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Il Dottore sat in his office equipped with medical gloves and a surgical mask, holding a syringe in his hand. There was a knock on the door. Who would possibly seek an audience with him at this hour of the night? “Entry denied,” he called.
“Even for me?” The reply came in the voice of Regrator.
“…Come in.”
The door opened. “Good evening, Zandik.”
Il Dottore nodded in his direction without looking up from his desk. “Feofan.” Regrator stepped toward the Doctor’s desk. Il Dottore glanced up at him. “You’ve come at a bad time. You’ll have to wait until I’m finished.”
“Has there ever been a bad time to see you?” Pantalone sat in a chair in the corner of the room and watched as the Doctor’s gloved hand raised the syringe to his own forearm. “But is this not a bit hypocritical, Zandik? Just yesterday, you chastised me for smoking.” The Doctor paused and looked up at Pantalone. “Is this where our budget has been going?” Regrator smiled and gestured toward the syringe.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only medicine.” Il Dottore directed his gaze back toward the syringe and raised it to his arm again. “Stop distracting me.”
Regrator giggled. “I’m only joking, Zandik.” But he stayed silent as the Doctor continued his work. Il Dottore took a deep breath and injected the liquid into his vein. He stood and dropped the needle into a bin labeled for the disposal of sharp objects, which was hung on the wall of his office. “Quite a large dose, is it not?”
“A typical dose in a large volume,” the Doctor replied.
“A medicine for the Doctor. What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?” Regrator was typically at the receiving end of the Doctor’s injections, and he rarely saw him administer treatments to himself.
“It’s only a painkiller.” The Doctor disposed of his gloves and sat back down at his desk.
“You must pardon my ignorance, as I’m only a patient, but I was under the impression that those typically come in the form of pills.”
“Yes, but this will take effect faster.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain was demanding enough to warrant an immediate delivery of the drugs.
Pantalone approached the desk and stood behind the Doctor’s chair. “What has caused you such pain, my love?” He placed his hands on the Doctor’s shoulders. In the privacy of his office and the security of Pantalone’s presence, il Dottore did not wear the mask that typically covered the upper half of his face, but he did leave the surgical mask over his mouth, covering the gap in his teeth.
Il Dottore sighed and closed his eyes. His sharp teeth were regenerative, similar to those of a shark, and they occasionally shed to make way for a new tooth to sprout through the gums. “I have a new tooth growing in. This process, though necessary, is always painful.”
Pantalone massaged his shoulders. “Then perhaps I could…” He leaned down and kissed the side of the Doctor’s face, where it was not covered by the surgical mask. “…distract you from the pain.”
The Doctor turned his chair to face him. “You are most welcome to try.”
Regrator pulled the mask down and kissed his lips softly. “It may not be as effective a remedy as your medications, but I believe my presence will bring you some comfort.” He brushed the Doctor’s hair out of his face.
“I would choose your presence over any medication,” the Doctor mumbled. He stood up. “The medicine will set in soon.”
“Then I will comfort you until then.” He wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s neck and kissed him again. Despite the pain, il Dottore’s body relaxed under his companion’s touch.
“I hope you will stay even after the medicine takes effect.” He wrapped his arms around Pantalone’s waist.
“I could never deny your request.”
Il Dottore sighed and rested his head against his shoulder. His body was beginning to feel heavy. “The medication will cause some drowsiness soon. I told you now was an inconvenient time to visit me.”
“There has never been an inconvenient time to see you.” Pantalone combed his fingers through the Doctor’s hair. As time passed, the Doctor leaned more heavily against his body. He smiled. “Perhaps now is a good time for you to retire to your quarters. I will walk you there.” The Doctor nodded and stood up straight.
“I can walk just fine on my own, Feofan.” He pulled the mask back over his nose and mouth. “But you are welcome to accompany me.” He picked up the mask that typically covered the upper portion of his face, and he fixed it to his head.
Pantalone’s eyes narrowed in a bright smile. “Very well. Watch your step, now.” They walked together down the hall.
“We can cut through the courtyard and get there faster,” the Doctor noted.
Pantalone nodded. “Indeed we can. Perhaps I would rather the walk be longer, though.”
“You know that you are always welcome to stay in my residence. There’s no need to make me walk farther just to spend more time by my side.” The Doctor opened the door to the courtyard.
“You always see right through me.” Pantalone giggled. “Very well, then. I wouldn’t deny a chance to see your face under the night sky, in any case.” He reached for the Doctor’s hand, but it moved away before he could grasp it.
“Not now, Feofan.” His eyes scanned the surrounding environment. “You never know who may be watching.”
