Nineteen Drabbles
Not really connected by anything other than being Doctor/Master. Contains spoilers, read at your own risk.
bitty!Doctor/bitty!Master
Knock-Down Ginger (reminiscence)
After the day they've had, the Doctor decides, they deserve an afternoon stroll. Donna lets him choose their path, and they walk through a quiet suburban neighborhood in companionable silence.
Two boys, maybe eight years old, plot mischief together; a trick of the wind blows their words to the wanderers. "I dare you to knock-down ginger Mrs. Bucket's house."
"You ever do that where you're from?" Donna asks. "Knock on someone's door and run away?"
"No, of course not. Wouldn't be dignified for a future Time Lord."
She can tell by his smile that he knows she knows he's lying.
Unspecified Doctor/Unspecified Master
How (Not) to Defeat the Doctor (humor)
They're trying to kill each other -- again -- and the Master gets the upper hand. He shoves the Doctor back against the wall, hard enough to drop him to the floor, stunned.
He can't resist gloating, mouth stretching into a smirk as he walks to stand over his fallen foe. He drops into a crouch in front of him.
"Well, well," he says, savoring his victory. "Nothing to say?"
The Doctor shakes his head to clear it. "You should know better than to gloat."
"And what, exactly, do you plan on doing about it?"
"This," the Doctor says, and kisses him.
Third Doctor/Delgado!Master
The Hearts of Evil
The Master had believed for centuries that he was over his idiot schoolboy crush. That it had died with his first body, or perhaps been crushed out of him by the force of the black hole.
He planned the Doctor's demise, but something went wrong. He told himself that he only fought to save the Doctor from the intelligence inhabiting the Keller machine because he needed him alive to carry out his revised plan.
But why, of everything he'd seen, was it the Doctor's mockery that the machine tormented him with?
And why did that image still break his hearts?
Conjugal Visitation (angst)
The dream always starts the same: Miss Grant not with you today, Doctor?
I'd rather we have some time alone, if you don't mind, old chap.
Not at all, he says, and falls into the Doctor's embrace, his kiss.
Sometimes the Doctor is tender, sometimes he's demanding. The act itself varies; in their youth, they discovered a myriad of ways to satisfy each other. Though he's spent centuries trying to forget, his body remembers.
The conclusion is the same, though; the Master wakes alone in his luxurious cell, in need of a shower, with a hollow feeling between his hearts.
Summoning Trouble (CRACK!)
"Don't worry, Doctor." He looked up, to see the Master step out of the shadows. "Miss Grant is safe, and will remain so as long as you co-operate."
"What do you want?"
"I ... need your help, Doctor." He was surprised to see the Master looking embarrassed."
"What have you summoned this time?"
The Master straightened indignantly, but then slumped almost imperceptibly. "It was supposed to gather personal power, but instead ... "
"Yes?"
"It's going to kill me horribly in just over an hour," the Master said. "Unless I feed it."
"Feed it with what?"
The Master's voice was nearly inaudible. "Sex."
The Flowering of Desire (CRACK!)
Jo knew she should look away, but the sight of the Doctor and the Master in a tangle of sweaty limbs was too much to resist. She must have made some small noise; though they didn't stop what they were doing, they both looked over at her.
"TARDIS," the Doctor gasped. "Gas masks. Filter out the spores."
"Spores?" Now that she looked, she realized they were lying in a bed of flowers.
"Perfectly harmless to you apes," the Master said. "But to a Time Lord -- "
"Oh!" she said, realizing what they were going on about. "It's an alien sex pollen!"
Imposing Conditions (humor)
"I have something for you," the Doctor says, and holds out something -- a small cylinder wrapped in elegant black paper.
The Master hesitates just a fraction of a second before accepting it. "For me, Doctor? And it's not even my birthday."
"Just something to say that I was thinking of you."
The Master slits the paper open, and one elegant eyebrow arches. "Beard conditioner, Doctor?"
"The finest on the planet." The Doctor gives him a wicked grin.
"After all, I'd hate to explain to the Brigadier why I'm showing up at UNIT headquarters with a severe case of beard burn."
Tenth Doctor/Simm!Master
Six Fatal Words (angst)
"I suppose I should thank you," the Master said, on their second day aboard the Valiant. "None of this would have been possible without your help."
