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The laboratory hummed as it always did. The machinery ticked in a particular rhythm as multiple experiments ran at the same time. Within the operating room, Dottore had his hands deep inside Scaramouche. It was a part of his routine maintenance on the puppet—checking to see if his internal mechanisms were all in order.
He has done this a lot throughout the centuries they knew each other. As a result, he knew Scaramouche’s body far better than anyone, even himself.
At least, that was what he thought.
As he carefully passed through Scaramouche’s circuits, something had caught his eye. Hidden beneath a stream of thick wires was a switch, one that he had never seen before. Oh? Dottore raised a brow, wondering if that had always been there, and if so, how come he never noticed it until that very moment.
His finger touched the switch. He didn’t flip it, at least, not yet. Curiosity brimmed within his mind as he pondered what its function could be. Surely, Scaramouche wouldn’t mind if he decided to learn something new about his artificial puppet body.
Who knew? Maybe the switch would increase his cognitive and physical abilities.
Dottore then flipped it.
After that, he finished the rest of his maintenance.
There was nothing of note about Scaramouche’s current condition. Dottore proceeded to clothe him after he had finished checking his insides and outs. Once he was completely dressed, Dottore finally woke him up from his idle state. It took a few minutes before he regained his consciousness, and once he opened his eyes, the first thing he did was sit up on the operating table.
So far, everything was normal. Dottore observed him for any changes, interested in how one switch would affect him.
“How do you feel?” He asked.
Scaramouche was silent at first. That wasn’t unusual for him. There was typically a lag between his mind and his body every time he came to after being operated on. He rested his hands on his lap as he blankly stared at the dim lights on the ceiling.
Dottore remained patient. He stood before Scaramouche, waiting until the haze that clouded his eyes disappeared.
Their gazes soon met.
Scaramouche’s irises gradually cleared, becoming more focused as time passed by. That was when Dottore felt something shift in the air between them. It was subtle at first. If it hadn’t been for their extensive history, he knew that he wouldn’t have noticed the change.
There was a gleam in Scaramouche’s eyes.
“...Dottore?” Scaramouche’s tone dripped with such sweetness that was foreign to him.
Dottore raised a brow. Well, he certainly didn’t expect any of this. He watched the way Scaramouche’s expression softened at the sight of him. Gone was his scowl that he previously believed was permanently etched onto his lips, as was the irritation that painted his features every time they interacted no matter the context.
In their place was something warm; something that made Dottore shudder. Because, never, in all the time that they knew each other, had Scaramouche ever looked at him like that. Like a man in love.
“Yes?” Dottore bit back his mild surprise, “Is something the matter, Scaramouche?”
“No.” Scaramouche wore a smile as he reached out to hold Dottore’s hand. He could barely suppress the giggles that escaped him when he nuzzled his palm against his cheek.
That was what convinced Dottore that something had gone wrong. So this was how the switch had affected Scaramouche. It made him more affectionate, proven by how he treated Dottore since he woke up—kissing the back of his hand before he then intertwined their fingers together in a sickeningly tender manner.
Why he was built with such a switch in the first place was a mystery. Dottore didn’t understand why Scaramouche’s creator hid that mechanism inside of him. More so when he knew that his creator, the Raiden Shogun, was known to be someone feared rather than revered.
It made little sense to Dottore.
But, who was he to complain?
It wasn’t often that he was showered with affection. How long had it been since he last felt the touch of another person? For all his bewilderment regarding this situation, his desire for close contact was why he didn’t pull away from Scaramouche’s insistence to never let go of him.
He let his hand remain still. He let Scaramouche caress his knuckles as though he believed him, of all people, to be someone precious. He told himself that this was just another one of his experiments. That was nothing more than a lie, of course. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.
Dottore would rather present himself as someone who was detached. He preferred to be seen as a monster than to admit that he, just like everyone else, longed for something as mundane as love.
“You’re quite handsome,” Scaramouche murmured. His eyes were half-lidded as he stood up and moved to cup Dottore’s face.
“Is that so?” Dottore could feel his cheeks heat up.
Dottore stiffened. It wasn’t as though this was the first time that someone had admired his appearance. For all that he was treated like an outcast during his youth, he still received a love letter or two every so often. But, for someone like Scaramouche, whose flattery were insults in disguise, to praise his looks with such sincerity… it made his heart ache. He didn’t know what to feel.
Scaramouche’s thumb brushed beneath his mask. His every move was unbearably gentle, and Dottore found himself unconsciously leaning into his warmth. It was a second too late when he finally caught himself, with his shoulders now tense after he realized what he had just done.
“You’re blushing,” Scaramouche pointed out, delighted as he patted his cheek, “It looks nice. Matches your pretty lips. A lovely shade of pink.”
“I suppose.” Dottore bit his bottom lip.
The artificial flavor of his lip gloss doused his tongue. It came as a surprise when Scaramouche, out of the blue, pressed a sloppy kiss against his cheek. This caused Dottore to fluster all the more, with his flush spreading down to his neck as he gasped.
Dottore couldn’t believe it.
Did that just happen? He raised his hand to cover his mouth, which gaped in surprise at how Scaramouche had been so shameless.
“W- Wait,” He stuttered uncharacteristically.
“Mm?” Scaramouche hummed. He blinked at him, with his soft smile visibly pleased, clearly proud of himself for his little stunt, “Shall I kiss you on the lips this time?”