Pantalone sighed. “I do not understand why you insist on being so secretive, but we will do it your way. As long as I can feel your touch in the privacy of your home, I will be most satisfied, and I have never known you to deny me that.” They walked through the courtyard, their path illuminated by the moonlight. Pantalone often glanced at the Doctor. He felt a twinge of disappointment that the Doctor’s face was completely covered, denying him the opportunity to see his eyes under the soft light of the night sky, but he entranced him nonetheless.
When they arrived at the Doctor’s living quarters, the side effects of the medicine had rendered his movements lethargic. He unlocked the door and walked inside. As soon as the door was shut behind them, he took Pantalone’s hand into his own. “I apologize for making you wait.”
“You are forgiven.” Regrator smiled and guided him to his bedroom. “It seems it would have been much more convenient to administer the medication to yourself here in the first place, no? I would be concerned that you may endanger yourself walking home alone in this state.”
The Doctor sat down on his bed with his legs hanging off the edge. “I intended to sleep in my office.”
“That sounds like it would be most uncomfortable for you.” Pantalone removed the mask that covered the Doctor’s eyes and placed it on the table beside his bed. Upon seeing his companion’s face again, he smiled.
“Perhaps,” answered the Doctor. “It would not be the first time.”
“I would hate for you to subject yourself to such discomfort.” Pantalone stood in front of il Dottore and brushed his hair out of his face.
“You don’t need to worry about my comfort.” He leaned into the touch of Regrator’s soft hand. “Why did you come to see me so late at night? You’re not due for another dose yet.”
“Can I not visit you without an appointment, Doctor? I wished to see you, and your office light was on.” He carefully removed the surgical mask from the Doctor’s face. “And what is this for? Anticipating performing another operation on me? Surely it isn’t yet time for that.” He smiled.
“I certainly hope not.” The Doctor looked down.
“Hm? Look at me, Zandik.” Pantalone’s hand gently tilted the Doctor’s face up. “Open your mouth, my love.”
“Why?” The Doctor’s face grew warm. He hesitated, but the smile on Regrator’s face was enough to change his mind. He opened his mouth.
“I see. You were hiding this, no?” He ran the tip of his thumb across the tips of the Doctor’s sharp teeth and paused when he reached the gap where a tooth was missing. “I suppose this little space here is the culprit of your pain. I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you do look quite adorable.”
Il Dottore blushed. “Don’t joke with me like that, Feofan.”
“Who said I was joking?” He leaned down and kissed the Doctor’s nose. “Although, you look cute with all of your teeth present, as well. In fact, I don’t believe I have ever seen you not look lovely.”
The Doctor turned his blushing face away. “Stop that.”
Regrator laughed. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, Zandik.” He sat on the bed beside him.
Il Dottore leaned his head against Pantalone’s shoulder. “You seem to enjoy it quite a lot, though.”
“I won’t deny that.” He reached for the Doctor’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Has the pain subsided?”
Il Dottore closed his eyes and answered, “Do you not trust the efficacy of my medications?”
“Of course I do, my love. I have put my life in your capable hands, after all.” He brushed his fingers against the vial of Elixir hanging from the Doctor’s ear. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” As they sat together, the Doctor’s weight seemed to grow heavier on his shoulder. “Hm?” He looked down at him. “Don’t fall asleep yet, Zandik.” He smiled and stood up. “I don’t imagine it would be comfortable to sleep in your day clothes.” Il Dottore opened his eyes slightly. Pantalone stood in front of him, a gentle smile on his face. His hands approached the Doctor’s chest. “May I?” Il Dottore nodded, and Pantalone began to unbutton his shirt.
The Doctor yawned. “Are you staying the night, Feofan?”
“Would you like for me to stay?” The Doctor’s heart fluttered each time Pantalone’s gentle hands brushed against the bare skin of his chest.
“You know the answer to that.”
“Indeed I do.” Pantalone kissed his chest softly. “You know my answer, as well. You surely wouldn’t kick me out at this time of night.” The Doctor closed his eyes and waited. Once Pantalone had finished undressing him, il Dottore gazed up at him and smiled softly.
“Don’t keep me waiting long, Feofan.”
Regrator chuckled and began to remove his own clothing. “Don’t be so impatient, my love. I’ll join you shortly.” Pantalone folded his clothing onto the dresser and went into the bathroom to wash his face. He opened the drawer where the Doctor had stocked Regrator’s preferred skincare products, as well as other hygiene products and several doses of his medicine. As he waited, il Dottore tried his best to stay awake until Pantalone was finished. He listened to the water run and tried to estimate when he would come back. Soon, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, where Pantalone was now brushing his hair. “Zandik?” He met the Doctor’s eye in the mirror and smiled.
