DOCTOR WHO: Midday, President!Doctor drabble, Ainley/10 drabbles
CATCH UP POST! Containing all the Doctor Who fic I posted to best_enemies and not here. Just for the record, you know. All the Ainley/10 is TOTALLY X_LOS' FAULT, K??
Midday
or... The return of Ainley!Master and his pet 10.
*shifty looks at x_los*
Tis all your fault. You and your Ren Fair drabble.
Now they’re stuck in my brain….
The Master’s immediate reaction had been spitting anger, slamming the Doctor up against the wall and demanding to know exactly what had happened, and how the Doctor managed to find trouble everywhere, anyway?
However, his anger at the Doctor was cut short by judicious application of The Puppy Dog Eyes and The Wibbly Lip, and the various other sneaky tricks this regeneration used (sneakily).
“So…” The Master drawled, drawing lazy circles on the skin under the Doctor’s shirt, “Who exactly were these people on the bus?”
Circle, dot, line, line circle.
“There was Jethro, and the Professor, and Didi, and…” the Doctor stopped talking and purred, squirming under the ticklish caress, shifting himself so he practically lay on top of the Master.
“And?” The Master prompted mildly, shifting his circle drawing downwards.
“Wait a second…You’re not going to track them down and kill them, are you?”
“…No?”
The Doctor squinted lazily at him, “No?”
The Master rolled his eyes, and replied, “They tried to kill you. You hardly think I’m going to let them live, do you?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” The Doctor demurred, and the Master raised an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Stop it!”
“Stop it.”
“Master, cut it out.”
“Master, cut it out.”
“No, really, stop it.” The Doctor was shuddering now, and the Master sighed and pulled him closer.
“Are you sure I can’t kill them?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” He stood up, letting the Doctor thump back on to the mattress. “I’ll just go and fix the spatio-temporal fixture. I’ve been off by almost a minute for the last three landings, because I haven’t looked at it in a few weeks.”
“Ooh, almost a minute…” The Doctor rolled his eyes, and flopped over, burying his head in a pillow.
“In fact, at its current rate of decay, if I wait another, oh, let’s say, three hundred years, my TARDIS might start becoming as inaccurate as yours.”
“Low blow,” The Doctor mumbled from his pillow.
The Master smiled (evilly, of course) as he left the bedroom, and moved to the nearest dataport (which his TARDIS conveniently moved to the wall in front of him) and began a search.
“Search: passengers of Crusader fifty passenger bus, departed thirteen hundred hours and suffered a break down en route.”
He memorized the passenger list, and began to plan their horribly messy deaths as he padded down the corridor.
First, he had a new setting he’d just added to the TCE, which could-
“Master!”
“Hmm?” He turned around, raising an eyebrow at the rather off colour Doctor who was standing behind him, leaning on the wall and panting in a very distracting manner.
“Does the STF need fixing straight away?” (Could you please not go and kill the humans?)
“Well, I suppose that if you enjoy landing several minutes out of sync…” (Give me a good reason)
“Could you…uhh…that is, um…Could you come back to bed?” (Please?) The Doctor blushed. Cheater.
“Huh.” (I’m thinking.)
“Please?” (Go on…)
And now he was bringing out the Puppy Dog Eyes. That was totally cheating.
“Well. It can wait a little while.” (Okay, okay.)
The humans would die a horrible messy death for daring to touch his Doctor.
The Doctor snuggled up against him, making a small snuffly noise.
Very soon.
Then the Doctor licked his ear.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you were writing ‘mine’ over and over again on my back, Master.”
Well…horrible messy death could wait a little bit.
and a leedle drabble from a comment that x_los made many moons (posts) ago on best_enemies, concerning President!Doctor
“Mister President, I’d like to talk to you about the budget.”
“What now?”
“Well, we’re running suspiciously over, and could you have a look at our expenses?”
*sigh*
“Sure. Pass it over.”
“Our main problem is the second page, particularly the second item.”
“The Magesterial Astro-Spatio-TElemetric Radar? It does seem to take up quite a bit of money…and it requires six regular hours of Matrix access a day…”
“Yes, and while that isn’t particularly strange, it has only been on our budget for the last six months, sir.”
“In other words, since I became president.”
“Yes sir.”
“Seems a bit suspicious…so, this M.A.S.T.E.R…”
“Sir? Sir, what’s wrong?”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
AND ANOTHER AINLEY/10 DRABBLE
"You'd better get me out of here, you know. Or there won't be any repeat performances of that thing you say you like so much.. And, you said you're going to run into me at that backwater you've taken such a liking to in three days. If you don't get me out, I can't go, and if I can't go, then you *know* it's a paradox, and I don't know about you, but I really don't want Reapers on my hands."
