Fanfic: Dip 1/2
Author: Damnated (Cruci)
Fandom: Doctor Who (duh).
Rating: M for naughty things.
Pairing: Master/Ten
Summary: “The Valiant had been a fine setback. Fine enough that the two only Time Lords in existence found themselves in this situation afterwards. Fine enough that only someone as crazed as the Master could have ever thought it up -- although the Doctor did doubt his purpose had been ending up anything like this. Oh, but it was great. It was wonderful.”
Prompt: Master/Ten. Takeout food. Bonus points for creative use of chopsticks. (By
annis_pekka )
A/N: I got to say I’m not exactly a fanfiction writer - if I do write, it’s only a couple times a year. This summer, however, I was stranded without internet for a fairly long time and writing came naturally. Since this is my first Doctor Who fic, I hope to have got the Doctor and Master characters a least somewhat right and that you enjoy it. Comments are greatly encouraged. J
I’d also like to thank Inês for beta reading this work. :)
---
Eyes half closed, completely relaxed against the soft sheets, the Doctor sighed -- quietly listening to the joint heartbeats of the two pairs of hearts in the room while running a hand through his hair. Looking back, it had been worth it, definitely worth it. The journey had been bumpy, but in the end, it all accounted for the best.
If it just weren’t for the utterly annoying, conspicuous, silence.
It had been like this ever since the Doctor had returned from another of his - as the Master had once put it - planet saving, life rescuing little useless trips; ever since he’d walked through those doors again.
The Valiant had been a fine setback. Fine enough that the two only Time Lords in existence found themselves in this situation afterwards. Fine enough that only someone as crazed as the Master could have ever thought it up -- although the Doctor did doubt his purpose had been ending up anything like this. Oh, but it was great. It was wonderful.
It was more than anything he’d ever dared to hope for.
“Doctor,” there was a muffled grunt, shifting, the bed springs screeching as if they hadn’t been oiled for centuries and a commanding elbow digging against his ribs, “Move it.”
And it made him smile.
---
The TARDIS had helped, of course; she’d gladly welcomed the Doctor back home (sort off) after he’d been questioned for hours at the hands of alien mercenaries, after he’d just helped stop an intergalactic war, while the other Time Lord present did nothing but stare and sigh, as if he were bored of this sort of routine.
Both her inhabitants - if the other could ever be called something but a reluctant passenger or an unruly prisoner - were silent and her machinery was quiet for once, nothing of the usual buzzes and crashes. It was almost unbelievable that such two opposite characters could behave properly to each other, by not fighting or badgering each other around her control room. But she knew better.
They glared at one another - and if glares could kill, they’d both be long gone, with or without regenerations.
Truth be told, the Master had to admit that traveling with the Doctor had become much less exciting than promised. He almost sighed, and didn’t because giving an enemy the satisfaction of victory wasn’t anything like him. Oh no. He’d stand it. If necessary he’d stand it forever, but he’d never give up. Though of course, the other options were quite more promising on that party. Battles across the constellations? He wasn’t even allowed outside - not by the other’s orders, but the TARDIS (that damned machine) wouldn’t let him put a foot outside without viciously zapping him.
…Though maybe that had to do with that time he’d tried to slip away without warning the Doctor… oh well.
The Master stood motionless on a particularly shadowed corner, his glare burning fiercely through the TARDIS and onto a frowning Doctor, who tilted his head curiously for a moment, before sighing and just mimicking the gesture. It’d been like this for a few (linear) months now, if anything, however additional time they spent on each other’s presence only made it worse, including the Doctor’s last adventure. They had never talked much much or for long about any subject since the academy (good times), but now it was almost as if the Doctor didn’t exist for the Master and not quite vice versa.
However, this specific clash had nothing to do with that, or at least, not directly.
A regular, annoying tapping noise broke the silence, promptly causing the TARDIS devices to churn back into life, accompanying the drumming in its rhythm and making the Doctor take one moment from glaring at the master to direct his attentions to the TARDIS’ core.
“Oh! Not you too!” He cried, picking up a plastic axe from the console panel, hitting the machine with it. “Stop it!”
