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Come to my wedding! They said. It’ll be fun! They said.
But while Dottore sat in a chair, feeling the cold air squirm past the thick fabric of his suit, staring at the alter, built from wood and adorned with dead flowers that couldn’t survive the insane temperature, listening to some stupid vows that meant near nothing to him, he knew that whoever ‘they’ was, was either a liar, or a masochist.
To be completely frank, he didn’t want to be there, and if it weren’t for the fact that he killed them all, he would have sent one of his older segments to deal with this….tedious task. Probably the one he sent to Sumeru—after all, it looked the most like him. Then again, Tartagila would be pissed—and though he didn’t particularly care for the ginger’s feelings—an angry Childe was just as bad as an angry child, but if the child had knives and a thirst for blood.
The ‘Prime’ Dottore not coming would only have resulted in problems.
But while Dottore stirred his golden flask, hand feeling burnt from how could the metal was, barely paying attention to the couple while the feeling the angry glare from the birds and the brats that called themselves Adepti, he couldn’t help but wonder if the trouble would have been worth it.
Because really—the atmosphere couldn’t be described as anything but tense, and the celebration nothing but boring. And all of this was while he couldn’t keep himself from shivering and clenching his teeth, because again—Snezhnaya was probably barely even livable if it weren’t for evolution.
He would much rather be in his lab, continuing his experiment on elemental sigils. And though it hadn’t been successful yet, it would certainly not work any faster if he just sat on his ass and spent his time in meaningless events. It was bothering him that he couldn’t work on it right now—because if he did, maybe he could find a more efficient and..less costly (as per the request of the Regrator) delusion.
“Do you promise to—“
Please. No one was paying attention—and he was rather sure he wasn’t just talking about himself. The Adepti were too busy wondering what way they were going to kill the Fatui, and the Fatui too busy staring at the Adepti in frustration. Dottore grumbled, looking at the red liquid—which was so weak he could barely call it wine, that reflected his mask.
He distinctly remembered Tartaglia telling him not to wear it, but he couldn’t care less. His mask was a shield, it was the only piece of clothing that he felt the need to wear every day. Besides, Tartaglia was letting Capitano wear his helmet—so why couldn’t Dottore? And if Childe of all people thought he cared enough about his wedding to take it off, he must be more idiotic than he originally thought.
Dottore had to grip his cup a bit tighter when a particularly cold gust of air came. Sure, he lived in Snezhnaya now, but really he spent most of his time in his lab, and he was born and lived most of his time in the hot forest known as Sumeru. The cold wasn’t exactly his friend. Alas, there he was..suffering in boredom and slowly turning into a popsicle. Not to mention he was abandoning his work, that ,if he were to say, was going splendidly.
Sure it wasn’t quite done yet, but he managed to gain a small reaction from a light sigil, even if it was just a small little light. Hm…however, almost all the other sigils seemed unresponsive, at least so far. He’s pretty confident that if he applies the right chemical onto the anemo sigil, it may manage to provoke a gust of wind—though he would have to find a way to contain it so the chemical stays in the sigil and doesn’t react until the user desires, which would most likely take a good amount of funding.
And Dottore sighed, because if he needed funding then he would have to go to the Regrator himself, and the last time he had asked for money it had turned into a very long bitching session. It was a fun conversation, sure—and though Dottore would never admit it, he enjoyed bothering Pantalone. For some reason, his reactions were always so..fun. He was always so expressive, even when his eyes were closed.
Truly, he liked the others presence—but if he ever said so, Pantalone’s already inflated ego would grow so much larger. And quite unreasonably so. Dottore needed money, and he was just..glad that Pantalone was not that annoying. That’s all.
But the man couldn’t seem to understand why the Doctor needed said money, claiming that “it shouldn’t take that much money for a simple experiment” and that he was “making him lose more money than any other harbinger”. But Dottore found that unlikely, with the way that Childe spent so much in Liyue. Besides, Pantalone was a dramati—
“Hm. I truly do wonder why a god would choose..Childe. Out of everyone in Teyvat, what makes him special?” Ah. Speak of the devil. Dottore turned to his right and saw Pantalone, eyes closed and standing in front of him holding two glasses, one in each hand. He was wearing a black suit, just like Dottore, which looked strange on him considering he usually wore coats. His hair was worn exactly the same as always, maybe even a bit more messy than usual. Truly a testament to how much the man cared. “May I sit here?” He asked politely, but by the time Dottore shrugged, he was already sitting down.
