Chapter Text
"Cesare? Boss? Cesare??"
He opened his eyes, still squinting, wiping his face down with his hand, groaning and mumbling. "Im awake, im awake"
Doctor/Allen had been knocking on the driver's seat window, the one Cesare had fallen asleep against. His bones and joints creaked as he sat up and opened the door, carefully stepping down. "God, fuck, being alive again sucks. How do you live like this?" He said through a particularly crunchy sounding coughing fit, wiping the blood on his sleeve far too casually.
Cesare handed the keys to the back of the truck to Doctor so he could open it up and get the kitchen all set up for the day, while he himself stretched his back and legs out, hearing all sorts of pops and cracks.
"Cesare, are you sure this is how you want to spend your last few years? You dont want to just... relax? This cannot be as sustainable as you think it seems to be."
"Listen, Docky, buddy, ive been doing what I was told for a thousand years, I thought I wanted to just relax after it was over, but I found something I actually enjoy doing - that im good at, not just shitty puppets. ...the marionette thing was not sustainable. This though, this food truck? We're good at this, this is my passion, I want to get as much of this as possible before I drop kick that bucket, alright?"
Doctor was hesitant, but as always, accepted whatever it was that Cesare said.
"I hope you know that I expect you to continue the truck whenever im done. And you need to keep kicking Bigtop's asses, dont get chummy with them because youre grieving."
"Of course boss, id never let you down like that. If you want, I'd gladly fist fight Tim if its one of your wishes before...youre gone." He was clearly trying his best to keep it all upbeat, same as Cesare, but with far more difficulty. He had already lost his friend once, and it seemed he didnt care either time. Like it wasn't a big deal - whether he was just leaving him, or dying.
The clock was ticking, and even though they were doing everything possible to make him as fulfilled as possible before it ran out, spend as much time together, get the most out of whatever life was left, it didnt feel like enough.
There was something missing.
And it wasnt fair that they only had so much time.
Doctor knew Cesare had been lying, a decade was far too long for the condition he was in. Cesare was lying.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
Fucking nothing he could do as the man he loved got older and withered before his eyes. It got worse every day.
One day hed come in to work and Cesare just. Wouldn't wake up.
He couldn't handle this much longer, this dread, knowing that soon, hed be alone. Because he would be. Alone. This truck, this world, would be so empty without Cesare. The truck and his life wouldn't- won't - be right without Cesare in the driver's seat.
"Hey, Doctor! How about we go out for some drinks again after work tonight?" He said, breaking Doctor out of the autopilot trance he had been in - lost in thought, his hands working on their own to ready up shop. "You could invite Conrad and Frances again too, if you want"
"Of course, Boss, if thats what youd like" he called back, hearing Cesare laugh and start up the truck, it jolting and beginning to speed off to pick up Conrad, their next stop.
He moved from the kitchen to the front of the truck, sitting down in the passenger seat wordlessly, his elbow resting against the door, holding up his chin with his hand, looking out the window. The sunrise was real nice.
He felt selfish. He missed Cesare's black hair, how it was wiry and matted, and thin - but it was still better than they grey-ish white it was now. When his skin was more blue-grey, his eyes yellow, almost jaundiced, his creepy, crooked toothed smile, the blue-ish eyebags under his eyes that crept up to his upper eyelids, the same with his lips. Those lips. He hadn't realised how many times he had looked down at them - and not just so he could better understand what Cesare was saying at the time.
How energetic and animated he was, like he never ran out, would never get tired. His ragged fingernails that were now deteriorating and becoming thinner and weaker like the rest of him.
His veins that previously had no blood moving through them had become more visible, spidery along his skin, the skin that somehow both pulled taught and thin against his bones and features, yet also sagged and began to wrinkle in certain areas.
His eyes now looked tired, growing red around the edges, still not used to needing to sleep so much. He moved very little now, and it always seemed strained and difficult when he did.
Doctor had stopped looking in Cesare's direction so often now, not making eye contact as much when they talked, avoiding seeing how much he had began to degrade, wanting to keep the spritely, erratic, undead but fun image of his friend in his head rather than ..what he was now.
It was selfish.
But it was easier.
This was awful.
This sucks.
He might have to kick it too when Cesare eventually keels over.
Its not really worth it without him, is it?
Work went fine that day. They picked up Conrad and Frances, made their way to the most popular spots for lunch, had their own lunch as they headed towards their dinnertime spot. They saw Bigtop Burger on the way there, ran out of cannonballs and Frances walked over a ladder between the trucks to board like a pirate raiding another ship. Tim had taken over Bigtop after Steve returned to his home planet, and ended up fighting with Frances on the roof of the truck while Billie took the wheel, eventually managing to pick Frances up, throwing her over his shoulder, walking halfway across the ladder, throwing her through the truck window, stealing the ladder on his way back to bigtop, speeding off so Zomburger couldn't do anything more to them.
After the successful day, Conrad and Frances went home, leaving Cesare and Doctor to go for drinks alone.