It didn’t, well mostly.
“Could you stop that?” The Doctor snapped, “It’s annoying enough by itself, with you doing it too, it’s just evil.” He spoke to the TARDIS herself, turning away from the Master, he had other things to worry about at the moment, never mind him.
While the TARDIS did pause, shaking and churning, like an annoyed child after a moment, the Master simply rolled his eyes at the Doctor, but continued to tap away for a few moments - the time it took the Master to exchange his glare for a mildly annoyed look - the thudding stopped, only to quickly restart on a quicker note as if nothing had happened.
---
Not long ago, about a couple weeks before, the Doctor had found an extrapolated distress signal, something tiny, infinitely small but burning across galaxies with the strength - well, with the strength of alien technology which he’d seldom seen before. Something that ought not to be, that shouldn’t exist, not there and not now, not ever. But it did, and leaving it alone, to be discovered and exploited just wouldn’t do it.
“Oh, come on,” The Master had mocked, “Surely not the entire Universe needs you. Not every single creature is waving his hands at the stars and crying ‘boo hoo’ the Doctor is not here to help me.” He sobbed theatrically.
Leave it be, the Master had said, but the TARDIS had brought him here for a reason and that alone had been enough to spark the Doctor’s curiosity, and getting away from the Master’s corrosive comments was something he needed more than always. Living with the other Time Lord had turned out to be a tad more difficult than the Doctor had anticipated and releasing him, free to roam on the wide universe, just wasn’t an option, it would never be; despite having promised to help.
Turns out, Slera, as known by its natives had been hit by a particularly nasty meteor storm from a nearby gaseous planet with a belt of rocks, and - has humans had the habit of saying - all hell had broke loose. While some of the planet’s cities had been badly damaged, alongside its main production factories and farms, that wasn’t enough; their twin planet (following a radically different and potentially harmful policy) declared war against their debris covered neighbors.
However, it hadn’t been natural, the storm hadn’t.
“But why. Why do they want this planet?” the Doctor had questioned himself, and the Master, and the TARDIS. “They’ve got nothing. No riches, no oceans to extract from, almost no atmosphere… Only that… intergalactic takeout franchise. It makes no sense.”
“And you just realized that now?” Tap tap tap. “For one of us, you’re surprisingly thick, Doctor.”
It had been terrible. Perhaps even more terrible than crying over the Master’s cold, dead body; than knowing he was alone in the Universe again - albeit for a short amount of time. Seeing all that bloodshed all over again while trying to stop it from ever happening definitely had left its mark.
Even without the means to properly defend themselves, the Slenarians had been able to counter some of their neighbor’s attacks - almost completely destroying both planets in the process. When the Doctor had finally managed to interfere, both planets and respective races had crafted such intricate plots to defeat each other, to completely annihilate the other, that it seemed hopeless to try and stop them. But the Doctor did, stormed right into the middle of it, all blaze and anger, reverting it all so that Slena was never in danger - all those deaths, gone.
The weight on his shoulders seemed to increase when, after stumbling back in the TARDIS, the Master had nodded, grinning. “I told you so.”
The price paid to save the two planets, had been high, and the Doctor certainly hadn’t been left completely unharmed, in every way. But it had all been worth it, or at least he tried to convince himself of that, all the while bandaging his wounded leg on the back a TARDIS store room. Maybe not. On the bright side, he’d managed to save one of the Galaxy’s most successful (and delicious, for some) takeout and fast food companies.
It wasn’t exactly a Time Lord’s goal. No. Surely, millions of humanoids had been left to survive on it during the last great economic crisis, mostly due to being and having managed to conquer its way through several different planets and star systems through trade conventions. Though, none of it made him less of laughing stock on the Master’s eyes. And that was annoying, more even; it was like traveling with an ever present itch, one that you can’t scratch; one that would increase tenfold every time he faced the Master again.
Tap tap tap.
---
“Look, I’m going to do it, Master.” Came the Doctor’s voice again, and whichever reaction, probably a snorted comeback, the other Time lord might have had by for being called by his rightful name was quickly forgotten.
