Work Text:
The metal table in the middle of Dottore’s lab was covered in so much blood and other various chemicals that it had started dripping down the side. Drip, drip, drip, splashing down on the floor. It had no rhythm to it, no regularity. Dottore wanted it to stop, but his work couldn’t wait. This stupid deal with that child Archon had almost completely reset all his scientific progress about this. He’d never realised before just how lively his lab was, but without his clones running around now, it seemed eerily quiet and empty. Quiet except for the ongoing drip, drip, drip…
He hissed in annoyance, but it wasn’t aimed at anyone or anything in particular. He was annoyed and exhausted. He’d break down from it any moment now, he knew, but until then, he had to get as far as he could. The lifeless body on the table still needed a lot of work, and it was only one of many. At least, the rest should get exponentially easier the more clones he had that could assist him. That thought was his only motivation at the moment.
The clone’s mechanical heart was completely destroyed, and it was missing an arm. How that had happened, Dottore didn’t know. It definitely hadn’t been part of the destruction process. The idiot had probably fallen down or something.
He started with the arm. It would be the easier task, or so he hoped. Difficult to say when his entire body was practically begging for a break. Inspecting the wound didn’t help him much, all he could see was torn muscles and flesh, but at least no broken bones. He could sew skin and tissue, but not bones. Dottore searched for a bottle of disinfectant, knowing that it was somewhere on the table, but all this moving around made his head spin. For how long has he not slept? A week? Two? Three? Honestly, he couldn’t remember. Probably three weeks rather than one or two.
All the blood on the table didn’t make his search any easier, but, ah yes, there it was. With a triumphant grin, Dottore held up the bottle, checking how much was left in it. Not too much, sadly, but it had to be enough. He’d already exhausted all his funds getting what materials he had right now, and he certainly wasn’t going to risk his last body asking for more already.
He didn’t get far. He applied the disinfectant, but that was all he managed before the exhaustion-induced trembling in his hands got too strong to even hold the bottle steady enough. Dottore’s eyelids felt so heavy, and the bright light of the lab was hurting his eyes, even behind the mask. He had half a mind to close the bottle and store it away, but that was all he could do before even standing became too much. He sat down with his back against the foot of the table (and, no, he definitely hadn’t fallen down to the floor), completely ignoring the blood and chemicals soaking his clothes. The dripping sound suddenly sounded so melodic, like a gory lullaby.
He yawned, and before he fully realised it, he was already deep asleep.
He woke up, feeling no bit refreshed at all. It took him a moment to figure out what was going on, where he was. It wasn’t his lab. It was too warm for that. But it also wasn’t his bed. Actually, it wasn’t even a bed in general. Beds didn’t shake him around so much. They didn’t have arms to hold him. No… this was a person. And, oh, there really weren’t many who would just pick him up like this, huh? An arm under his knees, the other on his back, Dottore’s head resting against this person’s chest. He didn’t need the metallic scent of mora, mixed with that of paper and ink, to tell him who this person was.
He glanced up at the Regrator, intending to ask what he was doing, but the… worry? in his expression made him forget about that question. Now was not the time to disturb this peace between them with questions that would most likely start a discussion about cooperation vs. independence. And, really, sleep was something he very much needed right now, no matter how much he hated that fact. And Pantalone was warm, held him in his arms as if the Doctor was a priceless treasure. And, ah, there was it again, this strange feeling he only ever felt in the presence of this one specific coworker of his. A warmth not even Snezhnaya’s freezing winter could diminish. For a second or two, he closed his eyes. And suddenly, a second lasted for a minute.
Sooner than he expected, the arms around his body were replaced by a soft mattress underneath and a warm, heavy blanket on top of him. Something about this felt… unfamiliar, but his sleep-deprived brain couldn’t figure out why. He heard someone sigh, then sleep took over once more.
Morning came and left, then noon, evening, night, morning again, noon, evening, night. Dottore had no idea how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes again, blinking at the darkness around him. His mask was off, but he didn’t care about that detail right now. Nobody could see him here anyway. It took a moment before he realised that, ah yes, he wasn’t in his lab anymore, he was in a bedroom. Not his bedroom, though. It lacked the chaos of his own chambers, the piles of books and documents of all levels of confidentiality. From what Dottore could see in the dark, this room had a bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a bunch of boxes in various sizes and shapes. Apart from that, it was empty. It was also completely silent in here, not even the ticking of a clock could be heard.
