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Dottore sighed heavily as he loosened his cravat, boots thudding heavily against the ground as he walked back to his room in the Palace. He’d just finished a ten-hour shift and he was utterly exhausted. It was late evening, nearly nine, and he was slightly worried he’d be making it back too late.
Lately he’d been trying to make it back by seven at the latest, but both of his segments were on missions leaving a serious deficit at the lab. His subordinates were largely not qualified for the end-of-day clean up, much as he wished the fools were, and Feofan was on vacation of all things.
Finally, he managed to make it back to his quarters. He tugged his cravat off entirely, rubbing at his weary eyes under his mask before entering using the biological scanner he’d installed. Inside, he set both mask and cravat on the side table at the door and removed his metal boots, tucking them safely in the little cabinet on the other side against the wall. Similarly, his mask was set in the drawer of the side table which was then locked.
Taking his cravat he headed to his room, the one closest to the door, and tossed it on the bed. Changing quickly into a softer buttoned shirt and more relaxed pair of pants he finished it off by tying his hair back save for one curly piece that say over his shoulder.
In just socked feet he rambles back to the kitchen, glancing around to see a single plate left out, covered. He smiled softly, turning away from it for now to wander into the living room. Seeing nobody inside he heads back towards the library. As he gets closer he begins to hear voices. One older and scolding, the other younger and petulant.
He pushes past the beaded curtain in the doorway, small bells tinkering with the motion. Two faces turn towards him, one lighting up in glee and the other paling slightly.
The older woman, he’s fairly certain her name is Ana, stands straight. Her wrinkled hands are clasped tightly in front of her, a hint of fear on her face at his arrival. Beside her stands a little girl in a dirty blue dress, her face and hair smeared in ash and soot.
He glances at Ana briefly before turning back to the girl.
“And what happened here?” he asks after a moment, voice low and chilled.
Ana stiffens, opening her mouth to reply, but the girl beats her to it. She runs towards him, sidestepping the couch to hug his legs, getting soot all over his pants.
“Baba!” she cries, her hands fisted in the fabric as she presses her face to his thigh.
He smiles, patting her hair and kneeling down to her height.
“Darling, why are you so dirty?” he asks again, voice softer.
“We were playing hide and seek!” she informs him happily, the nanny behind her nodding.
“She had thought, um, the hearth was a nice hiding place.”
He frowns, glancing at the pried open fire gate. With gentle hands he removes Amirah from his leg and places his hands on her shoulders.
“Amirah…” he begins, disappointment leaking into his tone.
Her reaction is immediate. Head bowed, shoulders hunched.
“What are our rules?”
“Don’t get into places I’m not supposed to…” she mumbles, her bare feet shuffling on the rug.
Dottore sighs, brushing her chin with a knuckle.
“And why do we have that rule?”
“It’s dangerous for me…”
He nods, brushing hair out of her face. Her carmine eyes stare blankly at his knee and he tilts her chin up to start wiping away soot with his thumb.
“Correct. We don’t want you getting hurt, right? Even if you can’t feel the fire in the hearth, the logs might still be smoldering,” he explains, using his sleeve now to wipe her face.
Amirah nods slowly, her hands wringing in front of her.
“S-Smo- Smod…?”
“They might still be hot,” Dottore backtracks, “Smoldering.”
“Smod- Smodering,” she repeats, earning a fond small.
“S-mol-der-ing.”
“Sm-Smol- Smoldering?”
“Correct,” he praises, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “My little genius.”
She grins, opening her arms and throwing them around his neck, tumbling into his hold.
“Like you, baba!”
He chuckles, lifting her into his arms and standing as she squeals happily. He dismisses Ana with a wave and nod, the woman eager to scurry out. He leaves the library after a moment too, carrying Amirah up the stairs to her bathroom.
“You’re so nice to your baba,” he says, smiling as she tucks herself against his shoulder, her hand finding that one lock of hair as always.
“‘Cause baba’s the best,” she responds resolutely, not a shred of hesitation in her voice.
“Hm, I wonder if your tone will change when I tell you you need a bath now..?” he teases, feeling her head pop up.
“No! I took a bath yesterday!”
“And you still decided to roll in the firepit. You’re covered in soot, darling,” he replies calmly.
She pouts, whining and kicking her feet against his stomach.
“Nooo, baba! I don’t wanna bath, I wanna play hide and seek more!”
Dottore stifles an annoyed sigh, opening the door to the bathroom and setting her on the sink counter so she can’t run off.
“You should have thought of that before breaking the rules.”
She whines louder, feet still kicking as crocodile tears start forming.
“Amirah you’re too old for tantrums,” he warns, gathering a towel and her pyjamas.
“It’s not a tant-tum!” she protests, impediment more prominent in her ire, “I wanna- comp- compo- uh…”
“Compromise,” he reminds her, “and no. You have to take a bath.”
“No! I wanna comp-promise!”
He clicks his tongue, an annoyed gust of air leaving his nose.
“And what, pray tell, could you possibly try to compromise?”
“If- if I don’t take a bath I’ll… I’ll give you two hugs tonight instead of one!”
Dottore blinks, before sighing, a fond smile forming on his face without his permission.
“Darling that’s not a compromise, that’s bribery.”
“Oh. What’s a comp-promise?”
“Compromise,” he corrects,” A compromise is when two people make an initial sacrifice in what they want in order for both to be happy.”
