Sick Day
Notes: I've been sick to my stomach all day so I wanted something semi-soft, I guess. Pairing: Dottore x Reader CW: None
Summary: The lab is a little too quiet when you're sick.
You felt miserable.
It wasn’t often you got sick, not with all the weird concoctions and experiments Dottore subjected you to—all for your own benefit, of course. But when you did, it was usually abrupt and pretty bad, taking you out entirely.
Which was why you were curled up under two thick blankets. Your head was resting in Dottore’s lap on the couch that was conveniently just added to his lab the day you got sick.
One of his hands rested over your eyes gently, blocking out the light that made your headache worse while also letting him feel your temperature as it continued to fluctuate. You went from scalding hot one minute to a little too cold for his liking the next.
If he didn’t monitor you closely, he could lose you easily. For all his medication and adjustments to your immune system, you were still susceptible to getting sick. And because of how bad it needed to be for you to get sick in the first place; you were in a fairly precarious situation whenever you did.
“Do you hate me?”
A handful of clones stopped what they were doing and looked over at you. Alpha in particular looked disturbed by the question, while the others exchanged worrying glances. Dottore set aside the papers he was reading from and looked down at you, feeling your lashes flutter beneath his hand as you blinked rapidly.
Hate you? Where did that come from? Even his clones looked uncomfortable at the question.
“No,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
You reached up to grab his wrist and tug it away from your eyes. Reluctantly, he let you move his hand away and frowned when you flinched at the harsh light hitting your face. You squinted against it, focusing on his face since his mask was absent.
Even now, years later you still thought his eyes were the prettiest shade of red. It was a shame that his usual mask covered them up.
“Promise?” You muttered, miserably.
Your voice was hoarse from the dry cough you suffered all night from. The deep, guttural noise you made while you hacked away still rang in his ears.
“Will you sleep if I say yes?” He asked.
His attention was drawn to the way you blinked, but your eyes were unfocused.
“Maybe.”
He sighed.
“Yes,” he gently tugged his wrist free and placed his hand over your eyes once more.
He propped his chin up with his free hand, elbow against the armrest of the couch as he watched his clones continue to work on a medication to help you.
“At least the lab is quiet now.” You joked before a cough ripped out of you. Another deep, guttural cough from your chest that grated against his ears and made him frown.
“Quiet indeed,” he murmured. “Now go back to sleep.”
The idea of his lab staying this quiet without you unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
Navigation → Next