The Doctor kept his silence.
"If it hadn't been for you, Britain would still be heading into a golden age under my predecessor. I would have had a much harder time gaining a foothold." His smile grew vicious. "But you decided to throw that glorious future away in a fit of pique, a moment of petty self-righteous indignation."
He swept his arm toward the devastation below. "All of this, because you spoke six words."
Uncomfortable Comfort (hurt/comfort)
He is the Master. The Earth cowers beneath his feet.
But it takes all of his considerable willpower not to cry out as the drums batter his consciousness. The pain is blinding, nauseating, and he sends away everyone but the Doctor before they can witness his collapse.
He hates himself for his weakness as he crawls into the Doctor's tent, driven by the sheer animal need for physical touch. But he loathes the Doctor for the tenderness with which he wraps his arms around the Master, holds him as sobs wrack his body and the drums pound through his mind.
Lust of the Time Lords (CRACK!)
The Doctor knelt over the Master, begging his oldest friend, his dearest enemy, to regenerate. To give himself one more chance.
To give them one more chance.
The Doctor thought of the words he'd sworn he'd never speak. But if he didn't say them now, he'd be throwing away his only chance.
He leaned close and whispered three words into the Master's ear. For a long moment there was no response, but then the Master's body turned to light as his regeneration began.
"What did you say to him?" Jack asked.
The Doctor went red, and mumbled "Unlimited blow jobs."
Regeneration Frustration (humor)
The Doctor raised his hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the blinding flood of regeneration energy. He knew he should look away from the golden cascade, but he wanted to hold on to the last memory of the Master's previous face, to be the first to see his new face as it emerged.
The Master's body was changing as well; his perfectly tailored suit suddenly tight across broader shoulders.
Finally the brilliant energy began to fade, letting the Doctor see the Master's new regeneration clearly for the fist time.
"You would be ginger," he muttered. "Just to spite me."
A Matter of Definition (CRACK!)
"Doctor," the Master looked up from his computer terminal. "What does 'uke' mean?"
"It's a Japanese martial arts term for the receiver during practice."
"We're definitely not engaged in any martial art that I've ever heard of."
The Doctor sighed. "Fanfiction, again?"
"Yes. It says that you're the perfect uke."
"I am not!"
The Master smirked. "I should review, and tell them how right they are."
"I think I'll dispute that characterization ... right here, right now."
Half an hour later they lay sweaty, exhausted, and rug-burned.
"If you wanted me to top," the Doctor said, "you could have just asked."
The Obvious (CRACK!)
"Why is it called a sixty-nine?"
The Master sighed. "Must you read over my shoulder?"
"I was just curious, is all. Trying to work out the numerical significance -- "
"Of my pornographic fanfiction? Really, Doctor, you're handling my imprisonment worse than I am. Now lie down."
"I'm not tired, to the contrary, I -- "
"Lie down, and I'll show you."
The Doctor looked dubiously at him, but obeyed. The Master lay down opposite him. "My head is the loop of the six, yours is the loop of the nine."
"How depressingly obvious. But convenient," the Doctor added, and leaned his head forward.
Nothing Binds Like the Panties of Love (CRACK!)
"Universe needs saving," the Doctor said. "I have to go."
"And leave me here, stuck in the TARDIS all alone?" the Master asked.
"Just for a few hours."
The Master gave him a skeptical look.
"Maybe a day or two," the Doctor admitted.
The Master passed him a handful of soft fabric.
"Silk panties?"
"Something to remember me by."
Seven hours later, the Doctor returned, walking carefully. "Do you realize how annoying those are? They roll up and shift and bind at the worst possible moment. And you wanted me to wear them to remember you by?"
The Master smirked.
Three's A Crowd (CRACK!)
The Adipose are gone, the world is safe, and even though the Doctor is never quite ready to go back to the TARDIS anymore, it wouldn't be fair to Donna to give her false hope.
There's no way he can safely bring her along.
But it's not the first time she's helped him, and maybe it wouldn't hurt to let her take a little peek ...
"If you'll wait out here for just a minute," he says, and slips inside. But of course she follows him through the door --
"Oi! Why've you got the Prime Minister chained up in your TARDIS?"