“You took too long.” He stood behind Pantalone and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Come to bed now.”
Regrator laughed softly. “I’m almost done, my love.” He set the hairbrush down and got out his medicine. “I’m sure you wouldn’t object to me taking the medicines you so lovingly prepared for me.”
“Indeed, I would not.” Il Dottore kissed the back of his neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Regrator gathered the necessary pills into his palm.
“Taking care of yourself like I’ve asked you to.” He kissed Pantalone’s shoulder.
“It is I who should be thanking you, Doctor.” Once he was finished, he returned the medicine bottles to the drawer. “Go back to bed now. I’ll have a smoke and then be with you.”
“You absolutely will not, and certainly not mere moments after I praised you for taking better care of yourself.” Il Dottore held tighter onto his waist. “You know I won’t let you do that here, and I mean it.” He pressed his lips to the side of Pantalone’s neck. “Would you not rather be in bed with me?”
“You can accompany me.” Pantalone turned around to face the Doctor. “A fair compromise, is it not?”
“The only place I’ll be accompanying you is to our bed. You know I worked very hard to acquire those lungs for you.” He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his companion, as if he could hold him tightly enough to prevent him from endangering his body.
Pantalone raised an eyebrow. “Our bed?”
“Hm?” The Doctor repeated the phrase in his head. “Oh… is that what I said?” A pink tint rose to his cheeks.
“Well, I suppose it is not an inaccurate description.” Pantalone kissed his cheek.
“What makes you say that?”
“Half of your bed is occupied by my pillows. And did you not order yourself a larger and softer bed for the sole purpose of sleeping more comfortably beside each other?” He smiled. “I seem to remember a budget request being put in for that sole purpose.”
“The new bed is more comfortable than the old one, and sometimes I sleep on your pillows. Don’t be so self absorbed, Feofan.” The Doctor averted his eyes.
“Ah, that explains, then, why they so often smell like you.” He chuckled. “Even you admit they are my pillows, though, and you only thought to get a new mattress when I complained to you about the hardness of the previous one.”
“Perhaps.” He kissed Pantalone’s shoulder tenderly.
“Let’s go to our bed, then.” Pantalone held the Doctor’s face in his hands and kissed him. He turned off the bathroom light and guided the Doctor back to the bed they so often shared.
Il Dottore got under the covers and looked expectantly at Regrator. “Are you not getting into bed?”
“I already told you, my love.” He retrieved his pipe from the pocket of his jacket. “I’ll be with you shortly.”
The Doctor sat up. “You’re not going to do that in my house.”
“I will be outside, then.”
A pout spread across his face. “Come to bed, Feofan.” He stared at Pantalone with wide eyes. Regrator did find him extremely convincing when he looked at him like this. He sighed and set his pipe on the dresser beside his clothing.
“You know how difficult it is for me to say no to you.” He walked back to the bed and got under the covers.
“I do.” Il Dottore lay back down and wrapped his arm around Pantalone’s waist. “Please don’t leave.” His voice was unusually serious, perhaps even desperate. “Not while I’m still asleep.”
“Very well. I will not.” Pantalone lifted the Doctor’s hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand. “I promise you.” He had never broken a promise to Zandik.
When il Dottore awoke, Pantalone was still sleeping soundly beside him, in the same position in which they had fallen asleep. He smiled and held tighter onto Regrator, pressing his bare chest against his companion’s back. No matter how many times they shared a bed like this, the feeling of Pantalone’s bare skin against his own always made the Doctor’s heart flutter. He kissed the back of his neck and placed his hand on Pantalone’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat, slow and serene. As they lay together under the light of dawn shining in through the curtains, il Dottore began to count. He calculated Pantalone’s heart rate, then his breathing rate. He was satisfied with the results.
He sat up, moving carefully to avoid waking Pantalone. The pain would likely return soon. He looked at the dresser, where Regrator’s pipe was laying in the same position in which it had been left. He smiled. As soon as he had heard the word “promise” from Pantalone’s mouth, he did not doubt him, but he was happy to receive confirmation that the promise was kept. He retrieved a dose of oral pain medication from the cabinet and swallowed it dry. Intravenous delivery was more efficient when one needed immediate pain relief, but he could bypass that necessity by taking the medicine orally before the pain returned. He got himself ready and went into the kitchen.
