(no subject)
Who: Ninth Doctor charmandsmiles & Sixth Master iheardrums
What: Nine and the Master get drunk, play chess, talk, and somehow manage not to throttle each other this time, among other things.
When: 11/12, sometime after Nine's third entry.
Where: Ten's TARDIS
Rating: R
Nine sneakily made his way into Ten's TARDIS, avoiding its other inhabitants as he searched for the Master again. He was holding a bottle of Scotch in one hand, his other hand stuffed in his coat pocket. Wouldn't do for the Master to see he was injured, especially since he'd done it himself.
The Master was, as always, in his room, reclining in an armchair in the corner as he flipped through a book. It was one he'd read ten times already, but he hadn't gotten around to asking the Doctor for more yet. He sighed, setting it aside and resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall in frustration. He eyed the journal, but didn't pick it up to check on the castle's latest news.
Nine finally located him, raising an eyebrow at the Master. "Bit bored, are we?" he asked, before walking over and handing him the bottle.
He grinned at Nine as he took the Scotch. "Not now that you're around." The Master gestured to the other chair in the room. "Sit down, Doctor." He summoned a ghost and asked for a pair of glasses, then poured them both healthy measures of alcohol. "I hear you're living with Eight now," he commented as he handed him his glass.
Nine rolled his eyes, taking the glass after he sat. "Yeah, I am," he replied, sipping his drink a bit. "Hear you're married now, when did that happen?"
"Oh, you know, though it would help my political career." He smirked at Nine, sipping his own drink. "And, well, Lucy's a bit of a kindred spirit - or as much of one as a human can be, anyway. I quite like her." Which, regardless of what all the other Doctors said, was perfectly true.
"Why, because she's a kindred evil psychopath?" Nine chuckled, shaking his head.
"'Course she'd have to be, to put up with a bloke like you." Never mind the fact that he was currently putting up with said evil psychopath because...well, he didn't really know why.
He nodded. "I just gave her an outlet for it. I was the only person who accepted her for what she was." Winning Lucy over had been the simplest part of his plan, really - well, the whole thing had been a walk in the park, but Lucy had been more easily swayed than the rest of the populace. And, well, she loved him.
Nine snorted. "A match made in Hell, obviously. Can't wait to meet her, sounds absolutely charming." He took a longer sip. "You said something about a game of chess?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll love her just as much as your other regenerations do," he remarked dryly. Well, there was that whole mess with Five, but Eight and Ten both detested her, and it seemed likely that Nine would, too. He reached over and fetched a chess set from the small bookshelf, setting it up on the table in between them. "Did you ever manage to convince Miss Jones that she had no idea what she was talking about?"
"No idea," Nine shrugged. "I don't know her that well. Just told her to be careful," he replied, setting his glass down so he could help set up the board. "And you'll stay away from her, too," he added pointedly.
He rolled his eyes. "She's the one who's moving into the TARDIS," he pointed out. Besides, Martha was so boring. Her family was much more interesting - it was a pity they weren't here, he thought. "Anyway, your humans are quite dull. No fun at all, not even the Fact."
Nine raised an eyebrow again. "Somehow I don't believe you," he replied, putting the last piece in place and taking a sip of his drink again. Hopefully he'd be able to keep the Master distracted enough to be able to do everything one-handed. "But if you are telling the truth, I'm glad. Boring means you'll leave them alone."
He snorted and ticked them off on his fingers. "Sarah Jane - reclusive. Turlough - fun enough, but he lives with my other self. Rose - boring and blonde, Martha - boring and sanctimonious, Donna - boring and far too perverted. And...the Fact." The Master grimaced at the mention of Jack. "Even killing him can get old after awhile." He gestured to the chessboard. "You go first."
"Never thought you'd have a problem with perverted," Nine grinned, moving a middle pawn forward a couple of spaces. "So what are you going to be doing instead then, if not antagonizing my companions?"
"Staring at the walls, I expect." He contemplated the board for a moment before moving his own pawn. "Or antagonising everybody else in the castle. Particularly you." He looked up at the Doctor, smiling slightly.
"Why am I not surprised," Nine replied, rolling his eyes again as he moved another pawn, building up his line of defense. "I'd say I'd appreciate it if you kept the antagonizing everyone else to a minimum, but somehow I doubt you'll listen."