Even Better Than Chamomile Tea (hurt/comfort>
"Doctor, it hurts." The Master uncoiled enough to look up, though he kept his hands pressed against the sides of his head.
The Doctor knelt in front of him. "Do you want me to help you sleep?" It was the only thing that helped when the drums were this loud; even so, the Master sometimes resisted.
This time, though, the Master whispered "please." The Doctor pressed his fingers against the Master's temples. With the deftness of long practice, he dropped the Master into a sleep so deep he didn't stir, even when the Doctor shifted him gently to the bed.
Never Too Late (fluff)
"Really, Doctor. It's bad enough that you insist upon celebrating some ridiculous Earth holiday, but you are eleven hours, forty-three minutes, and nineteen seconds late."
"You've spent the past three days hiding," the Doctor reminded him. "Otherwise you would have gotten this over with."
"I was hoping you'd give up this foolishness once the day itself had passed."
"You should know by now; I'll never give up on you."
For a fraction of a second the Master's expression softened, then he forced his mask back into place. "I suppose I've put this off as long as possible. Lead on, Doctor."
Unintended (horror)
"Would you like to watch Teletubbies?" the Doctor asked, trying to keep the despair out of his voice. The Master padded along after him.
By the time he'd finally worked out how to get rid of the drums, the Master had been desperate for relief. Neither one of them had thought about how the Master's personality had built itself around their constant presence; they certainly never predicted the effect of their absence.
Not until it was too late.
The universe was safe, now. The Master would never again be a threat to anyone.
He just had to live with it.
female!Doctor/female!Master
A Dance As Old As Time (saffic)
She sat at the bar, smoking a long-handled cigarette. She had hair the color of a black hole's heart, and eyes like glacial ice.
The Doctor wasn't fooled; she'd recognize the Master anywhere or anywhen, even if he was also a she. (And she didn't want to think about the implications of them both having female regenerations at the same time.)
The Master looked over, gaze drawn like iron filings to a magnet. She stood, and the Doctor couldn't help noticing her long legs, the fit of her black dress.
She found herself smiling. It was time to dance again.
bitty!Doctor/bitty!Master
Knock-Down Ginger (reminiscence)
After the day they've had, the Doctor decides, they deserve an afternoon stroll. Donna lets him choose their path, and they walk through a quiet suburban neighborhood in companionable silence.
Two boys, maybe eight years old, plot mischief together; a trick of the wind blows their words to the wanderers. "I dare you to knock-down ginger Mrs. Bucket's house."
"You ever do that where you're from?" Donna asks. "Knock on someone's door and run away?"
"No, of course not. Wouldn't be dignified for a future Time Lord."
She can tell by his smile that he knows she knows he's lying.
Unspecified Doctor/Unspecified Master
How (Not) to Defeat the Doctor (humor)
They're trying to kill each other -- again -- and the Master gets the upper hand. He shoves the Doctor back against the wall, hard enough to drop him to the floor, stunned.
He can't resist gloating, mouth stretching into a smirk as he walks to stand over his fallen foe. He drops into a crouch in front of him.
"Well, well," he says, savoring his victory. "Nothing to say?"
The Doctor shakes his head to clear it. "You should know better than to gloat."
"And what, exactly, do you plan on doing about it?"
"This," the Doctor says, and kisses him.
Third Doctor/Delgado!Master
The Hearts of Evil
The Master had believed for centuries that he was over his idiot schoolboy crush. That it had died with his first body, or perhaps been crushed out of him by the force of the black hole.
He planned the Doctor's demise, but something went wrong. He told himself that he only fought to save the Doctor from the intelligence inhabiting the Keller machine because he needed him alive to carry out his revised plan.
But why, of everything he'd seen, was it the Doctor's mockery that the machine tormented him with?
And why did that image still break his hearts?
Conjugal Visitation (angst)
The dream always starts the same: Miss Grant not with you today, Doctor?
I'd rather we have some time alone, if you don't mind, old chap.
Not at all, he says, and falls into the Doctor's embrace, his kiss.
