part 1 of ? of blurbs based off of this post. not proof read im writing from the heartā¦.. gn!reader, fluff, banter, canon does not exist
65 doesnāt make a big deal out of not getting a kiss before you hit the sack. in fact, heās definitely the least disruptive in how he responds to your inaction ā which isnāt to say heās not petty, but he wonāt make the problem known to everyone in the lab.
no, his thought process is surprisingly mature for one of ill dottoreās segments. if you forget to see him off with a smooch, heāll visit you in the morning with a tray of delicious, mouth-watering breakfast food. still-hot pancakes under butter actively melting onto the stack, a bowl of fresh fruit, something meaty to satiate any sodium cravings, a nice, cold glass of juice and some vitamin capsules.
as the segment with the most care for your human needs, he sneaks into your chambers carefully and quietly, making sure not to disrupt your precious sleep (which isnāt to say heās doesnāt wake you up, because the enticing smell of breakfast pulls you out of unconsciousness with comical speed).
āapologies for rousing you, my beloved. i thought youād do well to have a hearty breakfast this morning.ā he chuckles quietly, brushing back your bedhead with one gloved hand. you grumble, rubbing the sleep out of your puffy eyes.
ādidja make all of this?ā you reach for the drink as you sit up straight while 65 sets the feet of the tray on each side of you, breakfast on your lap. he shakes his head, soft gaze never leaving your face.
āmy contributions lie solely within the fruit and the vitamins. i had 8 cook the pancakes.ā you choose to interpret the latter statement as the child segment offering to help with your breakfast himself, that he wasnāt forced to slave away whisking the thick batter with his poor little arms. you hum, sighing happily when the cold liquid soothes your dry throat.
āiāll make sure to thank him well, in that case-ā a hand appears over your pancakes, shielding them from a stabbing by fork.
āwhat of my thank?ā you look at him, befuddled.
āā¦and yesterdayās good night kiss?ā
a metaphorical lightbulb shines bright over your head.
immediately, you lean up as much as you physically can with the tray still in your lap and leave a gentle kiss on the side of his beak, smiling. āiām sorry, i was so tired it completely slipped my mind!ā you muse with an airy laugh. āiāll make sure it doesnāt happen again, i promise.ā it would happen again.
his hand stays hovering on top of the pancakes.
he turns his head, facing you properly.
with a blink, you lean to the right and press a kiss on the other side of his beak.
you halt, in thought. pondering. you set the glass of juice down on your nightstand as to have the least amount of obstacles in your way of this mission, grab his face to angle it downwards so itās in proximity of your lips, and you give him a peck on the forehead.
no sound comes from the segment. youāre not even sure heās breathing, actually.
you hear a quiet, baritone ānot good enoughā from under the mask.
slightly fed up but mostly just hungry and impatient, your hands dart behind his head and fiddle with the belt clasps attached to that damn plague doctor mask and loosen them enough to yank the whole thing down, peppering his face with kisses ā the apple of his left cheek, his hooked nose, above his right eyebrow, on his right cheek, and finally, a loud, obnoxious MMMWAH! on his awaiting lips.
you stare at each other for a second. you, with a twitch in your right eye. him, with an indecipherable expression.
your stomach rumbles obnoxiously loud and you hear the ding! of a side quest complete along with it.