"Of course not." The Master eyed Nine's move, mentally calculating for a moment before pushing a pawn on the other side of the board. "And I'll thank you to leave Lucy well enough alone, by the way. Ten had to be taught the hard way; hopefully you'll be a little more receptive."
Nine shrugged. "I've got no reason to not leave her alone," he pointed out, moving to block the Master's pawn with one of his own. "She gives me a reason...well, that's a different story. Can't promise a thing."
He frowned before making another move. "Your other selves do nothing but slander me to her. It makes her upset, and I really don't like it when she's upset." Which, as Ten and Five could have told Nine, was an understatement.
Nine chuckled, pausing to finish off his Scotch before mirroring the Master's move. "I'll keep that in mind."
Master reached across the table to top of Nine's glass before contemplating his next move. "So, the castle took your memories of Rose from you."
Nine glanced at his glass, deciding more wouldn't hurt as he sipped it. "Yeah, Jack figured that one out. He told me a bit about her."
"Mm." The Master helped himself to some more Scotch before making his move. "She was involved with Ten here, I believe. She absorbed the power of the Time Vortex again to save him when my other self kidnapped him and tortured him, if I remember correctly."
Nine frowned. "Still don't know how she survived that the first time, much less a second."
The Master shrugged, sipping at his Scotch. "Don't ask me - I agree with you on that one. Your humans are good at sheer dumb luck, it would seem."
The frown turned into another grin, and Nine nodded. "Makes sense, so am I," he chuckled, concentrating on his drink for a bit before capturing one of the Master's pieces, proving said dumb luck.
The Master rolled his eyes - though whether it was at Nine or the capture of his pawn, he wasn't quite sure. "I think we both know that by now." Still, Nine had created an opening in his defence by capturing his pawn, and it was one he couldn't help but take advantage of.
Nine grumbled as the Master took advantage of the opening, building up his defense again, resisting the urge to scratch at his bandages.
The Master made his next move almost lazily, then leaned back in his chair to study Nine. He felt calmer today; the drums were a bit quieter, not roaring in a frenzied cadence like they had been during their previous meeting. Nine was different from the others, but he still needed to figure out exactly how. "You didn't destroy all the Daleks, you know. They still keep turning up, over and over again."
Nine growled. "I know. Jack told me we were fighting them when he died," he replied, glaring a hole into the chess board.
"And then," the Master added helpfully, "there was a battle at Canary Wharf between them and the Cybermen." He didn't know much about that, but he had been on Earth for it all the same, cautiously observing from his London townhouse. "And if Miss Jones is to be believed, they've appeared again. Honestly, they're worse than me."
"Cybermen. And more Daleks. Fantastic," Nine muttered, resisting the urge to hit something. Or someone. He downed the rest of his drink instead.
The difference between the Daleks and the Master was, in his opinion, that the Master was handsomer and wittier and much more brilliant. But, of course, he was biased. "More Scotch?" he asked Nine - though he doubted that the other man would turn it down.
Nine handed him his glass. He really didn't like Scotch all that much, honestly, he preferred a good banana daiquiri any day, but he wasn't in the mood for pleasing his taste-buds. He then made another move, not thinking too much about what he was doing.
He topped off Nine's glass again and handed it back to him, smiling slightly at his move. "Getting careless, are you?" he commented as he swiftly captured a piece. Granted, bringing up Daleks had been a conversational gambit meant to accomplish just that.
"Only because you're cheating," Nine replied bluntly, taking another sip before setting the glass aside and trying to calm himself down. "Just like I said you would."
"I'm not cheating," the Master points out. "It's not like I've got extra queens hidden up my sleeve or anything." Chess is a mental game, one that takes calm and concentration to win. It's not his fault if Nine can't manage either.
"You're riling me up," Nine grumbled, taking another one of the Master's pieces before taking another sip. "Stop it."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy." The Master smirked at him, nudging a rook into a different position.
Nine merely glared at him, moving one of his pieces out of the rook's path.
"Speaking of," he continued, chasing the piece with his rook, "how'd that...poking Eight with your banana go? Sounds quite kinky for you."
Nine blinked, then chuckled. "I walked right into that one, didn't I? Although," he grinned, "It's not a completely terrible idea..."