He tried to stand up, but the blanked was weighted, and the way it pressed his body down against the mattress felt surprisingly nice. A few more hours of rest wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially here, where it was so peacefully silent and clean. Not that he minded places that weren’t (read: his rooms and laboratories), but this was a pleasant change of surroundings. He brought the blanket higher, taking in its smell that was so… pleasantly familiar, and fell asleep again.
The sound of a door falling shut woke him up. He could barely see the silhouette of the person who’d just entered the room, but, just like before, there weren’t many options.
“So you’re awake”, Pantalone’s voice proved his assumption to be correct, as expected, “I was about to report you dead, or in a coma”.
Because of the dark, Dottore of course couldn’t see it, but from his tone alone he knew that the Regrator was smiling his usual smile of faked politeness.
“Perhaps I should have done so”, Pantalone went on, “It certainly would have saved me a lot of mora if everyone thought you dead, and therefore unable to request any further fundings. Just imagine how nice that would be for our treasury. Ask anyone there and they will tell you that you are the one who always needs the most mora out of all the Harbingers”.
Dottore sat up and huffed, “If you told everyone that I was dead, you would have to organise me a funeral. I’m not really sure if that would truly be so much cheaper than the fundings I require for my work. And then all those questions people will ask if they find out that the last person I saw before I died was you. Or, well, I assume you would leave out that detail, wouldn’t you?”
In response, he heard a sigh and then a soft click, which was followed by a warm light illuminating the room. Now, he could see the way the other shook his head, presumably in exasperation, as he walked to stand next to the bed. Dottore didn’t move as Pantalone touched his forehead with the back of his hand, keeping it there for just a moment before quickly retracting it again. What a relief, to know that the other had not forgotten how to notice danger and react to it appropriately. Dottore had really had to hold back the urge to bite off his fingers right then and there… Honestly, he didn’t even know why he hadn’t just given in to his intrusive thoughts telling him how fun that would have been. Certainly not out of politeness or respect. …It had to be because he still needed the mora Pantalone could supply him with. Yes, exactly that had to be the reason.
“So”, Pantalone had his arms crossed, looking at him expectantly, “Care to explain why I found you sleeping in your lap, drenched in blood? I brought that bloodied coat away to get it cleaned, by the way. But you might want to pray if you ever want to have it back, I don’t think even the best soap will get those stains out again.”
Ah, good point… Before Pantalone mentioned it, Dottore hadn’t even realised that he wasn’t wearing his coat anymore. Which was probably better for the bed he was in right now. He huffed, “Care to explain why you were in my lab? You didn’t have to take me away, you know. I would have been perfectly fine on my own!”. Perhaps the fact that he was still lying in Pantalone’s bed kind of made that seem like a lie, but who cared?! Dottore certainly didn’t.
However, apparently Pantalone did, for he sighed and shook his head, “Don’t evade my question, Dottore. We all know you are not like your usual self as of late, ever since you came back from Sumeru, but this? Believe it or not, but I am somewhat worried about you!” For a second, it looked like he wanted to take back his words, but in the end, he didn’t.
And Dottore… he didn’t know what to say to that. The Regrator was worried about him? Why? He would have understood it if he said he was worried because of Dottore, but why in Teyvat would he be worried about him?
“Oh”, Dottore said smartly.
At least that brought something like a smile to the other’s face, getting rid of that frown.
“So?”, Pantalone just didn’t give up, did he?, “What happened? And don’t even bother trying to come up with an excuse. We’ve been working together for long enough that I know when you’re not telling me the whole truth. So don’t even try”.
“I was working.” There. It was the truth. Perhaps not the whole truth, but surely it had to be enough-
“You work by sleeping on the blood-covered floor? Don’t insult me like that, we both know I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”
…He should have expected that. Dottore rolled his eyes, “Why do you care?!”
He hadn’t meant to yell, (a decision supported by the way Pantalone flinched a little at his words), but, oh well, it was too late for regret now. “Why do you care?”, he tried again. This time, it did sound calmer, but now, something that was terrifyingly similar to weakness mired his tone with its disgusting, pitiful softness.
The other clearly had some sense of self preservation left in him, for he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said: “I care about this because I care about you. And, really, we’ve been working together for years now, so does that truly surprise you?”
Did it? Did it actually surprise him? …No, it didn’t. It was a well known fact that, out of all the Harbingers, Dottore and Pantalone worked together the most. Indirectly, most of the time, and only rarely side by side, but still. And even Dottore had to admit that, at least in theory, it was quite natural that they’d started caring about each other at some point. Which of course didn’t mean that he cared about the Regrator! No, definitely not. It somewhat made sense that the Regrator, a human, cared about him. But Dottore? Nope. He cared about the other’s mora, yes, and he also really disliked the idea of someone else hurting him, no matter if mentally or physically. And if he was hurt, then he should better come to him first instead of some random healer. But that didn’t have to mean that he cared about him-! It just meant that he-… He couldn’t lose his source of funding! There. That was the reason.