That hit Dottore harder than the kiss itself had. Before he could be subjected to more physical affection, he caught Scaramouche’s wrist just as he was about to lean close to his face. His grasp was firm, but gentle, keeping him at bay. All the while, his own heartbeat betrayed him with how fast it echoed through his ears.
“No!” He blurted out. He hated how his voice almost cracked as though he was undergoing puberty.
Scaramouche tilted his head. Confusion crept onto his visage as he attempted to get closer to Dottore, only for his attempts to be blocked. He made a wounded noise, whimpering, “Why not? I thought you liked it. You’re still blushing.”
“I’m not. It’s just hot in here.”
Dottore internally winced. It was such a blatant lie that he couldn’t even blame Scaramouche for furrowing his brows in disbelief. His laboratory, especially the operating room, had always been kept cold. It was to better preserve the materials he used for his experiments, plenty of which were completely organic. Coupled with how none of the rooms even had heaters, quite frankly, it was impossible for anyone to feel warm inside his laboratory.
“Dottore…” Scaramouche began.
“Look. You’re not acting as you normally would. I flipped a switch while you were under maintenance, and that led to you becoming more affectionate than usual. You’re not in the right state of mind, so I really shouldn’t entertain any of this.” Dottore let go of Scaramouche’s wrist, which he returned to his side.
“A switch?” Scaramouche narrowed his eyes. He looked deep in thought, probably wondering what switch Dottore was talking about. Did he even know of its existence? It had been well hidden, after all.
This was it, Dottore thought. Scaramouche was definitely going to hate him after this.
It was nice while it lasted.
“Oh!” Scaramouche surprisingly lit up, “You must have flipped the switch that releases my inhibitions!”
Dottore’s eyes widened, “You know what it does?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s part of my body.”
Ah. Dottore should have expected that. He paid no mind to the slight embarrassment that he felt. Rather, he chose to focus on what Scaramouche had just revealed—how the switch inside him, when flipped, functioned to get rid of his inhibitions. The implications of which made him all the more shocked as he touched where Scaramouche had kissed him on the cheek.
Did that mean Scaramouche secretly wanted to kiss him, hold him, and dote on him all this time? He struggled to believe it. That couldn’t be. Why would anyone ever want someone like him? Why would Scaramouche ever love a monster such as himself?
Scaramouche went to hold his hand once more.
“Don’t overthink it,” Was all that he said. He then went on to remove the mask that covered Dottore’s eyes, who let him do as he pleased.
“Scaramouche?” Dottore’s breath hitched.
It only lasted for a brief moment. An instant of sweetness that he never thought he would ever experience. His lips had been completely and utterly savored by the softness of Scaramouche’s own. It was the first time he had ever been kissed there, and with such sentiment too.
He almost didn’t want it to end. He almost frowned when Scaramouche pulled back, ending their short exchange with a chuckle.
“You should probably flip that switch back.”
Dottore initially hesitated. But, he knew that it was for the best to do as Scaramouche wanted. To lack any and all inhibitions would only serve to harm Scaramouche. And so, he laid him back down on the operating table, putting him in an idle state once more. His hands reached inside his body, searching for the switch that forever changed how he viewed Scaramouche.
“I liked it,” Dottore admitted to no one in particular, “Let’s kiss again one day.”
He then flipped the switch back.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
For the second time that day, Scaramouche roused and sat up on the operating table. Dottore watched him the entire time. He was somewhat on edge, uncertain on how Scaramouche would react after all that had transpired between them moments ago.
He hoped that he wouldn’t be too mad.
Only for a slap to roughly strike his cheek. Ouch.
“How dare you!” Scaramouche seethed, now back to his senses. He glared at Dottore, who held his face, wincing at how hard he had been hit.
“I apologize for my impropriety,” Dottore mumbled as he avoided Scaramouche’s fiery glare.
“Hmph. You better be sorry.”
Now, this was the Scaramouche who he became familiar with throughout the years. The one with the sharp tongue and ruthless eyes, whose touch only hurt those who he believed to be beneath him. It was a far cry from how he acted when he lacked any of his inhibitions.
Scaramouche stood up from the operating table, “Never do that again without my permission.”
“I won’t. I promise,” Dottore assured.
It was still hard to believe that this Scaramouche was the same Scaramouche who treated him with such affection earlier that day. They were like two completely different people who just so happened to share the same face. It was jarring, to say the least. Even so, Dottore now knew that deep down, Scaramouche truly did care for him, and that brought him the barest of comfort.
Just as Dottore was about to lead Scaramouche out the operating room, he was suddenly pulled down by two hands that grabbed onto his collar. He almost let out a surprised noise, but before he his lips could part to react, they had been invaded by Scaramouche’s own.
Dottore nearly choked in shock.
Though, he soon melted into the exchange. It felt just as good, just as sweet as their first kiss.
“You’re still on thin ice,” Scaramouche warned after they had separated from one another. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he finally exited the operating room, leaving Dottore to stand at its center with a dumb expression on his face.
His jaw had dropped open and his hand still held onto his stinging cheek. He wondered if Scaramouche would kiss him again once he finally forgave him.
Only two kisses in and he was already addicted. It was safe to say that he was doomed.
He was grateful to have found that switch.