“I already have a glass. You didn’t have to get another” Dottore grumbled quietly as to not draw any attention to them. It was apparently “rude” to speak in the middle of a wedding ceremony. Well, that was a quote from Sandrone—who shouldn’t really be talking about manners with the way she speaks. Pantalone let out a small chuckle behind the glass, and after he took a sip, finally responded.
“Well that’s good, because both of these are for me. Honestly I don’t think there’s a way I can make it through this..wedding..without an ungodly amount of alcohol.” The way he said wedding was full with venom, as if he was cringing at the thought. Dottore couldn’t blame him.
“You say ungodly as if the Anemo archon doesn’t consume eight bottles a day” And it was true, if what Rosalyne had said wasn’t a lie or exaggeration. Pantalone took a quick look at the aforementioned god, who was sitting with one leg crossed above the other, grabbing the cup loosely and looking as if he had already drunken tens of glasses—hair aloof and legs jittery.
Pantalone took a long chug at his wine, bringing the glass all the way up in a dramatic way Dottore snorted at. Archons, his..partner was dramatic. When his head came back down, he turned to Dottore, smiling in a way that others may say was genuine, but that he knew for a fact was only hiding venomous words, cold eyes, and a mind that was making a plan on exactly how to destroy anyone he met. It made Dottore smile, for some reason.
“That’s what I meant” he said with conviction.
Dottore scoffed, taking a sip from his own cup before regretting it instantly, because it was bitter—and not in a good way. “Ugh—its really weak. It’s gonna take a lot of glasses to actually get drunk.” Pantalone hummed, looking at his other glass and nodding.
“Yes..and not to mention how awful the wine tastes. Maybe it’s just my taste, but I’m almost certain this thing is the cheapest they could find.” He sighed, shaking his head. “They really couldn’t even bother making one thing good at this event”
Dottore sighed, looking up at the cloud-covered sky. “Sounds about right..honestly I don’t know why I came to begin with. It’s not worth the time or effort” Pantalone giggled quietly, and for some reason the sound felt…bad—like it burned something in his chest. “Most likely because Childe would beat your ass if you didn’t show”
He knew this wasn’t true, so it of course inspired an eye roll—not that it was visible to the other. But from the way Pantalone sighed, he was guessing he was still able to tell. “Please. Tartaglia is the least of my worries—I can beat gods, and he couldn’t even beat a mere traveler. He’s the last of the harbingers for a reason” Childe, Ajax, Tartaglia—whatever name you called him, he’s still pathetic. Like a little fly on a window ruled by wasps.
The banker hummed, and stared at Childe, who was staring at Mo—..Zhongli, with kind, sweet eyes. “Can’t argue with that. Not to mention he’s so painfully oblivious to everything” he added, and Dottore chuckled lowly. So he wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What are we doing now? Talking shit about the bride? But yes, you are correct. He’s so oblivious that he can’t tell everyone in the room wants to kill each other”
Pantalone brought a hand up to his chest in mock offense. “Are you implying you want to kill me?!” He asked, as if the thought was scandalous. Obviously it was fake, Pantalone already knew the risks of working with the Doctor, after all. Well, and the fact that they were Fatui—it meant poisoning was about as common as a cold, and considering the fact that they were in Snezhnaya, that meant it was rather common.
Dottore hummed and looked around. In the front, there was a lovey-dovey couple, on one side there was birds that were staring daggers at the Fatui, and on the other, Fatui that had actual daggers.
“If it means getting the hell out of this wedding, yes. Absolutely.” And just then, it appeared that…whatever that part of the ceremony was, was over, because there were people..and swans, clapping. It was loud as hell—yet another reason he hated it here.