The Doctor stood up and sighed, sulkily slouching off towards the guards, "...And what'll happen while you meet me? I'll end up stuck in the TARDIS. Can't meet myself, it's another paradox, can't go out, I'd cross my own timestream, can't do this, can't do that. So I'll be left trying to find something good on TV, which is unlikely in the time period we're heading too, and you have bad taste in music, so there's nothing to listen to because you don't trust me near iTunes. You don't believe in DVDs, and you won't let me upgrade your TARDIS. You don't even have a deck of cards..."
The Master smirked, and called through the bars, "But if you're good, when I get back, I might bring you a present!"
"...Yay." The Doctor replied sarcastically. "I can't wait to see what treasure you'll bring back form that dump."
"I thought you were ridiculously attatched to Earth.
"Now shut up and let me bust you out."
MORE MORE AINLEY/10
The Master was sulking, sitting on a jumpseat in the console room (an idea he'd taken from this Doctor's TARDIS. It was useful, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before), and not talking to the Doctor.
Still, he wasn't angry enough to stop the Doctor from fussing over him, holding a bag of ice to the lump on the back of his head and making sympathetic noises.
"Look, I'm *sorry*."
"No you aren't. You were practically grinning when you hit me."
The Doctor sighed and shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.
"Look, that was, like, five hundred years ago. I might have been grinning then, but I'm *sorry* now."
"It might have been over five hundred years ago for you, but it was less than an hour ago for me. And also, *like*? Has your vocabulary disappeared now you're senile?" He snorted, "Is this latest regeneration a valley girl?"
"Hey! Just cos your head hurts, it doesn't mean you can get all...insult-y. And I'll have you know this regeneration hasn't even been to America yet!"
"Insult-y?" The Master sighed and shook his head, and the Doctor tried to keep his ice-bag on the bruise. "And to think you just hit me over the head with a cricket bat. I was beaten by a man who can't even remember the correct adjective for insult."
"Unless you want me to take my ice, and myself, away for the evening, I'd shut up if I were you." The Doctor glared, and threw down the bag on another jump seat (Can't have too much of a good thing, The Master figured, so there were of the fold up seats on various places around the console). He threw his hands up in the air.
"And I repeat, it was over five hundred years ago for me! Although I'm starting to think prehaps I should take a page out of my fifth regeneration's book and find myself a sports bat. I'm more of a baseball person this time around, though."
Midday
or... The return of Ainley!Master and his pet 10.
*shifty looks at x_los*
Tis all your fault. You and your Ren Fair drabble.
Now they’re stuck in my brain….
The Master’s immediate reaction had been spitting anger, slamming the Doctor up against the wall and demanding to know exactly what had happened, and how the Doctor managed to find trouble everywhere, anyway?
However, his anger at the Doctor was cut short by judicious application of The Puppy Dog Eyes and The Wibbly Lip, and the various other sneaky tricks this regeneration used (sneakily).
“So…” The Master drawled, drawing lazy circles on the skin under the Doctor’s shirt, “Who exactly were these people on the bus?”
Circle, dot, line, line circle.
“There was Jethro, and the Professor, and Didi, and…” the Doctor stopped talking and purred, squirming under the ticklish caress, shifting himself so he practically lay on top of the Master.
“And?” The Master prompted mildly, shifting his circle drawing downwards.
“Wait a second…You’re not going to track them down and kill them, are you?”
“…No?”
The Doctor squinted lazily at him, “No?”
The Master rolled his eyes, and replied, “They tried to kill you. You hardly think I’m going to let them live, do you?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” The Doctor demurred, and the Master raised an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Stop it!”
“Stop it.”
“Master, cut it out.”
“Master, cut it out.”
“No, really, stop it.” The Doctor was shuddering now, and the Master sighed and pulled him closer.
“Are you sure I can’t kill them?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” He stood up, letting the Doctor thump back on to the mattress. “I’ll just go and fix the spatio-temporal fixture. I’ve been off by almost a minute for the last three landings, because I haven’t looked at it in a few weeks.”
“Ooh, almost a minute…” The Doctor rolled his eyes, and flopped over, burying his head in a pillow.
“In fact, at its current rate of decay, if I wait another, oh, let’s say, three hundred years, my TARDIS might start becoming as inaccurate as yours.”
“Low blow,” The Doctor mumbled from his pillow.
The Master smiled (evilly, of course) as he left the bedroom, and moved to the nearest dataport (which his TARDIS conveniently moved to the wall in front of him) and began a search.
“Search: passengers of Crusader fifty passenger bus, departed thirteen hundred hours and suffered a break down en route.”