“Doctor… Doctor. That’s disgusting.” Replied the Master without pausing on the tapping for even a moment, knowing better than to just please the Doctor, even for once.
“It’s not! Millions of people -“ He was cut off.
“Doesn’t change the fact that it is disgusting.”
“Only because you never tried it doesn’t mean it is!”
“I have way better things to do with my time than order takeout.”
Like snogging with women right and left? “You’ve never tried it.” There was a pause, and the Doctor’s voice sounded almost pleading. “We could try it just once?”
The Master hissed, seemingly tired of the Doctor’s ever bubbly confidence, taking a step forward and out of his dark hideout. “We? Well, let’s see… we will do nothing. You… have the privilege of doing whatever you want, but you will not make me eat that trash.”
Despite being slightly let down by the Master’s behavior even after all that time of some sort of companionship, he supposed; the Doctor smiled, waving the screwdriver he always carried towards something resembling a copy (or original) of an ancient phone from Earth.
“All right then.”
Settled.
---
A high pitch noise rang from one of the TARDIS many machines and suddenly there was a loud, echoing ringing that sounded through the console room as if there weren’t time locked doors to secure her, just something alike paper rice doors that were ripped open. Screaming, laughter, weeping… it could all be heard from the outside, from one of the many bustling Slenarian markets, which was also home to the mentioned, hated or loved, takeout food.
A second hadn’t even gone by and the Doctor was already peeking outside, speaking into one of Slena’s native tongues as if he’d been born there (which, let’s face it, wasn’t unusual for a Time Lord). There was nodding, some sort of waving that was in reality a complicated greeting ritual practiced in the planet, and finally the handing of currency and food back and forth, leaving the merchant - a tiny little blue man with tentacle like appendices crawling out of his uncovered chest - with a smile that started on the front of his face and went up until his shred like ears. And the doctor with a couple bags (seemingly cellophane) whose borders were tattered by the steaming food inside.
“Ow.” The Doctor strode through the TARDIS, quickly kicking open the door which led to the kitchen, or at least, it was supposed to be. “They don’t lie. That’s really hot.”
---
damnated.livejournal.com/17582.html Part Two
Fandom: Doctor Who (duh).
Rating: M for naughty things.
Pairing: Master/Ten
Summary: “The Valiant had been a fine setback. Fine enough that the two only Time Lords in existence found themselves in this situation afterwards. Fine enough that only someone as crazed as the Master could have ever thought it up -- although the Doctor did doubt his purpose had been ending up anything like this. Oh, but it was great. It was wonderful.”
Prompt: Master/Ten. Takeout food. Bonus points for creative use of chopsticks. (By
annis_pekka )
A/N: I got to say I’m not exactly a fanfiction writer - if I do write, it’s only a couple times a year. This summer, however, I was stranded without internet for a fairly long time and writing came naturally. Since this is my first Doctor Who fic, I hope to have got the Doctor and Master characters a least somewhat right and that you enjoy it. Comments are greatly encouraged. J
I’d also like to thank Inês for beta reading this work. :)
---
Eyes half closed, completely relaxed against the soft sheets, the Doctor sighed -- quietly listening to the joint heartbeats of the two pairs of hearts in the room while running a hand through his hair. Looking back, it had been worth it, definitely worth it. The journey had been bumpy, but in the end, it all accounted for the best.
If it just weren’t for the utterly annoying, conspicuous, silence.
It had been like this ever since the Doctor had returned from another of his - as the Master had once put it - planet saving, life rescuing little useless trips; ever since he’d walked through those doors again.
The Valiant had been a fine setback. Fine enough that the two only Time Lords in existence found themselves in this situation afterwards. Fine enough that only someone as crazed as the Master could have ever thought it up -- although the Doctor did doubt his purpose had been ending up anything like this. Oh, but it was great. It was wonderful.
It was more than anything he’d ever dared to hope for.
“Doctor,” there was a muffled grunt, shifting, the bed springs screeching as if they hadn’t been oiled for centuries and a commanding elbow digging against his ribs, “Move it.”
And it made him smile.