As soon as he realized what was going on, he went on to clapping like everyone else, though it was with barely any enthusiasm. His hands were slacking, hitting the other without making much noise. Pantalone was at least doing a decent job at appearing interested, keeping up a smile, his back straight and clapping perfectly normal. He looked almost majest—ahem.
They kept on clapping for what felt like an hour, but was really only a minute or so. His hands hurt, even with the little amount of clapping that was done. He really hoped that there wasn’t going to be another part where they clapped. He looked around, and saw that people were getting up now. Oh! That must have been the end of that part. He then realized that this meant he hadn’t listened to the vows, or the crowning or whatever the hell was going on. Wonderful! The most boring part was over.
…Then again, that meant the next part was the party. He’d never been to one—shockingly enough, No one ever invited him to the very few parties there were in Sumeru. Not that he wanted to go. It all sounded like a bunch of idiotic games and pointless activities. Pantalone hummed, getting up along with the rest of the crowd.
“I heard..a rumor about the…slow dance” Dottore stood up, legs aching from how long he was sitting in the uncomfortable chair, and snorted. “You can take a man out of Liyue, but you can’t take the Liyue from a man…I guess the rumor’s still stuck with you, hm?” He questioned, remembering how the Regrator had mentioned how there was no secrets back there in one of their business meetings turned hang out, and it made Pantalone nudge him slightly, as they started walking away to the celebration area.
Though Dottore didn’t like touch, he was clinging onto it—could still feel the gentle electricity on his arm. Which was stupid. It’s not like he liked the touch, and it wasn’t even gentle to begin with.
“Hush now. Don’t credit my genius to my birthplace” He hissed quietly, giving Dottore a small side eye. Dottore quirked an eyebrow as they started walking, because he distinctly remembered having their roles flipped awhile ago. What a hypocrite.
“You say that as if you don’t think the only reason I’m smart is because I was born in Sumeru.” The fact that the Regrator didn’t respond spoke many volumes. And for some reason, it stung—ever so slightly. No. No he didn’t care—he could think whatever he wanted. If he thought Dottore was only as good as the place he was born in, he can continue to think that.
“Besides, I would hardly call Liyue a ‘intelligent’ region. I mean..their archon chose Tartaglia—he’s just as dense as his element” he said, smiling at the insult towards Morax.
The banker tried to hide the small smile that made its way to his face with the way they were smack talking his archon. It was a shame he tried to hide i—NO—no, it was fine. Archons, what was going on with him?
“Yes..I will admit, the only good thing about Liyue is their economics. And their food—but I doubt Mr “Zhongli” can even cook a chicken.” Dottore was going to respond simply, but a little thought crawled into his head. If Zhongli can’t cook..would that mean that…he started smiling uncontrollably at a, albeit far fetched, implication to that statement.
“Doctor? Are you alright?” Pantalone asked, his voice perfectly neutral. Dottore must have stopped walking, kind of zoned out for a moment. He looked up, ignoring the entrance to just look straight at Pantalone. “Are you…implying that Tartaglia would be a house wife?” He asked, imagining Tartaglia in a pink apron running around the house trying to cook food, when he damn well knows that Tartaglia can’t cook anything without it burning and tasting like shit.
“That’s not what I—oh archons that’s perfect” he nodded in approval, giggling lightly at the idea as they walked inside the…arena? It looked like an arena, at least. No disco ball, no dance floor…an arena. “If Childe heard you, he would definitely throw an arrow at you” he added, and the Doctor shrugged.
“Let him—sometimes a child just needs to throw a tantrum” he cocked his head towards Childe, who was talking to the DJ, one arm clinging onto Zhongli as he spoke enthusiastically, like a little child in a candy shop.
Pantalone shook his head. “You would be an awful parent..” he sighed. Dottore went silent for a bit—and he didn’t know why. It shouldn’t feel like a disappointment to hear that. Dottore sat himself down at a table, setting his almost empty glass in front of him. “Oh I know. There’s a reason I don’t have children”
Pantalone took a sip of his cup and sat at the opposite side of Dottore. “Hm..are you sure it’s not because no one wants to date you?” He asked, voice perfectly pleasant. Yeah. You don’t w—WHAT THE HELL, no—no, no no. Move past that. No, he didn’t mean that—dammit you’re taking too long to respond.
