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He'd thought the SAW movies were stupid before Childe insisted they all watch them, but now that he'd seen them, Dottore had to admit he was rather fond of, if nothing else, the machinery. He smiled down at his almost complete and entirely functional replica of the reverse bear trap– perhaps he'd take Childe out into the woods to test it on watermelons later.
His happy musings were interrupted by a pounding at the door.
“I know you're in there,” Sandrone yelled.
“How did you get my address?”
“I asked Columbina, who asked Childe, who asked Pantalone,” she said. “Anyways. That's not important right now. Check twitter, any account.”
He only had to glance his phone because he had notifications for Pop Base on. Unfortunately, his work on the reverse bear trap had taken him offline for a few hours, so he hadn't seen any news.
Time spent machining was never wasted in his eyes, but he did regret that he did not see this particular notification earlier– “Charlie Kirk has died at the age of 31 after being shot, Donald Trump announces.”
The Internet, certainly, was abuzz right now, but Dottore couldn't help but worry. Was he too the kind of person whose death people would celebrate? Was he to live his entire life trying so hard to appeal to one group of people that people on the opposite side wished him dead?
… Was, it, perhaps, best to be honest with himself? The thought terrified and exhilarated him.
“Stop frowning, idiot,” Sandrone said with an odd break in her tone, as if she had meant to say something else and decided on idiot instead at the last minute.
In any case, he stopped frowning.
“Let's go,” she said with no preamble, turning and walking towards her white Tesla Model S. “We're taking Pulonia.”
Dottore froze, sweat running down the back of his neck. He hated people who named their cars, and especially hated Sandrone and her car.
“We are NOT taking your car. Tell me where we're going and I'll drive.”
“Is that because my car makes you throw up?”
“No,” Dottore said, even though that was exactly why. To fair, it wasn't just her– he hated all Teslas, and ever since The Incident had refused to ride in any of them.
“Bitch,” Sandrone responded, but nevertheless changed course and headed for his red Fiat 500.
“You forgot to tell me where we're going,” he said, sliding in the driver's seat.
Instead of responding, she immediately grabbed the aux cord. After a moment, the sounds of Addison Rae began to fill his car.
This was another thing he didn't like about Sandrone. Addison Rae was never going to be the next Taylor Swift. Hell– she wasn't even going to be the next Sabrina Carpenter, or Charli XCX. He wished everyone, especially Sandrone, would stop trying to make her a thing.
“Crumbl,” Sandrone said.
“What?”
“Let's go to Crumbl. You like it, don't you?” she asked with a sneer.
He decided not to deign her question with a response, but did start heading towards Crumbl. He'd wanted to check out the Pumpkin Cake Cookie anyways.
~
They soon arrived. Dottore parked, fortunate to get a spot out front, and killed the engine, very happy to turn off Addison Rae. Sandrone walked off, leaving him to lock the car and follow after her.
He entered the store to find her already pondering the menu– several options did look good this week.
“Say,” she said. “Do you think the caramel on the Salted Caramel Cheesecake Cookie or the chocolate in the Brownie Batter Cookie looks more like blood? Actually, you haven't seen the video, so I guess you wouldn't know.”
Dottore absolutely did know but said nothing. Sandrone ended up deciding on the Salted Caramel Cheesecake Cookie, and ordered while he got his Pumpkin Cake Cookie.
“Holy shit, are you a rewards member?” She asked, which he also ignored.
They moved to the side to wait while a gray-haired employee he didn't recognize got their orders.
“Are you two a couple?” They asked.
Dottore visibly flinched, and Sandrone gave him side eye for some reason.
“Ok good! I was only asking because what kind of boyfriend doesn't pay for his girlfriend's Crumbl? Shameful, I say.”
“Can you stop talking now?” Dottore asked, the thought of dating Sandrone almost as nauseating as being in her Tesla.
Sandrone left, and he followed her out quite happily.
“Hey, let's find somewhere to sit,” she said ominously, as was her habit.
Dottore just wanted to eat his cookie, so he nodded and they crossed the street in the direction of a nearby mall. He went to the Pop Mart at this mall somewhat frequently, and so knew they had outdoor seating. Many a labubu had he unboxed out there.
After a few minutes of walking, they found an open seat. Dottore excitedly opened his box, only to find that the frosting had melted enough to cover every inch of the cookie. Hesitantly, he took off his gloves, and tried to grab the cookie while getting as little frosting on his fingers as possible. To his horror, the bottom of the cookie was partially raw, and so not even did he not succeed but now he also had raw cookie on his fingers.
Nevertheless, he took a bite. The frosting was very sweet, enough to overpower any flavor added by the chocolate chips on top. The pumpkin of the cookie, too, was understated, and its flavor was quickly subsumed by the sweet glaze. Overall it was like a 3.5/5.
“... Are you even listening?”
“No,” he said, not adding sorry because he wasn't sorry.
“I asked you a question,” she said.
“Well, I guess you need to repeat it.”
She sighed, and set down her cookie.
“Do you know you're gay?”
He nearly dropped his cookie. Fortunately, the frosting had somewhat glued it to his fingers, and so he was able to set it down gently instead.
Dottore looked down at his fingers, covered in sticky white frosting, and felt sick.
“... Yeah,” he said quietly.
He'd known for a while– his whole life, maybe, but nobody had ever liked him the way he was. He'd tried to bottle it up, to hide it, enough that he had almost fooled himself into thinking it wasn't there, but for all his efforts he has never been able to change who he was.
“Thank god,” said Sandrone. “I was worried the situation was dire.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, that's why I put this off for so long,” she said, opening her phone. It looked like she might be texting someone, which Dottore hoped wasn't the case. More importantly–
“What do you mean, put this off for so long?”
“Oh, yeah. Columbina asked me to do this like, two years ago? I think Pantalone asked her to figure it out, but I don't know if someone else asked him.”
“You mean to tell me,” he asked, exasperated, “that all of you have been speculating on my sexuality for two entire years?”
“Uh huh,” she said casually, scrolling through twitter.
He sat there for a moment, cookie frosting on his fingers, speechless.
“Oh, look at this,” she said, laughing. “Apparently they hired an Etsy witch to curse Charlie Kirk two days ago.”
“Wasn't that Signora?”