---
The TARDIS had helped, of course; she’d gladly welcomed the Doctor back home (sort off) after he’d been questioned for hours at the hands of alien mercenaries, after he’d just helped stop an intergalactic war, while the other Time Lord present did nothing but stare and sigh, as if he were bored of this sort of routine.
Both her inhabitants - if the other could ever be called something but a reluctant passenger or an unruly prisoner - were silent and her machinery was quiet for once, nothing of the usual buzzes and crashes. It was almost unbelievable that such two opposite characters could behave properly to each other, by not fighting or badgering each other around her control room. But she knew better.
They glared at one another - and if glares could kill, they’d both be long gone, with or without regenerations.
Truth be told, the Master had to admit that traveling with the Doctor had become much less exciting than promised. He almost sighed, and didn’t because giving an enemy the satisfaction of victory wasn’t anything like him. Oh no. He’d stand it. If necessary he’d stand it forever, but he’d never give up. Though of course, the other options were quite more promising on that party. Battles across the constellations? He wasn’t even allowed outside - not by the other’s orders, but the TARDIS (that damned machine) wouldn’t let him put a foot outside without viciously zapping him.
…Though maybe that had to do with that time he’d tried to slip away without warning the Doctor… oh well.
The Master stood motionless on a particularly shadowed corner, his glare burning fiercely through the TARDIS and onto a frowning Doctor, who tilted his head curiously for a moment, before sighing and just mimicking the gesture. It’d been like this for a few (linear) months now, if anything, however additional time they spent on each other’s presence only made it worse, including the Doctor’s last adventure. They had never talked much much or for long about any subject since the academy (good times), but now it was almost as if the Doctor didn’t exist for the Master and not quite vice versa.
However, this specific clash had nothing to do with that, or at least, not directly.
A regular, annoying tapping noise broke the silence, promptly causing the TARDIS devices to churn back into life, accompanying the drumming in its rhythm and making the Doctor take one moment from glaring at the master to direct his attentions to the TARDIS’ core.
“Oh! Not you too!” He cried, picking up a plastic axe from the console panel, hitting the machine with it. “Stop it!”
It didn’t, well mostly.
“Could you stop that?” The Doctor snapped, “It’s annoying enough by itself, with you doing it too, it’s just evil.” He spoke to the TARDIS herself, turning away from the Master, he had other things to worry about at the moment, never mind him.
While the TARDIS did pause, shaking and churning, like an annoyed child after a moment, the Master simply rolled his eyes at the Doctor, but continued to tap away for a few moments - the time it took the Master to exchange his glare for a mildly annoyed look - the thudding stopped, only to quickly restart on a quicker note as if nothing had happened.
---
Not long ago, about a couple weeks before, the Doctor had found an extrapolated distress signal, something tiny, infinitely small but burning across galaxies with the strength - well, with the strength of alien technology which he’d seldom seen before. Something that ought not to be, that shouldn’t exist, not there and not now, not ever. But it did, and leaving it alone, to be discovered and exploited just wouldn’t do it.
“Oh, come on,” The Master had mocked, “Surely not the entire Universe needs you. Not every single creature is waving his hands at the stars and crying ‘boo hoo’ the Doctor is not here to help me.” He sobbed theatrically.
Leave it be, the Master had said, but the TARDIS had brought him here for a reason and that alone had been enough to spark the Doctor’s curiosity, and getting away from the Master’s corrosive comments was something he needed more than always. Living with the other Time Lord had turned out to be a tad more difficult than the Doctor had anticipated and releasing him, free to roam on the wide universe, just wasn’t an option, it would never be; despite having promised to help.
Turns out, Slera, as known by its natives had been hit by a particularly nasty meteor storm from a nearby gaseous planet with a belt of rocks, and - has humans had the habit of saying - all hell had broke loose. While some of the planet’s cities had been badly damaged, alongside its main production factories and farms, that wasn’t enough; their twin planet (following a radically different and potentially harmful policy) declared war against their debris covered neighbors.
However, it hadn’t been natural, the storm hadn’t.
“But why. Why do they want this planet?” the Doctor had questioned himself, and the Master, and the TARDIS. “They’ve got nothing. No riches, no oceans to extract from, almost no atmosphere… Only that… intergalactic takeout franchise. It makes no sense.”