“That’s just because I don’t care enough. I mean, if Tartaglia managed—I’m sure it can’t be that hard”
Pantalone nodded. “That’s true, I suppose. Still, though—there’s most likely a reason no other harbinger dates” he stated, taking yet another sip. …is that drama he sensed?
“Oh? What, that we actually care about our work?” He asked, and Pantalone laughed, startled—as if the thought was ridiculous and impossible. “Archons, no! You..you don’t genuinely think that, right? I mean have you SEEN Colombina? All she does is sleep and sing. That’s it.” He would argue, but when Dottore turned to see Colombina, she was in fact asleep.
“I mean..she still has a higher rank than you” Dottore said nonchalantly, for the sole purpose of seeing Pantalone flare up with frustration. It was always fun to see him flare up. “Oh you little piece of sh—“
“And now, as a honor to this undying love, our first fight will begin! If any other couples would like to fight alongside them, you are welcome to do so!” An announcer said happily, making Dottore pause for a second to soak that in.
Really?
Really??
He’s not a person who complains about tradition, but holy shit. A fight?! That was…wow, just wow. Childe wanted to signify love by fighting. That..relationship would “surely” prosper.
“A fight—a fight..of course Childe would choose a FIGHT over a dance. I swear, does he not understand tradition?!” Dottore started going off, rubbing his mask were his forehead would be.
Pantalone huffed, shaking his head. “I was going to warn you before you insulted my home land, archon and my coworkers.” It was true, but whatever—that didn’t matter.
Dottore grumbled but didn’t respond, instead starting to look at the ongoing fight. If Tartaglia had the audacity to abandon tradition, and especially when it signifies his shit mentality, the least he could do was make the fight interesting.
“Hm. I wonder why there’s no one else on the…fight floor.” Pantalone questioned, looking around and noticing a few harbingers arguing with a white and blue bird. Dottore didn’t shift his attention from the fight, because admittedly, it was interesting—instead answering with an empty response. “I mean—us harbingers fighting couldn’t end in anything good. Just give the Adepti a bit more time. That short dark haired one looks like he’s just about ready to kill me…or any of us.” He answered just as Zhongli managed to land a painful hit on Childe. He winced at the noise from the contact. Honestly, he knew Zhongli was going to win in the end. There were exactly three harbingers who could beat him, and Childe was not one.
Pantalone sighed, and although his back was turned from the fight, he could hear the punches and the apologies. “How they find this romantic is beyond me.” He muttered. Dottore hummed. I mean I like it when we fi—nope. Shut that door. “I mean—it’s more fun to watch this than a dance, at least”
“I suppose so bu—“ Pantalone started, but was interrupted when the earlier mentioned short guy started yelling..rather loudly. Even though it wasn’t directed towards them, it still made him halt.
“You filthy mortal has no idea what Sir Zhongli has done, if you even D—“
Dottore sighed, tsk’ing when he saw that Colombina was awoken and arguing with another. This was sure to get interesting. “Well…it appears we have our second pair of fighters” he declared, leaning back down in his chair as they yelled at each other.
“Oh look. It’s you when you don’t get your funding” Pantalone signaled towards them, rather smugly, as they went to the ‘fight floor’ (which was just a fighting arena). “I’m not that bad” he claimed, but Pantalone shook his head. “You really are…but I suppose you’re not as bad as Arlecchino. God knows that when she’s pissed there’s no stopping her”
“That’s true. I swear, that lady gets vicious over the smallest things.” Dottore said with a scoff, remembering that one time he had taken one of her orphaned kids for experimentation. It wasn’t even one of his bad ones.
Pantalone nodded. “Yes…but if I’m thinking about it..” he started, and pointed at the vicious Adepti that kept on picking fights.
“He..I believe his name is Xiao, is most likely worse than even her. I had the displeasure of encountering him when I lived in Liyue…multiple times, and he is..truly not one for talking. I wasn’t even part of the Fatui back then, and he still threatened me. Not to mention I believe he killed an innocent.” He moved his hands exaggeratedly, trying to emphasize how awful he was.