Il Dottore didn’t cook for himself, but Pantalone enjoyed cooking occasionally when he was at his home, so the kitchen cabinets contained a collection of expensive cookware and spices for his use. He paced through the kitchen and spoke out loud to himself. “Feofan cooks for the two of us rather often. I’m sure he would be happy if I made him breakfast for once…” He opened the cabinets and got out a large cast iron pan. “But what do I have available to cook?” He opened the refrigerator. Eggs and… Nothing else, really. He cracked three eggs into the pan and poured some salt onto them. What else goes on eggs? He had seen Pantalone cook them before. He turned the stove onto high and continued to search through the cabinets. Sweet paprika, dill weed, and marjoram. Would this be enough seasonings? He thought any seasonings would work as long as he used enough of them. He poured some of each onto the eggs and stirred them with a wooden spoon. The bottoms of the eggs were already sizzling, and as he stirred them, he found that some parts had turned brown, but others were still raw. “I suppose I should flip them now,” he mumbled to himself. He grabbed the handle of the pan. The action was followed by the sound of sizzling and a sharp pain in his hand. He yelped. “Oh, Archons, dammit!” He pulled his hand away from the metal and turned on the kitchen sink. A stream of swear words left his mouth as he rinsed his palm under the water. Smoke began to fill the kitchen air.
“Zandik?” Il Dottore turned his head to the doorway, where Regrator was standing, wearing only his underwear and glasses.
“Good morning, Feofan.” He spoke calmly despite the smoke billowing into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Pantalone turned off the stove and looked at the pan, the contents of which were now little more than a pile of soot.
“Cooking breakfast.” Il Dottore coughed on the smoke filling the kitchen.
Pantalone opened the windows to allow the smoke to dissipate. “And why is the sink running?”
The Doctor was still rinsing his hand under the water. “Just a minor accident.”
“Are you injured?” He walked to the sink and stood beside il Dottore. “You burned yourself, I presume?”
“It may be possible that I sustained a mild injury. It’s nothing to be concerned about. Are you hungry?”
Pantalone reached into the sink and held the Doctor’s hand under the running water. Any time he had been minorly burned, il Dottore had done the same to him in the immediate aftermath. It seemed only fair, then, that he should do the same. “It’s quite alright, Zandik. We can address that later.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Il Dottore looked away.
“I know.” Pantalone smiled. “But you are always treating my injuries. Can I not help you for once?” No response came. “Will you need to bandage this? It appears to be more severe than you indicated.”
“That’s enough. I don’t feel any pain.” The Doctor turned off the sink, but Regrator held onto his hand and turned the sink back on.
“Not yet. You need to wait longer. This is what you told me to do.” He hummed quietly. The Doctor sighed and allowed Pantalone to hold his burnt hand under the running water. “What did you… cook?” He looked back at the stove, where the cast iron pan was caked with a black substance.
“Eggs.” The Doctor smiled.
“Oh. I couldn’t tell.” Pantalone took a deep breath to avoid laughing. “I appreciate the effort. We may have to get something different to eat, however.” He would also have to manage to get the soot off of the pan, but that could be done later.
“Are you not cold?” il Dottore asked. The windows had swept away most of the smoke, but in its stead, cold air had rushed into the room.
“I am.” Pantalone was still smiling.
“Go put on some clothes.” He glanced at Regrator and blushed.
“I will soon. Allow me to see to it first that your injury is taken care of.” He looked at the surface of the Doctor’s palm. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not at all. You shouldn’t be so concerned.” The Doctor looked at Pantalone’s face, which now looked serious and focused. “We can stop the water now.” He turned off the water and moved his hand.
“You should bandage it, should you not?” Pantalone smiled again.
“I suppose so,” the Doctor sighed.
Pantalone nodded. “Wait here.” He left the room and returned with the necessary materials. “May I do it?”
“Why? You’re not a doctor.”
“It would be easier if you had help, though, would it not?” Although the Doctor could certainly care for the injury on his own, Pantalone wanted to ease the burden.
“Suit yourself,” he answered.
Pantalone smiled and gently spread ointment over the Doctor’s palm. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
“I’m glad.” Once that was finished, he carefully wrapped it in a bandage. His wrapping took longer and was less neat than what the Doctor was capable of, but it was sufficient.
“It seems you’ve been paying attention while I treat your injuries.” The Doctor turned his hand over to examine the wrapping.
“Indeed.” Regrator smiled proudly. “Did you take more pain medicine today?”
“Yes, I did when I woke up,” the Doctor answered.
“Perhaps that is why the burn didn’t hurt.” He laughed. “It’s a good thing that you allowed me to treat it, then.”
The Doctor smiled slightly. “I suppose so.”