Sometimes the Doctor is tender, sometimes he's demanding. The act itself varies; in their youth, they discovered a myriad of ways to satisfy each other. Though he's spent centuries trying to forget, his body remembers.
The conclusion is the same, though; the Master wakes alone in his luxurious cell, in need of a shower, with a hollow feeling between his hearts.
Summoning Trouble (CRACK!)
"Don't worry, Doctor." He looked up, to see the Master step out of the shadows. "Miss Grant is safe, and will remain so as long as you co-operate."
"What do you want?"
"I ... need your help, Doctor." He was surprised to see the Master looking embarrassed."
"What have you summoned this time?"
The Master straightened indignantly, but then slumped almost imperceptibly. "It was supposed to gather personal power, but instead ... "
"Yes?"
"It's going to kill me horribly in just over an hour," the Master said. "Unless I feed it."
"Feed it with what?"
The Master's voice was nearly inaudible. "Sex."
The Flowering of Desire (CRACK!)
Jo knew she should look away, but the sight of the Doctor and the Master in a tangle of sweaty limbs was too much to resist. She must have made some small noise; though they didn't stop what they were doing, they both looked over at her.
"TARDIS," the Doctor gasped. "Gas masks. Filter out the spores."
"Spores?" Now that she looked, she realized they were lying in a bed of flowers.
"Perfectly harmless to you apes," the Master said. "But to a Time Lord -- "
"Oh!" she said, realizing what they were going on about. "It's an alien sex pollen!"
Imposing Conditions (humor)
"I have something for you," the Doctor says, and holds out something -- a small cylinder wrapped in elegant black paper.
The Master hesitates just a fraction of a second before accepting it. "For me, Doctor? And it's not even my birthday."
"Just something to say that I was thinking of you."
The Master slits the paper open, and one elegant eyebrow arches. "Beard conditioner, Doctor?"
"The finest on the planet." The Doctor gives him a wicked grin.
"After all, I'd hate to explain to the Brigadier why I'm showing up at UNIT headquarters with a severe case of beard burn."
Tenth Doctor/Simm!Master
Six Fatal Words (angst)
"I suppose I should thank you," the Master said, on their second day aboard the Valiant. "None of this would have been possible without your help."
The Doctor kept his silence.
"If it hadn't been for you, Britain would still be heading into a golden age under my predecessor. I would have had a much harder time gaining a foothold." His smile grew vicious. "But you decided to throw that glorious future away in a fit of pique, a moment of petty self-righteous indignation."
He swept his arm toward the devastation below. "All of this, because you spoke six words."
Uncomfortable Comfort (hurt/comfort)
He is the Master. The Earth cowers beneath his feet.
But it takes all of his considerable willpower not to cry out as the drums batter his consciousness. The pain is blinding, nauseating, and he sends away everyone but the Doctor before they can witness his collapse.
He hates himself for his weakness as he crawls into the Doctor's tent, driven by the sheer animal need for physical touch. But he loathes the Doctor for the tenderness with which he wraps his arms around the Master, holds him as sobs wrack his body and the drums pound through his mind.
Lust of the Time Lords (CRACK!)
The Doctor knelt over the Master, begging his oldest friend, his dearest enemy, to regenerate. To give himself one more chance.
To give them one more chance.
The Doctor thought of the words he'd sworn he'd never speak. But if he didn't say them now, he'd be throwing away his only chance.
He leaned close and whispered three words into the Master's ear. For a long moment there was no response, but then the Master's body turned to light as his regeneration began.
"What did you say to him?" Jack asked.
The Doctor went red, and mumbled "Unlimited blow jobs."
Regeneration Frustration (humor)
The Doctor raised his hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the blinding flood of regeneration energy. He knew he should look away from the golden cascade, but he wanted to hold on to the last memory of the Master's previous face, to be the first to see his new face as it emerged.
The Master's body was changing as well; his perfectly tailored suit suddenly tight across broader shoulders.
Finally the brilliant energy began to fade, letting the Doctor see the Master's new regeneration clearly for the fist time.
"You would be ginger," he muttered. "Just to spite me."
A Matter of Definition (CRACK!)
"Doctor," the Master looked up from his computer terminal. "What does 'uke' mean?"
"It's a Japanese martial arts term for the receiver during practice."