“Some call him a ‘protector’” he said the word with venom, like he hated the idea of it. “But in reality, he’s just a feral dog under control of the ever so stupid god of contracts.” He finished his small rant, and Dottore huffed. If Pantalone hated this guy so much for just being rude and killing one innocent…he didn’t want to know what he thought of Dottore. “Damn. Sounds like you really hate him..” he turned to the fight between ‘Xiao’ and Colombina.
“I don’t hate him. I just..dislike him. More than that, I dislike the idea of him being seen as a hero. Tsaritsa knows I’ve done much worse, but I’ve never seen myself as a hero ” he stated formally and in a matter of fact voice. Though he knew it wasn’t intended, that somehow felt..comforting. “If Colombina beats him, though…I may just accidentally slip in an extra thousand or so mora in her next pay check.”
Wait..what?
“I’m sorry..WHAT?! You get pissed at me if I just do much as TOUCH a—I don’t know..hundred mora tea cup, but she gets in a fight and suddenly you’re willing to give her A THOUSAND?!?!” He argued, standing from his seat. “This is blatant favoritism!” He accused, and Pantalone shrugged.
“I mean…she doesn’t really ask for much mora. Unlike someone I know” he said, eyeing Dottore. “I need that mora for science” he argued weakly, and even though it was true, he knew Pantalone didn’t care so much. Damn him and his beautiful stupidity.
“And what exactly has your science done to benefit us?”
“I’ll have you know that the delusions that the Fatui use is a product of my—“
“You mean the ones that killed half our army?”
“It’s a work in progress!!!”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“I swear to the archons I will strangle yo—“
Some of the people around them stared, wondering if they were going to join the others with a fight, but despite what they thought, they never did. Instead, they just went on, making increasingly absurd (and violent) insults, before switching back to talking shit about their coworkers. And though it all looked angry, it was their own way of being fond of each other.
And they went on for a good few hours, arguing, talking shit and the occasional business agreement. By the time that everyone else was leaving, they were in the middle of making an agreement for the elemental sigil project.
“No. That’s too much mora. I’m willing to do a good million, but anything more is absurd.” Pantalone said simply, his finger hovering over a napkin that they were using to draw out plans and expenses.
“But we both agreed that the chemical process would cost a minimum of three million, so truly, I don’t see why you can’t—“ Dottore was interrupted by a rather tall figure, bandaged up by a fight, wearing his long dark hair in a straight, thin ponytail, who walked right in front of them, standing next to a slightly shorter ginger.
He looked even more like a pretentious bitch than Pantalone.
Dottore paused, lacing his fingers together and conjuring the best fake smile he could. It still looked rather rash and annoyed, where as Pantalone’s looked perfectly sweet and genuine. Fucking bitch.
“Ah, hello. You must be Mr Zhongli” the kinder looking one spoke, getting up and reaching a hand out to him. Zhongli smiled, grabbing the hand and shaking it lightly, hands slightly bloodied, but thankfully, it had dried. “Yes, that would be me. It’s a pleasure to meet you both” he greeted, directing his statement at both Pantalone and the more frustrated Dottore.
“Of course” was all the Doctor could force himself to say, and even then it didn’t sound kind, rather it sounded like metal slashing onto another piece of metal. Pantalone took not even a second to correct Dottore’s poor conduct. “Ah, I’m sorry for my..coworkers tone. He’s not exactly the most social person.” Pantalone reassured, looking at Dottore, annoyance clear in his voice. But Dottore, for whatever reason, focused more on the pause before saying coworkers.
Childe sighed. “Zhongli, these are my comrades, Pantalone” he signaled to the banker, “and Dottore” he signaled to the Doctor. Zhongli smiled happily as he looked at Childe with sickly sweet eyes. How…disgusting.
“It’s a pleasure. I hope neither of you are upset by Ajax and I’s engagement” Zhongli said, a gentle smile plastered on his face, but a small twinge of nervousness in his eyes. As if…they were close to Tartaglia, and needed their permission. The thought only served to make Dottore angrier. He was never close to Tartaglia, and never would be.
