Past Lives || Dottore

22

Dottore awoke, feeling nothing but the bed sheets. His mind started to panic, but he was lucky enough to still have some type of rational thought. The sheets were still warm with body heat, and he heard faint noises outside of his room. As he looked around his room, he saw a note on his nightstand.

It was a note written by Y/n. He smiled faintly. He could recognize her handwriting easily, it didn't matter what time it was. It was simple things written on the note; things telling him not to panic, telling him that she was still in the house. He set the note back down on the nightstand, standing and making his way to his door.

He opened it, the smell of something filled his nose. She was cooking. It must be a new skill she acquired, from what, he didn't know. Dottore made his way down the hall, entering the kitchen.

There she was. Wearing an apron, his slippers she must've found. He didn't wear them anymore, so it didn't bother him. Y/n looked like she was trying to make French toast, but the amount of burnt bread that stood in the trash concerned him a bit. At least she was trying, hm?

He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She let out a noise, mainly from the shock, relaxing against his touch. Warm. She smiled.

"You left your mask in your room, is that okay?" She asked, flipping the toast in the pan. The toast was done nicely -for once.

"That's fine." Dottore mumbled.

She stopped smiling, remembering the events that happened the night before. He noticed the mood change. He released her, stepping away. She turned around and hugged him, tighter than the night before. He was pretty sure he felt something crack in his sternum.

"I'm sorry, Dottore." Y/n said. "I learned my lesson."

He rubbed her head, pleased at her words. It was nice, for once. This time, after 2 tries, maybe he had a shot at protecting her. At keeping her safe.

The smell of something burning filled his nose. "You might want to check on that toast you're trying to make."

"Ah!" She released him, turning back around and panicking as she shut off the stove. "Oh no, not again." Y/n flipped the toast. It was completely burnt on one side.

"Damn." She picked it up carefully and tossed it in the trash. "I was closer that time."

"Yes, I suppose you were."

She turned around, holding her spatula like a weapon. "If you're going to act like that, then why don't you cook?"

Dottore stepped back. "I'm not a cook, or a baker." He smirked. Her eyes narrowed at his smirk. She had a feeling she set herself up for this one. "But I can think of a few things I can put in your-"

"Don't." She sighed. "Don't finish that sentence."

He leaned forward, his face level with hers. Y/n lowered her spatula, feeling her face flush red. She watched as his eyes looked at her lips, flicking between her eyes and her lips.

"Is there something wrong with what I was going to say?"

"Yeah, actually." She huffed. She turned away. "You may look like an adult, but your mind is that of a child."

He grabbed her chin, making her look back at him. Somehow, she was pinned against the counter. She was trapped. Not that she was complaining, but was this really the right area to do such things? Or the right time?

"I only act like such, darling." Dottore whispered. His voice sent warm shivers down her spine. Y/n felt her face grow hot, burning even. She knew he knew about the effect he had on her. It was the only reason why that she could think of that would explain his behavior now.

Or maybe it was something to help distract himself from what happened yesterday. A way to make sure -to himself- that she was really here.

"I could act my age, but I don't think acting like an old man is my style." He chuckled, releasing her chin.

Wait, what.

"Huh?"

He stared at her for a moment, puzzled himself. She watched as his face changed as it clicked in his mind. "Ah, I understand now." Dottore laughed at himself.

"I'm a few hundred years old; I lost count decades ago."

"I-" Y/n was amazed. "Huh."

He nodded. "It's called immortality, love." He paused. "I can give it to you, if you'd like."

She looked up at him, surprised at his words. She was even confused. "But why? Even after everything I did?"

Dottore's eyes looked away from her. It looked like he was thinking something over, probably his offer to her. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. She watched him as he opened them again, looking directly into hers.

"Yes. I'm certain you won't pull something like that again." His voice betrayed his face. His voice was positive, maybe even hopeful. But his face was blank, cold even. It was weird correlation that fit him somehow.

"How does one undergo this process?" Y/n asked. This wasn't a good question to ask, but she needed to know. Something like immortality is a serious topic. She needed to know if it was painful.

She didn't want to subject herself into such pain.

Dottore blinked, unsure if he should answer her question. He sighed. This was something he should've expected from her.

"It's a painful process." He spoke. "I will not lie to you about that."

"Ah."

"I will have to replace every cell of your body with a copy, a perfect copy." He shrugged. "This part of you will be the same, like a carbon copy. The new cells will replace the original cells, they will completely healthy."

He must've sensed her uneasiness. "I will not make a copy of you, not unless you want me too."

Y/n stayed silent, thinking this over. "How long could this process take?"

"It depends on the subject."

"What do you mean by that, Dottore?" Her voice was cold, stabbing into him.

"For a lab rat, it took a few weeks." He replied, feeling uneasy under her gaze. Very few people could do that, only Pierro and The Tsaritsa from what he could remember. It was nice to feel it from someone else for a change.

"For myself, it took longer than my calculations." He sighed. "It took years for me to fully become immortal, though I could calculate the factor that I was working on myself during that period."

"I see."

Dottore touched her arm softly. "If you do agree to this, this will be the most vulnerable period of your life. You cannot do anything, or you will risk destroying the new cells, even risking death. The materials for immortality are expensive, so I will have to call in a few favors-"

Y/n took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'll think about it, okay?"

He stared at her. It wasn't no, so it's a good sign. He tried his best to smile without seeming crazy (this wasn't the right time or place for that).

"Alright, darling."