“And you just realized that now?” Tap tap tap. “For one of us, you’re surprisingly thick, Doctor.”
It had been terrible. Perhaps even more terrible than crying over the Master’s cold, dead body; than knowing he was alone in the Universe again - albeit for a short amount of time. Seeing all that bloodshed all over again while trying to stop it from ever happening definitely had left its mark.
Even without the means to properly defend themselves, the Slenarians had been able to counter some of their neighbor’s attacks - almost completely destroying both planets in the process. When the Doctor had finally managed to interfere, both planets and respective races had crafted such intricate plots to defeat each other, to completely annihilate the other, that it seemed hopeless to try and stop them. But the Doctor did, stormed right into the middle of it, all blaze and anger, reverting it all so that Slena was never in danger - all those deaths, gone.
The weight on his shoulders seemed to increase when, after stumbling back in the TARDIS, the Master had nodded, grinning. “I told you so.”
The price paid to save the two planets, had been high, and the Doctor certainly hadn’t been left completely unharmed, in every way. But it had all been worth it, or at least he tried to convince himself of that, all the while bandaging his wounded leg on the back a TARDIS store room. Maybe not. On the bright side, he’d managed to save one of the Galaxy’s most successful (and delicious, for some) takeout and fast food companies.
It wasn’t exactly a Time Lord’s goal. No. Surely, millions of humanoids had been left to survive on it during the last great economic crisis, mostly due to being and having managed to conquer its way through several different planets and star systems through trade conventions. Though, none of it made him less of laughing stock on the Master’s eyes. And that was annoying, more even; it was like traveling with an ever present itch, one that you can’t scratch; one that would increase tenfold every time he faced the Master again.
Tap tap tap.
---
“Look, I’m going to do it, Master.” Came the Doctor’s voice again, and whichever reaction, probably a snorted comeback, the other Time lord might have had by for being called by his rightful name was quickly forgotten.
“Doctor… Doctor. That’s disgusting.” Replied the Master without pausing on the tapping for even a moment, knowing better than to just please the Doctor, even for once.
“It’s not! Millions of people -“ He was cut off.
“Doesn’t change the fact that it is disgusting.”
“Only because you never tried it doesn’t mean it is!”
“I have way better things to do with my time than order takeout.”
Like snogging with women right and left? “You’ve never tried it.” There was a pause, and the Doctor’s voice sounded almost pleading. “We could try it just once?”
The Master hissed, seemingly tired of the Doctor’s ever bubbly confidence, taking a step forward and out of his dark hideout. “We? Well, let’s see… we will do nothing. You… have the privilege of doing whatever you want, but you will not make me eat that trash.”
Despite being slightly let down by the Master’s behavior even after all that time of some sort of companionship, he supposed; the Doctor smiled, waving the screwdriver he always carried towards something resembling a copy (or original) of an ancient phone from Earth.
“All right then.”
Settled.
---
A high pitch noise rang from one of the TARDIS many machines and suddenly there was a loud, echoing ringing that sounded through the console room as if there weren’t time locked doors to secure her, just something alike paper rice doors that were ripped open. Screaming, laughter, weeping… it could all be heard from the outside, from one of the many bustling Slenarian markets, which was also home to the mentioned, hated or loved, takeout food.
A second hadn’t even gone by and the Doctor was already peeking outside, speaking into one of Slena’s native tongues as if he’d been born there (which, let’s face it, wasn’t unusual for a Time Lord). There was nodding, some sort of waving that was in reality a complicated greeting ritual practiced in the planet, and finally the handing of currency and food back and forth, leaving the merchant - a tiny little blue man with tentacle like appendices crawling out of his uncovered chest - with a smile that started on the front of his face and went up until his shred like ears. And the doctor with a couple bags (seemingly cellophane) whose borders were tattered by the steaming food inside.
“Ow.” The Doctor strode through the TARDIS, quickly kicking open the door which led to the kitchen, or at least, it was supposed to be. “They don’t lie. That’s really hot.”
---
damnated.livejournal.com/17582.html Part Two