They found an alternative bar, filled with punks and goths alike, Rob Zombie playing overhead as they walked in, but would no doubt change to a different artist soon enough. They sat down with some shots and and a glass each to sip on slower once the shots were all gone.
They didnt quite want to get blackout drunk, just fucked up enough to numb the pain of what they both knew was inevitable.
The shots slid down their gullets, the drinks had been refilled and emptied and refilled again and they both swayed a good bit every time they stood to go to the bathroom.
"You know.. I was lying to you all. I don't know how long I-"
"I know, Cesare. They other two are ignorant to that fact, but I do know. You wont have much longer left. Its best to keep them in the dark though, I agree."
"...its that obvious?"
"I dont... I dont want to have this conversation, tonight, Cesare. Perhaps never. I dont ever want to have this conversation." He said, doing his best to maintain a monotone voice, not get choked up. "You'll be here. And one day you'll be gone. As simple as that. We should focus on what you want to do while you are still here."
Cesare never showed affection very well. He had never had anyone to show affection to in his life before, except his parents, but that was over a thousand years ago.
He supposed that this past while had been a new life, one he was enjoying, running a terrible food truck with his little gang of misfits in grease paint.
"Ive never been close enough with anyone. I haven't loved properly. Got married. Had sex. Had a friend i could hug, or hold. Someone to brush their thumb over my knuckles. Someone to run my fingers through their hair. Ive only ever slept alone. There's so many things I missed out on because I could never be with PEOPLE. The closest ive ever been to someone is you. And in this state, even though ive finally got blood flowing through my veins, no one will ...want me. Or want anything from me. Everything is such an awful texture, I look terrible, and theres no use bonding with me properly, because I'll be fucking dead. So asides from spending time with you, running the truck, theres nothing. I have and will have nothing. ...I would have visited Venezia again, but theres nothing left of it, not the way I remember it."
Fffuck.
"Boss... Cesare." Doctor started, thought he hesitated, not sure if he'd regret it.
"Im not sure if it would be any consolation to hear now, and im not sure if its a good idea to suggest this. But. I ...used to... feel very affectionate. Towards you. And you've missed out on a lot of that side of things. We could head down tomorrow morning - start work late - and... get married. Just a small thing, the courthouse, the papers. We could get some rings, perhaps. It would also be a good way to... remember you. When youre gone. For me."
Cesare paused, his lips parting from the straw he was drinking through, swallowing hard. This was very unexpected.
"Doctor.. you have to be drunk. Too drunk. That's a stupid idea, you cant actually want that."
"Cesare, no, it would be for your benefit - im just saying that I'd be willing to, as a symbol of our friendship, so I could remember you with the ring after, and because I used to love you!"
He didnt mean to say the last part.
At least not so explicitly.
"...used to?"
"...I- Icant allow myself to think about how I feel about you now. It would just hurt. If I do still ...love you, then you being gone will hurt so much more. And if I dont, then what was the point of all this, of convincing you to give up your immortality, to kill Caligari - basically killing yourself, and i dont even love you anymore? So I dont know if i still do or not. But I know I still care, I know I still feel deeply about you, whether it is platonic or romantic, I want whats best for you and to be able to honour you in a special way after its all over. So I think its a good idea, sober or not."
Doctor had begun choking up now, doing his best not to let any tears fall from his wet eyes.
"...I'll think about it tonight." Was all Cesare could muster up.
The air of the night was awkward and silent after that. Doctor knew he had ruined it all.
Eventually, they finished drinking and didnt want any more, or didnt think it wise to have any more, at least.
They walked out, the night air chilly, and sharp against any bare skin, and through Cesare's thin clothing.
"You shouldn't keep sleeping in the truck, Cesare, not in your condition. It must be making things worse, no?"
"Ill be fine, Doctor" he groaned, rolling his eyes.
"At least take my coat, you're freezing over there, I can hear your teeth grinding."
"...do you have a couch? Ill sleep there if you really want me to"
"Yes, you can sleep on my sofa, good idea, Cesare."
They got to his apartment, and walked through the door, Doctor locking it behind himself.
It wasn't the nicest apartment, since Doctor had learnt to live less lavishly, but it was better than a lot of other places. Certainly better than a cold food truck driver seat.
"I have spare night clothes, and if youd like to take the bed, then I can sleep on the couch."
"...ok"
"...would you like to sleep next to each other?"
"...yes"
And so, they changed into more comfortable clothes, washed off their makeup (Cesare had begun wearing some light makeup to look more like his old, dead self, for the Truck), and Doctor climbed in, kicking off his slippers.
Cesare hesitated, looking at the empty spot in the bed.
Doctor patted the spot pulling the covers back, urging him to rest.
Cesare sighed as he clambered in, wiggling a bit as the covers were put over him, to get comfy. Unexpectedly, Doctor put an arm over Cesare's chest as he closed his eyes, his breathing slowing.
"Goodnight, Cesare"
"...goodnight Allen"
He begrudgingly allowed Doctor to cuddle him as the two fell asleep, beginning to enjoy it, if anything, as he yawned and drifted out of consciousness.
It was nice.