The Master grimaced. "Too much self-love for my taste." Not to mention that he was pretty sure that having sex with yourself was taboo in Gallifreyan culture, assuming you managed to meet yourself without ripping a hole in time and space. "And you'd probably both spend all your time wallowing in self-pity instead."
Nine, who was not one who particularly cared about whether or not something was taboo, snorted. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, either. And we would not," he grumbled. Never mind that they pretty much had been.
The Master was mainly opposed to it on the general principle that if anybody was fucking the Doctor, it ought to be him, not another Doctor. "Mm, well, it wouldn't work well between my selves and I. Too much of a power struggle. Probably a bit of a sensory overload from velvet, too. And you most certainly would, so don't be an idiot about it."
Nine just laughed, trying not to choke on his Scotch at the mental imagery of the Masters attempting to fuck each other. "Speaking of the velvet, what's with the suit this time around?"
"I quite like it, don't you?" The Master smoothed down one of the lapels of his jacket. "Very sleek and modern." Actually, he'd mainly started wearing the suits because that was what politicians did, but the mode of dress had grown on him over time.
"It's better than the velvet, at any rate." Nine hummed thoughtfully, returning to the board for a moment and making his move before looking back up at him. "I prefer leather, myself."
The Master snorted. "Yes, that's quite obvious. Trying to pull off the tough guy look this time around?" He idly nudged a piece into position.
Nine hmphed. "I pull it off very well, thank you very much," he replied, taking his time deciding his next move.
"Till you start crying, anyway," the Master retorts, leaning back in his chair as he sips his drink. Though he doubts that the man cries anywhere near as much as Ten - not that such a thing is physically possible, he thinks.
Nine laughed dryly. "Trust me when I say I'm not the crying type."
The Master smirked at him. "Of course not," and he leaves it at that. Still, this regeneration isn't too bad-looking, as far as he's concerned. More than a little arrogant, but that just means he'll be more fun to break.
Nine ignored the smirk, concentrating on making his next move before returning to his Scotch. It was a good thing he wasn't a light-weight this time around.
The Master, having spent a year and a half around British politicians, had become quite good at holding his liquor. He might have been smaller than the other man, but he was pretty sure that he could drink him under the table - not that he was planning on doing so. He preferred Nine still able to function, really.
Nine noticed how well the Master was holding his liquor, but he didn't particularly care. It wasn't as if he was going to drink enough for it to matter. Maybe. Depended on whether or not the Master brought up Daleks again. "Enjoying the game?" he asked idly.
"It's not bad," he admitted. "Though the conversation could use a little work." He didn't want to admit how much he'd enjoyed their previous talk, sexually charged and intense in a way the Doctor's other incarnations seemed to be incapable of. "Multitasking's never been one of your strong suits, though."
Nine rolled his eyes. "What sort of conversation were you expecting?" he asked, sipping his drink as he waited for the Master to make his move.
He shrugs, moving his queen into check. "Something a bit more interesting, like last time. Though I suppose there's only so many guilt-inducing topics to discuss." The Master runs his fingertips over the bruise on his face thoughtfully.
Nine twitched. "Care to make that bruise a little bigger?" he asked, moving a piece in front of his king.
The Master decides not to mention the bruises on his neck, thankfully covered by his shirt collar and tie. "You won't catch me by surprise again, Doctor," he says calmly, capturing the piece with a knight.
"No?" Nine grinned, capturing the knight with his rook. "I think I will."
He rolled his eyes and knocked out the rook with his trusty queen, putting Nine's king back in check. "You think far too highly of yourself, Doctor."
"Says the man who calls himself Master," Nine pointed out, moving his king out of check, making sure he wouldn't be cornered.
"Do you really have to resort to making fun of my name whenever you can't think of anything else, Doctor?" The Master switched tactics and moved a piece to go after Nine's remaining defence. "It got old after the first century."
"I'm just pointing out the irony," Nine shrugged, avoiding the attack. Not to mention he couldn't admit how very wrong the Master was about how highly he thought of himself.
"Yes, yes, irony." The Master snorted. "Don't make me start in on irony and hypocrisy, Doctor." He added some more Scotch to his glass before making another move.
Nine took the bottle from him, pouring himself another glass carefully before setting it back down. "Oh I know I'm a hypocrite, only difference is, I'll admit it."
He raised an eyebrow at Nine. "Well, now, you're just determined to make yourself as unlike the rest of your regenerations as possible, aren't you?"