“Of course we aren’t! Tartaglia here is the first to be married, so we are incredibly proud of him for finding someone, especially of your..uh..status.” Pantalone said, professionally, and Zhongli nodded, clearly a bit less tense. Almost relaxed.
Maybe too much so.
“Ah, yes. I suppose you two will be the next?” Zhongli asked, and both the Second and the Ninth looked at each other. Don’t assume. “The next to..what?” Dottore asked, voice careful. Zhongli had an eyebrow down, confused.
“Well, you two are together, are you not?” He said it more as a statement then as a question, and even after a few seconds of silence (well, apart from a few poorly hidden laughs from Childe) he still seemed convinced.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Dottore was glad he was wearing the mask, because otherwise, his twitching eye and very much pissed (and embarrassed) face would not be hidden. “Wait..you’re not?” Zhongli started sounding a bit unsure. He could feel his face heating up, and he hated the fact that his heart seemed content at the idea of them being together.
“Of course not!!” Dottore yelled, hoping up from his chair and extending his arms. Pantalone was still entirely silent, looking down. Well crap. “I hate him!! Of course we’re not together!!” He declared, trying to convince himself, and Childe started chuckling a bit louder. And oh archons he’s never hated him more.
“Ah, I apologize. It appears I misunderstood. You just…seemed very close. I must have jumped to conclusions” he said simply, and Dottore started pulling up his sleeves slightly, because the fucking nerve of this man. Childe may not be able to beat him, but Dottore could take him. Especially with the fact he was already hurt. And just as he was about to open his mouth, Pantalone finally regained the ability of speech.
“It’s quite alright, sir. My..friend here is rather..hm, defensive. Just ignore him.” He said, with a neutral, calm, collected tone that Dottore knew was hiding the message ‘calm the fuck down or I will reduce the budget to half a million’. So, for the moras sake, he clawed his mouth shut.
Zhongli smiled. “Of course. Thank you for the kindness and hospitality, but I am afraid we must go say our goodbyes to another guest.” He said kindly, and as he started walking away, Childe took a second to laugh at both their faces. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was immature.
And, as to show how different Dottore was to that, he stuck up his middle finger while sticking out his tongue. Childe clearly saw it, but he turned away right after, going to bother the next guest.
Pantalone sighed, shaking his head in disbelief to the Doctors foolish theatrics. He looked disappointed. Probably disappointed in Dottore for acting so stupidly.
“Is the idea of dating me really that bad?” He asked, making Dottore freeze. Fuck. He wanted to say yes immediately…but for some reason it made him stop. Was it? Because when he thought of them together and happy..or as happy as they could be…he couldn’t seem to find himself disliking it.
He coughed, and went to respond but shut his mouth. His face was feeling warm—and fuck. How was he supposed to respond?! If he said Yes and somehow the Regrator actually liked him, then any hope for what he…wanted, was gone. If he said No, and Pantalone did not want him..well, that would be a whole different issue.
Pantalone huffed happily, his eyes actually opened. “Aww..look at you, so flustered. Maybe yo—“ The Doctor was calm, he was an evil but intelligent opponent and he never acted on impulse. But Zandik, the boy in him that still lived, could never contain his interests. And at that moment, Zandik took over.
“No.”
Pantalone shut right up, eyes gnawing open in shock before attempting to speak. “That..uhm—yes, that..uh” he was sputtering, looking away while his cheeks got slightly colored. And for some reason, Dottore wanted more.
“No, it would be quite pleasant—actually.” His heart was racing but he kept going—because despite everything, he wanted this, and if Pantalone rejected that, it would be a problem for another day. Pantalone coughed, and seemed to regain his composure. A shame. Red looked good on him.
“Is this..your way of asking me out?” He asked teasingly, smiling in a way that could only be described as sly. Dottore reciprocated. “Yes.”
They sat in silence for only a second, as Pantalone soaked it all in. Dottore knew that this moment was what would decide what their relationship would be from now on. It all depended on his reaction at this moment.
…
“I agree”
What a wonderful wedding