Neither Safe, Nor Sane

Introduction (Gender-neutral)

[3k words]

Just as any other boring day in the office, Il Dottore was stuck indoors handling desk research. His mind would drift away to fumble with the oddities of his imagination, deciphering bits and bots from the Ruin Hunters or unsealing the powers of a god in a puppet. But as stated before, it was just another ordinarily distressing day. 

The Sixth Fatui Harbinger, Scaramouche, paid him a timely visit. His reason for joining him in his office was none other than an update on his condition. Killing two birds with one stone, Scaramouche would hand over any extra files passed down from the Jester or Tsaritsa. 

After taking a breath, Dottore inquired about Scaramouche's condition in a low voice, "Are you experiencing any issues with your therapy?" 

Scaramouche paced around the room in a sluggish manner. His arms were folding, occasionally releasing to be placed on either side of his hips or to bring his hand to his chin in thought as he inspected the framed artworks and certificates decorating the walls. He had repeated this process for quite some time but had yet to grow tired of it. Visiting Dottore was a rare pleasure - not that he had any direct need of the opportunity. Their conversations were short and to the point. He was a mortal being worth respecting in his eyes. 

"My answer hasn't changed since the previous time you've asked," in most cases, Scaramouche would be rather irritated at having to repeat himself over and over however it was a necessity for Dottore to know due to the rarity of Scaramouche's... condition. "Everything still functions as intended. Your work is exemplary, as always." 

Dottore's infamous grin never showed. Part of him wished that there would be an error to his work so that he had a reason to cure his boredom. His findings were too smooth, too easy, too underwhelming. Scaramouche was the last exciting thing he lay his hands on for an experiment and even that was a successful project. Dottore's mouth arched into a toothed frown, opting to get up and perch by the window to join Scaramouche's location but quickly decided against it. 

The day was far too peaceful for the harbingers - they telepathically agreed. 

"Any plans for this evening?" Scaramouche raised his head high and closed his eyes, almost as if to smell the air around him. It was quite an odd question, almost even considered a little personal for those among the fatui, but Dottore didn't mind. His response followed along with a slouch, leaning so far back in his chair it almost shared appearances with that of an operating table. A huff of breath escaped his lips before he zipped back up to fix his posture. 

"No." He wanted that to be a lie but in truth he couldn't even think of a follow up response. "Nothing at all. If you're still free then come find me in the lab this evening." 
Curiosity piqued Scaramouche's interests. "...What for?" 
"Let's keep this surprise between the two of us," Dottore answered, "I have a gift for you." 

The conversation was utterly foolish and you couldn't bare to listen to a single word of it any longer. It felt incredibly awkward, like two boys waiting for the other to confess their love. Ridiculous. There was a known fact floating around the fatui that Scaramouche only found respect for a few harbingers but his 'respect' was pitiable. He had too much to learn. 

You were nothing but grateful to have been hidden behind Dottore's desk with his cock stuffing your mouth in order to prevent you from suggesting Scaramouche to take his leave. Too many times had Dottore attempted to get up and have his attention swerve onto something else if not for your subtle pats on his thigh. He was also grateful to you for keeping quiet as well as keeping his dick company. It was rather difficult to bob your head up and down on somebody that was so jumpy or fidgety - still, your annoyance passed.