Nine shrugged again. "I'm not as different as you think I am," he countered, making a move of his own before sipping his drink again.
"Pity." The Master studied the board carefully. "But not entirely surprising."
"Am I what you expected?" Nine asked curiously, watching him.
Truth be told, he hadn't given much thought to what Ten's predecessor would be like, preferring instead to concentrate on the Doctor he'd had in front of him. But this one - there was something deliciously dark about him that he hadn't thought he'd see in the Doctor. This regeneration, it had potential. "Yes and no," he answered carefully as he made his move.
Nine frowned at that answer. "Care to elaborate?" he asked, taking a moment to calculate his own move.
And, of course, the Master couldn't give everything away. "Mm." He swirled the Scotch in his glass for a moment, watching it. "Certain things remain the same from regeneration to regeneration, of course. But some things change. You know as well as I do that it's an unpredictable process."
Nine nodded, his own gaze going a bit distant as he remembered quite possibly the most painful and loneliest regeneration process he'd ever had. He downed the glass again, and made his move.
The Master was curious about Nine's regeneration process, but wasn't going to ask - not yet, anyway. They would, he knew, have plenty of time to talk. He frowned at the board instead. "I think we're headed towards a stalemate," he remarked. Which, in his opinion, was the sort of thing that tended to happen when you'd been fighting your opponent and analysing his tactics for centuries.
Nine rolled his eyes after the Master's comment snapped him out of his thoughts, and glanced at the board as well. "Seems so, yep. Still can't beat me, even after all the not-cheating?" he asked, amused.
"It wasn't cheating." Really, why would he need to cheat while playing chess with the Doctor? "I was just talking, that's all." And he'd just happened to mention Daleks. Coincidence, really.
"That's why I said 'not-cheating'," Nine pointed out. "Bit defensive, are we?"
The Master leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking at Nine over the tips. "Did I mention that I got elected Prime Minister? It was nice." He smiles, reminiscing for a moment.
"I'll take that as a yes then," Nine smirked, mimicking the Master and leaning back in his chair. "And let me guess...hypnotized people into voting your way, did you? Bet that didn't last long."
"I took over the world, actually." He sips his Scotch smugly. "And captured you and the Fact, so all in all, I don't think things went too badly."
Nine twitched. He had heard bits and pieces of this story, and it was all starting to come together in ways he really didn't like. "Good for you. It won't happen here."
"Never say never, Doctor." He chuckled, a sinister laugh that was low in his throat. "You'd probably look quite nice chained to a wall, I expect." Which wasn't quite what he had done to Ten, but there was no need to mention that.
Nine flinched a little, having actually been chained up before. The memory wasn't a pleasant one. "That's not gonna happen either."
"No? Not into bondage this time around?" He smirked at Nine. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can find something suitable."
Nine snorted. "You'll have to get out of this TARDIS, first."
"Ten's got the shortest attention span of any of you," the Master pointed out. "He'll forget about me soon enough." Though then he would probably end up being taken in by Eight, which wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time.
Nine shrugged. "Even if he does, doubt you'll be able to get to me easily. Not like I'm living alone," he reminded him. Never mind that he spent quite a bit of time wandering around the castle by himself.
The Master looked unimpressed. "And what if you come of your own free will?"
Nine flinched again, not wanting to admit that that was a high possibility. "You wish."
He rolled his eyes. "I give it a week, at the most."
"Keep dreaming, Master," Nine replied, before finishing off the bottle of Scotch and standing up.
He was actually a little surprised Nine was even capable of standing at this point - whether or not he'd be able to do the same was questionable, though he didn't have to. "Mm. I wouldn't call it a dream, per se." He flashed Nine a seductive smile.
Nine rolled his eyes. He was actually feeling a bit tipsy, but he wasn't about to show it, if he could help it. "No? What would you call it then?"
Clearly the Doctor was rubbish at picking up on innuendo when he was drunk - but the Master still didn't want to come out and admit that he'd get off on the thought of fucking him up against a wall (or any number of other places, for that matter). "Never mind." He waved his hand vaguely. "Will you be coming back tomorrow?"
Nine frowned, crossing his arms, which actually involved removing his hand from his pocket, but he wasn't particularly thinking straight. "'Course not," he replied, which may or may not have actually meant 'yes'.