“Comp- Compro- romise. That’s not what I wanted,” she frowns, brow furrowing as she tries to think.
“Hm. Well, what if you told me what you wanted and then maybe I can tell you what it is?” he offers, relieved she’s not about to start a tantrum.
“Um…” she thinks for a moment, face scrunched up before perks up, grinning once more, “We play hide and seek again but if I win I don’t take a bath!”
Dottore hums, fingers tapping on the counter.
“Mm… why should I let you have your way after you broke the rules?” he asks, gently probing.
Amirah pauses, carmine eyes staring through him as she thinks.
“Because… because you get to choose what you want if you win, and I have to listen! It’s a fair deal!”
Dottore hums, a small smile on his face. She’s been spending far too much time with Feofan.
“Very well,” he concedes, “On one condition.”
Amirah nods seriously, asking, “What is it?”
“We compromise. If I win, you take a bath. If you win, I at least get to wipe your face with a damp cloth because otherwise you’ll get your sheets and stuffed animals dirty.”
“Hmm… okay!”
He smiles at her eagerness and takes her off the counter, setting her on her feet.
“Alright then. One round. You have until I count to fifty to hide,” he says firmly, crossing his arms.
“Sixty!”
“Not a debate.”
She huffs but doesn’t try to argue. He pats her head, nudging her towards the door.
“Come now, one game. I’m indulging you.”
“Yay!” she cries, darting towards the door. On her tiptoes she grabs the handle and says, “No peeking!”
She slams it shut, a bottle falling off the edge of the tub from the force. It squeaks open half a second later and a meek apology comes through the crack.
“Sorry, baba… I didn’t mean to slam it, it was more closed than I thought…”
He sighs, wanting to scold her but not finding it in himself to.
“Just be careful,” he says instead, watching as she closes it much softer this time.
He shakes his head, leaning against the counter as he waits a mere thirty seconds when she calls out, “I’m hiding!”
He laughs quietly to himself, leaving the bathroom to meander through the house. His sharp eyes scanned for disturbances as he went around, already knowing all of her favorite spots.
He checks the living room, behind the chair thats angled in a way shes unaware you can see her from the doorway. Not there. He checks the pantry, expecting to find his little mouse behind a crate of tea. Not there either. He smiles, closing the pantry and taking slow, measured steps to the library. Her final favorite spot is behind the couch of the library, squeezed into the tiny crawl space between it and the wall.
He pushes past the beads, glancing behind the couch. He frowns when he sees she isn’t there. Looking around, it doesn’t seem as if she’s in here at all. He didn’t recall hearing the distinctive bells that cover each beaded doorway, which makes him wonder if she’d figured out how to move them silently or was still in the hall or her bedroom.
He back tracks, finding no sign of her in the hall. His socked feet creak against the old floors as he passes through to her room, flicking on the light to see.
Absolutely nowhere. His frown deepens.
“Amirah,” he calls, voice slightly tense.
No response.
Surely…? No, he would not entertain that thought. Not in the Palace, certainly not when he was here.
“Amirah,” he says again, tone firmer,” Come out here.”
The only thing he hears is a soft creak, coming from the hallway. He steps back out, eyes scanning. Still nothing.
“Amirah,” he repeats, more urgently, “I am not interested in this game anymore, come here right now.”
Behind him, back in her room, there’s another soft creak and as he glances back his eyes widen to see a floorboard pop up and get pushed to the side. He tenses, but it drains out of him when he sees a dusty mop of bright blue hair come up a second later.
“Baba…?” she asks, attuned to his tone of voice.
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and immediately steps over in a few strides, lifting her up and out of the floor. Her hands curl around his shoulders as he hugs her, one hand gently placed on the back of her head.
“Did I scare you?” she whispers, guilt laced in her voice, “I’m sorry…”
Dottore shakes his head, sighing heavily.
“It’s- Let’s just not hide in places like that, hm?” he says softly, rubbing her back, “You’re putting your poor baba at a disadvantage.”
Amirah nods, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Her other hand comes up to grip the stray lock of hair over his shoulder.
“I’ll take a bath baba. I didn’t want to scare you, I just wanted to win.”
“I know,” he assures, glancing at the loose board one last time before walking them to the bathroom, “But you also have to consider others sometimes. Think about how I felt when I couldn’t find you, I was worried. I thought something might’ve happened to you.”
Amirah’s fist tightens around his hair, her face pressing more insistently against his shoulder.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, petting her hair, “Just be more mindful, okay?”
“Okay baba,” Amirah sniffles, leaning back to wipe away silent tears. He runs a thumb across her face gently, setting her down on the counter.
As he helps her undress she asks quietly, “Can I stay with you tonight…?”
Dottore softens, lightly cupping her cheek as he presses a kiss to her forehead.
“Of course. Come on, let’s take a bath.”
After a quick rinse Dottore dries her off with a clean, fluffy towel and carries her to her room and lets her dress in her simple, blue pyjamas. She takes his hand after, tiny fingers curled around his large palm as she rests her head against his leg.
He squeezes her hand gently, leading her to his room for bed. He lifts her onto the mattress, watching fondly as she shuffles around under the covers, finding her spot.
She pats her hand against his pillow when he takes too long getting in and he chuckles, pulling back the covers to lay down. She curls up on her own pillow, closing her dull eyes and mumbling out, “Good night baba.”
“Good night, my omri,” he responds, tucking a piece of her hair out of her face, watching fondly as she falls asleep.