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Dottore blinked at the ceiling.
His neck hurt. He tried to turn his head, and an ugly crack resonated in his lab in answer. He blinked again. Had he… fell asleep ?
He shook his head, straightening from where he was smeared on the cold floor. His head bumped against his lab table, and he groaned. Why was he sleeping against his fucking table, in the first place ?
He finally stood up, rolling his neck, and yawned. He had shut down. Again. He sighed.
Dottore hated sleeping. It was such a waste of time. He might have almost reached immortality at this point, but it was utterly useless if it was to waste time sleeping, or eating, for all it mattered. He had greater things to do, important experiments waiting for him. He couldn't waste his precious time with something as trivial as sleep.
He yawned again.
He had spent years developing numerous enhancing potions to avoid this problem, but apparently, his mortal body required sleep no matter what. He always shot down at some point, usually once every two weeks. He groaned again. It was better than nothing, but still not perfect, not optimal. And he absolutely loathed being imperfect.
"Fucking hell." he muttered lowly as he stretched his arms over his head. Lifting his head, he checked the clock on his wall. 11 pm. Then he frowned.
"Hey."
His omega build turned toward him. The fucker hadn't bothered waking him up, probably too entranced into whatever project it was working on at the moment. Dottore couldn't honestly blame it : his segments thought like him, after all. They were bound to be as focused as him when working.
"Which day is it ?" he asked, rubbing his neck again. Fucking hell, couldn't that fucker have at least put him on a bed, or something ? His neck hurt like hell.
"Saturday."
Omega build didn't even look at him, it's eyes focused on the vial in it's hand.
Dottore blinked again at the realization. He has slept for almost two days, spread out on his own lab's floor. What a disgrace.
Then his eyes widened. Wasn't there a harbinger meeting on friday ? He didn't even need to check, he knew there had been one. His memory had never failed him before, it wasn't going to start now. He sighed. Well, fuck.
He straightened his clothes with a scowl. He really wasn't looking forward to wasting even more time. But it wasn't like he had a choice : hierarchy existed for a reason, even for some being as strong as the Harbingers. And he doubted Pierro would accept "too cranky" as an excuse to miss a justification.
He leaved his lab with a sigh, immediately missing the somewhat warmth present inside. Must this palace really be so damn cold all the time ? He was freezing, he was cranky, and he was tired. He would have to take another shot of the enhancing potion quickly if he didn't want to repeat this sorry scene soon.
Luckily for him, Pierro's office wasn't far from his lab. He knocked on the door, trying and failing to smooth his scowl.
"You can enter, Dottore."
He should have been surprised, but he wasn't. It wasn't the first time he missed a meeting, though it usually was for less pathetic reasons. Pierro was used to his antics, and had been for a while now. So, he pushed the door open.
The office of the leader of the Harbingers was as empty as he remembered it, and, if possible, even colder than the corridor. He shivered. Pierro was sitting at his desk, scribbling on some papers. Probably reports for their banker. He didn't lift his head when Dottore entered.
"I came to apologize for my absence at the last meeting, Jester."
No reaction. He kept writing whatever he was reporting. Dottore took a step closer.
"I fell asleep and missed it."
The Jester's hand stilled for a second, before he nodded. He still didn't look at him.
"You fell asleep ?"
There was surprise in Pierro's voice, and Dottore couldn't help but smile bitterly at it. Even for his leader, this possibility seemed far-fetched. How disgraceful. He simply nodded in answer, though Pierro couldn't see it.
There was a silence for a while, neither of them talking. The Jester was still writing his reports, or whatever, and the Doctor was waiting, rather eagerly, for a sign that he could finally leave. He needed that shot quickly, or he might as well pass out in the corridor leading to his lab. He yawned again.
At the sound, Pierro finally lifted his head, crooking it slightly.
"You fell asleep." he repeated, though this time there was no question in his tone. He had accepted the fact, as easily as he accepted every other antics Dottore could have brought him over the years.
The Doctor nodded once again.
"I did."
Pierro stared at him for maybe a minute, then he looked back at his reports, picking up where he had left them.
"Take a seat."
Dottore raised an eyebrow, but didn't balk. He knew better than questioning Pierro at that point. With another yawn, he strolled closer to the broader man, contemplating sitting on the chair on the other side of his desk for a second. Then he shook his head, and planted himself beside his leader.
He knew Pierro would indulge him. He had before, and he had no reason to stop now. Plus, he was freezing, and tired. Surely, a bit of vulnerability would sway the older man's concerns away ?
He was right, because Pierro almost immediately moved his chair back, his eyes still not sparing him a glance. He never did. It was quite usual for them, after all. He said nothing, but the invitation was clear for Dottore. He let himself flop down the Jester's thighs, sighing softly as his body finally encountered some warmth. His eyes lazily read the papers Pierro was working on, and he mentally congratulated himself for guessing right. They were indeed reports for the Regrator, Pantalone.
"What did I miss ?" he asked, letting his head fall against Pierro's shoulder.
The movement and the sound of his pen against the paper were incredibly soothing. So soothing that he almost missed it when Pierro put an arm around him, letting his free hand rest on his hip. He yawned again.
"Nothing too important, luckily. La Signora sent a letter, reporting her progress in Liyue…"
He nodded along as the Jester recalled the meeting for him, crackling softly as he mentioned Tartaglia's apparently growing fondness for the disguised Morax, but otherwise staying quiet. Pierro's voice was deep and throaty, and his chest was rumbling against his side as he spoke. His hand was warm against his clothed hip, just like the rest of him, and even in his thin lab coat, Dottore felt suddenly immune to the characteristic freezing weather of Snezhnaya.
He hadn't realized Pierro had stopped talking, nor that he had closed his eyes, until he felt his mask being removed from his scarred face. His scarlet eyes shot open, immediately focusing on the Jester's hand. He blinked furiously, his own fingers reaching for his mask, when Pierro discarded it on his desk.
"You can't sleep with it on."
Dottore raised an eyebrow, biting back a certainly childish counter-argument, as his tired brain tried to analyze the Jester's words. Then he let himself fall back against him, huffing.
"Who said I was sleeping here ? I have more important things to do."
Pierro's chest rumbled against his side once again as he snorted, almost condescendingly. But his hand was still on his hip, still as warm as before, and Dottore realized he couldn't really bring himself to care about wasting time anymore. How pathetic. Curse him for still experiencing mortal pleasures, such as warmth and comfort.
"I said it."
He knew he should have at least huffed again, or maybe rolled his eyes, but he didn't. Pierro wasn't even looking at him, focused on his reports, and his thumb was now softly rubbing his hip bone through his clothes. Dottore sighed, giving up. He made a mental note to remind himself to be more productive later as he let his eyes close once again, relaxing in Pierro's hold.
He missed his leader's fond smile as he did.
"You can rest now, Zandik."