Dottore had to suppress a triumphant grin at having found a logical answer, because next to him, the mattress dipped down a bit as the other sat down. For a moment, Dottore was distracted by how, even in this situation, Pantalone looked like elegance and wealth personified. The god of mora himself, that foolish Geo Archon could never, the Doctor was sure of that. Pantalone just as well could have sat on a throne made of diamonds and gold. Or one made of human skulls and bones, if Dottore could pick one. The white would compliment his dark hair and clothes quite wonderfully, he was sure of it.
Pantalone, still waiting for an answer, tapped his fingertips against the mattress, one after the other and then again from the start. When Dottore concentrated, he could hear the faint sound of the tapping. For a moment or two, he did just that. It had a nice, even rhythm to it, so unlike all those messy sounds in his lab that always made his head hurt if he didn’t either listen to loud music to drown them out, or simply wear something over his ears to silence the annoying noise entirely. But this… this was almost calming. Or maybe that was just because the only way the Regrator could ever bother him was by denying his requests for funding for a new experiment. Dottore’s complaints about him, this colleague he worked with the most, and the least reluctantly, had long ago stopped being as genuine as they had been at the beginning.
Finally, he shook his head, “It does not surprise me, I think. Perhaps it should, but it doesn’t. I guess you’ve always been soft that way”.
Pantalone scoffed at that last part, but didn’t say anything against it. “So”, he said instead, “Will you tell me now what happened back there in your lab?”
“Fine”, Dottore groaned, “If it makes you stop pestering me about it-“
“No promises”, Pantalone interrupted, smirking a little, “Perhaps I will, perhaps I will not. Now stop evading my question, Doctor”.
“Well, I don’t know what else you want to hear! I already told you I was working”, he didn’t care about how frustrated and stubborn he sounded.
“That doesn’t explain what you were doing on the floor, covered in blood and I don’t know what else”, Pantalone sighed, “Did you overwork yourself again? I thought you’d managed to stop doing that…? We all know that you’re slower without your clones, you don’t have to prove yourself or anything.”
Archons- This wasn’t a conversation Dottore wanted to have while lying in someone else’s bed… He kept his eyes on the other as he stood up, now standing in front of Pantalone, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he thought about putting his mask back on, but by now that would hardly change anything. If Pantalone hadn’t already run away upon first seeing him without it, there was a high chance he wouldn’t run away later either. So he only crossed his arms as he looked down at the other, “I did not “overwork” myself. I simply… lost track of time a little, that is all. There is no need for you to involve yourself in my matters. So, if there is nothing else, I will go back to my lab now. There is still something important I have to do there.”
He was about to turn around and leave the room, when the Regrator quickly stood up, grabbing his wrist to hold him back. “What would possibly be more important than your own health?! Do you even know for how long you were asleep in here?! How many nights I had to spend on a sofa instead of my bed, because of you?!”, oh, Pantalone was angry now, “So don’t you dare disappear without any further explanation, Doctor.”
“Fine, Regrator”, Dottore hissed, “No, I do not know. Though it should not surprise me to find out that a night or two of sleeping on the sofa is enough to get you in such an awful mood. You might want to think about getting a more comfortable one. We all know you have more than enough mora for that.”
Pantalone groaned in frustration, pulling Dottore closer by grabbing a strap of his harness on his chest. That gesture, in combination with the hand still closed tightly around his wrist, was probably the most he’d been touched in at least a year. He didn’t quite know what to think about it. But… well, with the Regrator’s anger, he had bigger issues right now.
“A night or two?!”, the other laughed, though it sounded more like a cry of frustration, “Dottore, you were dead asleep for almost five days!” Was that… panic? in his voice? “You know, I wasn’t completely joking when I said I was about to report you as being in some kind of coma!”
“Oh.”, he genuinely hadn’t expected it to have been such a long time. He had to admit, it made a little more sense now that the other had been worried. Five days of sleep weren’t normal. He could be glad he wasn’t entirely human anymore, otherwise… who knew what could have happened.
“In that case… I really did not know that.”, this close, Dottore could clearly see the minute changes in the other man’s expression. He could watch his panic slowly fade away, leaving behind relief and something… even kinder than that. Softer, more fragile. Dottore didn’t want to name it, though the most fitting term already sat on the tip of his tongue, floated around at the front of his mind.
