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It was always Dottore's room that they met in for occasions like this. Soft ones. It was interesting to think that the more psychotic and messy of mind out of the both of them had such a quiet, nice atmosphere in his quarters. It was lived in, unlike Pantalone's, as his was full of artefacts and gold and diamonds galore- but he was careful and clinical about his surroundings. Everything had its place and there was no room for error. That's how the lab was, to an extent, but the Doctor's quarters were much more comfortable. The only permanent fixtures that he just could not stand being out of place were his collection of bones, and even then he was lenient when it came to the banker.
Pantalone slipped his shoes off, leaving the loafers by the doorway and padding into the dimly lit room. An oil lamp was in the corner opposite of where Dottore was, puzzlingly enough. How endearing of him. He was hunched over in a chair, eyes narrowed and fingers dancing over the peices to a jigsaw puzzle. A phonograph was playing music near his bed, which was unmade. The Doctor said nothing as Pantalone settled over his shoulders, draping his lithe form across his back. Dottore's sweater was soft to the touch, and the banker idly ran his hand back and forth over his sleeve.
"You should move the lamp," he murmured softly. "It's no good for your eyes."
He merely hummed in response and tilted his head to press a brush of his lips against Pantalone's jaw. The puzzle was coming along nicely, a stained-glass pattern with a woman in a bonnet. The colours were dulled from age, and Dottore put it together with near muscle memory.
"Ah, you're stressed."
The Doctor scoffed and shifted in his chair, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head, around Pantalone's neck. "What gave you that impression, you insufferable man?"
He ran his hands over his sweater pleasantly, smiling softly. Not his fake smile, a real one that turns down in the edges and favoured the left side. "You're dong the stress puzzle. It's always fascinating to watch you almost frantically put this thing together." Moving so he was no longer tangled in Dottore's arms, he moved in front of him instead, pushing the chair away from the desk. "Ask me why I'm here."
"I already know why you're here," he responded. Pantalone found it painfully fetching when Dottore spoke so genuinely, like he couldn't comprehend small talk or rhetorical questions, or even just humouring the banker for the sake of it. "But please, go ahead and tell me."
Pantalone rolled his eyes and tugged his hand instead, pulling him to the bed and collapsing. His lover sat down next to him and sighed playfully, letting Pantalone lay his head in his lap. Running his fingers through the bankers hair, Dottore offered a smile. Pantalone was so enamoured by him, it wasn't even funny. Just seeing him look down like that, soft music playing and golden shadows across his face. He was lovely.
"I just want you," he said softly, sighing happily and hugging around his waist.
The Doctor tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Sexually, or physically?"
"Just physically."
Dottore nodded and continued stroking his hair, humming along to the music. Pantalone could feel the slight nervous energy radiating, so he rubbed his lower back softly, slipping his hand under his sweater to lightly trace shapes and rub his warm skin. It seemed to work a bit, as his leg stopped bouncing. They sat there without speaking, in happy near silence, until a few minutes later, when Pantalone spoke up:
"Dance?"
And so they danced. Swaying gently in the middle of Dottore's room, hugging each other. Helped burn off the nervous energy while keeping the contact Pantalone craved, and it was perfection. The beat of the Doctor's heart was calming while he pressed his ear against his chest, and his humming was light and sweet, head resting against Pantalone's shoulders. The banker wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew he wouldn't answer unless Dottore brought it up first, so he just said small nothings to try and distract him.
"Care to tell me about your latest experiment?"
"Do you remember last year during Christmas when Pierro became intoxicated?"
"What is the weather in Sumeru this time of year?"
Dottore answered each question calmly and at some times, excitedly. His heart beat slowed as he spoke, and soon they were just standing in the middle of the room hugging, eyes shut and murmuring to each other, until the time came where duty called and Pantalone had to leave again. The comfortable atmosphere slowly dissipated and there was a lingering kiss before the door shut.