He memorized the passenger list, and began to plan their horribly messy deaths as he padded down the corridor.
First, he had a new setting he’d just added to the TCE, which could-
“Master!”
“Hmm?” He turned around, raising an eyebrow at the rather off colour Doctor who was standing behind him, leaning on the wall and panting in a very distracting manner.
“Does the STF need fixing straight away?” (Could you please not go and kill the humans?)
“Well, I suppose that if you enjoy landing several minutes out of sync…” (Give me a good reason)
“Could you…uhh…that is, um…Could you come back to bed?” (Please?) The Doctor blushed. Cheater.
“Huh.” (I’m thinking.)
“Please?” (Go on…)
And now he was bringing out the Puppy Dog Eyes. That was totally cheating.
“Well. It can wait a little while.” (Okay, okay.)
The humans would die a horrible messy death for daring to touch his Doctor.
The Doctor snuggled up against him, making a small snuffly noise.
Very soon.
Then the Doctor licked his ear.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you were writing ‘mine’ over and over again on my back, Master.”
Well…horrible messy death could wait a little bit.
and a leedle drabble from a comment that x_los made many moons (posts) ago on best_enemies, concerning President!Doctor
“Mister President, I’d like to talk to you about the budget.”
“What now?”
“Well, we’re running suspiciously over, and could you have a look at our expenses?”
*sigh*
“Sure. Pass it over.”
“Our main problem is the second page, particularly the second item.”
“The Magesterial Astro-Spatio-TElemetric Radar? It does seem to take up quite a bit of money…and it requires six regular hours of Matrix access a day…”
“Yes, and while that isn’t particularly strange, it has only been on our budget for the last six months, sir.”
“In other words, since I became president.”
“Yes sir.”
“Seems a bit suspicious…so, this M.A.S.T.E.R…”
“Sir? Sir, what’s wrong?”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
AND ANOTHER AINLEY/10 DRABBLE
"You'd better get me out of here, you know. Or there won't be any repeat performances of that thing you say you like so much.. And, you said you're going to run into me at that backwater you've taken such a liking to in three days. If you don't get me out, I can't go, and if I can't go, then you *know* it's a paradox, and I don't know about you, but I really don't want Reapers on my hands."
The Doctor stood up and sighed, sulkily slouching off towards the guards, "...And what'll happen while you meet me? I'll end up stuck in the TARDIS. Can't meet myself, it's another paradox, can't go out, I'd cross my own timestream, can't do this, can't do that. So I'll be left trying to find something good on TV, which is unlikely in the time period we're heading too, and you have bad taste in music, so there's nothing to listen to because you don't trust me near iTunes. You don't believe in DVDs, and you won't let me upgrade your TARDIS. You don't even have a deck of cards..."
The Master smirked, and called through the bars, "But if you're good, when I get back, I might bring you a present!"
"...Yay." The Doctor replied sarcastically. "I can't wait to see what treasure you'll bring back form that dump."
"I thought you were ridiculously attatched to Earth.
"Now shut up and let me bust you out."
MORE MORE AINLEY/10
The Master was sulking, sitting on a jumpseat in the console room (an idea he'd taken from this Doctor's TARDIS. It was useful, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before), and not talking to the Doctor.
Still, he wasn't angry enough to stop the Doctor from fussing over him, holding a bag of ice to the lump on the back of his head and making sympathetic noises.
"Look, I'm *sorry*."
"No you aren't. You were practically grinning when you hit me."
The Doctor sighed and shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.
"Look, that was, like, five hundred years ago. I might have been grinning then, but I'm *sorry* now."
"It might have been over five hundred years ago for you, but it was less than an hour ago for me. And also, *like*? Has your vocabulary disappeared now you're senile?" He snorted, "Is this latest regeneration a valley girl?"
"Hey! Just cos your head hurts, it doesn't mean you can get all...insult-y. And I'll have you know this regeneration hasn't even been to America yet!"
"Insult-y?" The Master sighed and shook his head, and the Doctor tried to keep his ice-bag on the bruise. "And to think you just hit me over the head with a cricket bat. I was beaten by a man who can't even remember the correct adjective for insult."
"Unless you want me to take my ice, and myself, away for the evening, I'd shut up if I were you." The Doctor glared, and threw down the bag on another jump seat (Can't have too much of a good thing, The Master figured, so there were of the fold up seats on various places around the console). He threw his hands up in the air.
"And I repeat, it was over five hundred years ago for me! Although I'm starting to think prehaps I should take a page out of my fifth regeneration's book and find myself a sports bat. I'm more of a baseball person this time around, though."