going?
Quentin nodded, giving the older man a smile before he glanced down at their feet.
"...It's right first, right?"
Left.
Quentin looked up. "What?"
Herman was vibrating with a chuckle he could barely hold back.
It's left for me, he teased.
Quentin flicked the other's shoulder and proceeded to try again. Going right.