But even so, this sight… did something to him. Inside of him.
It wasn’t a big change. No, the big change had been slowly going on for months now. This was merely… the lifting of the curtain. The final revelation of the artwork of emotions which the cooperation with Pantalone, each moment they’d spent together, had created brushstroke by brushstroke in his heart.
He didn’t think much about it when he pulled his hand out of the other’s grip, only to wrap his arms around Pantalone’s waist. “I am fine now”, he said, his voice a little muffled as he spoke into the other’s silky hair, “Thanks to you, I suppose…”
Pantalone was silent for a moment, frozen in place, but then he reciprocated the hug, resting his forehead on Dottore’s shoulder. “You’re fine now”, he whispered, “but when you go back to your work, who knows how long it will take before something like this happens again? I don’t know what’s so important right now, but surely it’s no reason to deny yourself a break every now and then?”
“I need to rebuild my clones”, Dottore admitted, “I exchanged them for one of the gnoses, and at that time, the trade seemed like it would not bother me at all, but… It seems I underestimated how much that loss would affect me. Not emotionally, of course”, he chuckled a little at that, “But work is way easier with trustworthy assistants who know what they are doing.”
Pantalone looked up at him then, “That’s why you work so much? To get your clones back?”
“Precisely”
Pantalone sighed, and Dottore sighed too, holding his hand to the back of the other’s head, pushing his forehead back against his shoulder. It felt surprisingly pleasant, this hug. He’d imagined it to feel more restrictive, more dangerous. But it was just… nice. Or maybe that was only because of Pantalone, not because of the gesture itself? His last hug had been a few years ago, when one of his younger clones had managed to persuade him that he should try it. He’d not liked it at all. But this…? He held the other man a bit closer, and if he’d still been tired, he probably would have risked relaxing a little into the other’s arms.
“Dottore”, Pantalone chuckled, but it sounded nervous rather than amused, “What happened to you? Did you run out of mora again? Is that why you’re so friendly?”
No, that wasn’t it, but he’d not admit that. How would that look, if he, the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, suddenly admitted that he apparently enjoyed being close to the Regrator, number Nine, like this? That he liked holding him in his arms? He’d never be able to look the other in his eyes again.
“Just shut up, would you?”, he answered instead, though the words had no bite in them, sounding more like a gentle chiding than an insulting command, “Be happy that I like this, otherwise you would have lost your arms already.”
But Pantalone wasn’t impressed, and there was only a confused amusement in his voice, “You started this, Dottore. Don’t blame me for it.”
As if he didn’t know that… But no matter how strange this was, he couldn’t let go. Not even when the other tried to push him away a little, groaning in frustration before simply accepting his fate and practically melting back into Dottore’s hug. And, oh, that made him feel so wonderfully warm inside, just where his heart beat in his chest.
“So, if it’s not about mora…”, Pantalone went on after a moment of comfortable silence, “Then why are you acting like this? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but… I can’t just not expect you to have any ulterior motives”. Once more, he sounded amused at the last part, though the confusion didn’t leave his voice. And Dottore… Dottore just held him closer, taking in that familiar metallic scent of mora, which in a way clang onto him as well, though in the form of mora’s bloody counterpart.
Perhaps, one day, it could be the same way with the Regrator and him. Maybe they could be each other’s counterparts, equals, partners. Or, perhaps, in a way, they already were. The hug alone was almost enough to prove that there was something about Pantalone and him that he would never want to have with anyone else. Something that he didn’t want the other to have with anyone else, the greedy, jealous part of his mind added.
“I am acting “like this”, Regrator, because-“, and then he hesitated. Why did he act like this? Like-… Like those Akademiya students who didn’t study enough because they would rather spend their time in someone else’s arms. Or in someone else’s bed. Why, after all those years of pleasant solitude and reason above feelings, why did it have to be now that his heart awoke from this coma he’d put it in?
But… were those really questions that required an answer? Wasn’t it already obvious what was going on here?
Dottore loosened his hold on the other, but only enough so that he could look Pantalone in the eyes. He took a moment to appreciate the beautifully confused and curious look on his face (a moment he definitely didn’t need to gather courage or confidence!). But he knew he had to answer the other’s question at some point. So better sooner than later.