"We're definitely not engaged in any martial art that I've ever heard of."
The Doctor sighed. "Fanfiction, again?"
"Yes. It says that you're the perfect uke."
"I am not!"
The Master smirked. "I should review, and tell them how right they are."
"I think I'll dispute that characterization ... right here, right now."
Half an hour later they lay sweaty, exhausted, and rug-burned.
"If you wanted me to top," the Doctor said, "you could have just asked."
The Obvious (CRACK!)
"Why is it called a sixty-nine?"
The Master sighed. "Must you read over my shoulder?"
"I was just curious, is all. Trying to work out the numerical significance -- "
"Of my pornographic fanfiction? Really, Doctor, you're handling my imprisonment worse than I am. Now lie down."
"I'm not tired, to the contrary, I -- "
"Lie down, and I'll show you."
The Doctor looked dubiously at him, but obeyed. The Master lay down opposite him. "My head is the loop of the six, yours is the loop of the nine."
"How depressingly obvious. But convenient," the Doctor added, and leaned his head forward.
Nothing Binds Like the Panties of Love (CRACK!)
"Universe needs saving," the Doctor said. "I have to go."
"And leave me here, stuck in the TARDIS all alone?" the Master asked.
"Just for a few hours."
The Master gave him a skeptical look.
"Maybe a day or two," the Doctor admitted.
The Master passed him a handful of soft fabric.
"Silk panties?"
"Something to remember me by."
Seven hours later, the Doctor returned, walking carefully. "Do you realize how annoying those are? They roll up and shift and bind at the worst possible moment. And you wanted me to wear them to remember you by?"
The Master smirked.
Three's A Crowd (CRACK!)
The Adipose are gone, the world is safe, and even though the Doctor is never quite ready to go back to the TARDIS anymore, it wouldn't be fair to Donna to give her false hope.
There's no way he can safely bring her along.
But it's not the first time she's helped him, and maybe it wouldn't hurt to let her take a little peek ...
"If you'll wait out here for just a minute," he says, and slips inside. But of course she follows him through the door --
"Oi! Why've you got the Prime Minister chained up in your TARDIS?"
Even Better Than Chamomile Tea (hurt/comfort>
"Doctor, it hurts." The Master uncoiled enough to look up, though he kept his hands pressed against the sides of his head.
The Doctor knelt in front of him. "Do you want me to help you sleep?" It was the only thing that helped when the drums were this loud; even so, the Master sometimes resisted.
This time, though, the Master whispered "please." The Doctor pressed his fingers against the Master's temples. With the deftness of long practice, he dropped the Master into a sleep so deep he didn't stir, even when the Doctor shifted him gently to the bed.
Never Too Late (fluff)
"Really, Doctor. It's bad enough that you insist upon celebrating some ridiculous Earth holiday, but you are eleven hours, forty-three minutes, and nineteen seconds late."
"You've spent the past three days hiding," the Doctor reminded him. "Otherwise you would have gotten this over with."
"I was hoping you'd give up this foolishness once the day itself had passed."
"You should know by now; I'll never give up on you."
For a fraction of a second the Master's expression softened, then he forced his mask back into place. "I suppose I've put this off as long as possible. Lead on, Doctor."
Unintended (horror)
"Would you like to watch Teletubbies?" the Doctor asked, trying to keep the despair out of his voice. The Master padded along after him.
By the time he'd finally worked out how to get rid of the drums, the Master had been desperate for relief. Neither one of them had thought about how the Master's personality had built itself around their constant presence; they certainly never predicted the effect of their absence.
Not until it was too late.
The universe was safe, now. The Master would never again be a threat to anyone.
He just had to live with it.
female!Doctor/female!Master
A Dance As Old As Time (saffic)
She sat at the bar, smoking a long-handled cigarette. She had hair the color of a black hole's heart, and eyes like glacial ice.
The Doctor wasn't fooled; she'd recognize the Master anywhere or anywhen, even if he was also a she. (And she didn't want to think about the implications of them both having female regenerations at the same time.)
The Master looked over, gaze drawn like iron filings to a magnet. She stood, and the Doctor couldn't help noticing her long legs, the fit of her black dress.
She found herself smiling. It was time to dance again.