“I’m acting like this because I-“ How could this be so difficult?! Even brain surgery on an infant was easier (and it was definitely not easy at all!). But it made sense, somehow. This wasn’t something for which he’d ever had the time or opportunity in the past to practice. Sure, there had been that thing with this young woman in Sumeru, but, really, that had been nothing in comparison to this. Dottore didn’t even remember when he last talked about his feelings in such a manner!
A rare twist of panic settled in his mind. The fact that there was no reasonable explanation for his hesitation and worries only made it worse. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say, and at the same time he didn’t know why he couldn’t say it.
He could see the Regrator open his mouth to say something, but he- he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to have his already chaotic thoughts be disturbed even more. And since his arms were still loosely wrapped around the other man, the only way to stop him… was to talk first.
He didn’t give himself any more time to think, simply closed his eyes and voiced the thought that was the most prevalent in his mind: “I like you, Pantalone. And I do not know how to deal with that.” And those words were so true and right, they burned his tongue as they rushed out of him in a single breath.
Dottore knew his eyes had to be comically wide open as he looked at the Regrator, half shocked, half relieved that he’d said it. And Pantalone… he stared back, lips parted in a silent gasp. He looked at the Doctor, for one second, for two seconds, for three. And then, when Dottore was about to let go, turn around, leave, run away and lick the wounds this conversation had inflicted on his heart, Pantalone smiled at him with a look on his face that, as far as Dottore knew, was reserved for only his mountains of mora, for the numbers with all those zeros in his ledgers.
He looked at the Doctor as if he was a priceless treasure, a new kind of wealth he’d earned himself. And yet, it was nothing he’d ever seen before on Pantalone’s face. A part of him hoped he’d never see it again in a different context, hoped that this expression would be for only him.
Dottore could feel the Regrator’s hand on his cheek, his thumb just below his eye, and he involuntarily held his breath at the suddenness of the touch. He could only watch in wonder as Pantalone looked at him, his expression softening as if he had remembered that the Doctor wasn’t just some valuable artefact, but another person.
“I’m glad”, he said, and that affirmation was enough for Dottore to exhale again, relieved that he hadn’t made a complete fool out of himself like that. But the other wasn’t done yet, “Because I like you too. Even though you make it almost impossible to do so at times. But still… I like you. And I hated you for that, did you know? At the beginning, I despised you for the weakness I felt when it came to you. But that didn’t stop you, did it? At first, you only came to me when you needed more funds, but somehow you started visiting even when there was no reason to.” Pantalone looked at him, contemplative but with a smile that was so much more genuine than the one he showed to the rest of the world, “I grew used to it. I started looking forward to it. So, maybe… Maybe you can understand how worried I was when I didn’t see you for such a long time. How worried I was when you slept for almost five days.” And, oh, he really did sound worried…
Dottore wanted to say something. He had no idea what he could say, what could possibly make the other understand that he was sorry, without him having to say that he was sorry. But Pantalone’s hand on his cheek moved down a little, a finger coming to rest in front of his lips, sealing them shut without the Regrator having to say a word. Sure, the Doctor easily could have bitten off the finger, but how could he possibly do that right now? And to Pantalone of all people. He was a madman, sure, but he was no monster. Or, maybe he was, that depended entirely on who answered this question, but that did not matter right now at all. What mattered was that he kept his mouth shut and let the other speak instead.
“I realise quite well”, Pantalone continued, “that right now, I am telling you things I should not tell anyone else, because each word could be used against me. I gave you all the proof you might need to call me weak, all the proof you might need to come to the conclusion that you do not want to have anything to do with me. But… I don’t think you will do that. Because you feel just like I do, don’t you? You admitted it yourself, and it didn’t sound like something you said only to give me some kind of false sense of security.”
Pantalone’s finger left his lips, but his hand was still on his cheek. It felt nice. Comfortable. Dottore tightened his hold on the other again, just a little bit.
“I was serious”, he almost didn’t recognise his own voice, too soft and devoid of venom for his ears, “I like you, Pantalone. Probably more than I like anyone else. No, definitely more than I like anyone else. And, as unbelievable as that may sound, I trust you. At least to some extent. So, when you say that this is what you feel for me… then I believe you. And I won’t use it against you”, he chuckled, “It would be stupid of me to do so. After all, you have all the information you need to do the same to me”. And Pantalone chuckled as well, smiling in such a genuine way that Dottore lost his breath for a second.
Perhaps, his earlier idea had been more fitting and realistic than he might have guessed. Perhaps they really were each other’s counterparts, equals, partners, like mora and blood. And when their lips touched in a kiss that felt like it connected not only their bodies but their entire beings into one, Dottore could have sworn it tasted just as metallic.