He knew without asking that the answer was yes; he'd just wanted to see what Nine would say. He glanced at the other man's bandaged hand, raising an eyebrow. "How'd you hurt yourself?"
Nine winced. Damn. "Bit of an accident with a glass," he grumbled. "None of your business."
"Everything's my business." The Master smirked at him. "Tell me."
"No," Nine replied stubbornly, frowning again.
"Get angry with something and break it, did you?" This Doctor's grip on his control was precarious at best, which made it a pretty safe bet.
"....Maybe," Nine admitted reluctantly, wondering why he hadn't left yet. Hadn't he been about to do that?
"It happens so easily, doesn't it? The anger. It floods your mind and just...takes over, and you let it, because at least then you're feeling something." Another good guess, but the Master had always been especially perceptive when it came to the Doctor (even if he couldn't quite remember why).
Nine found himself wishing, once again, that the Master wasn't always right about him. Because it was true. "I'm not always angry," he insisted. "You just enjoy bringing it out of me," he grumbled.
Well, of course he did. "I'm not the one who made you break the glass," he pointed out smugly.
"...Point," Nine conceded. "But you're not going to find out any more about that."
“Right, of course not." The Master snorted. "Not till you tell me about it, anyway." Really, Nine was so much easier than the rest of them, it was almost pathetic.
"Not going to happen," Nine shrugged, and this time he really meant it. He wasn't about to betray Jack's confidence, especially not to the Master of all people.
He would find out eventually, one way or another. It was a weakness, and that meant he had to discover and exploit it. "Maybe we can have tea tomorrow," he said instead.
"...You want to have tea with me?" Nine asked, raising an eyebrow.
The Master shrugged. "Not much else to do, is there?" Though he would've preferred....other things, but he knew that would come, too, in time.
Nine actually considered the idea, and wondered if said consideration was due to the amount of Scotch he'd had. "I'll think about it," he decided, though he knew he'd probably end up showing anyway.
"Or we could have a book club," he remarked dryly. "Or...I don't know, something utterly boring and mundane." Or they could have awkward conversation while he tried to get a rise out of the Doctor, but that was pretty much a given.
Nine leaned back against the wall, mostly because standing was becoming a bit of a chore, but he didn't really want to sit back down again. That would imply that he was staying. Which he wasn't, clearly. "I'm the wrong incarnation to ask about a book club, that's Eight's sort of thing," he chuckled.
He had better things than books to discuss with Eight right now. "Well, then, what do you suggest?" The Master quirked an eyebrow at him.
Nine shrugged. "You're the one wanting to do things with me, you suggest something." Probably not the wisest choice of words, but it couldn't be helped.
Even Nine had to admit he'd walked right into that one. The Master grinned widely at him. "You know what I'd like to do."
Nine caught that bit of innuendo much more easily than he'd caught the last one. He snorted again. "Besides that." Not that he'd put up much of a fight if it happened, but he wasn't going to admit that any time soon.
He snorted. "I thought you said you weren't prudish."
"I'm not," Nine grinned, shaking his head. "I've just got better taste than that."
"I do think that's the most pathetic lie you've ever told, Doctor. Because that's never been true, and it certainly isn't now," he remarked.
"'Course it is," Nine frowned, fully aware of the fact that it wasn't. "I'm not lying."
"Mmhm." The Master folded his arms over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed. "You'll be gagging for it within a week."
Nine made a face. "More likely you'll be jealous of whoever else gets there first," he retorted.
"Oh? Are you making it a race now? Planning on fucking the first person who offers, just as long as they aren't me?" This regeneration seemed to be a bit, well, slutty. He wasn't sure he liked that.
Nine laughed. "Hardly. I'm not that easy. They've got to at least buy me a drink first," he smirked.
The Master gestured to the bottle of Scotch. "So it doesn't count if you bring the drinks yourself, then?"
"Nope, doesn't count," Nine replied, nodding. "Not that buying me one would help your chances, if that's what you're getting at."
The Master rolled his eyes. "You'd probably sleep with anybody who gave you a banana, anyway. Or with a banana."
"Maybe I would. Well, not the sleeping with the banana bit," Nine corrected, a bit disturbed by that.
Really, he wouldn't have been at all surprised if Nine had enjoyed masturbatory exploits with a banana. Still, it was only the work of a moment to get a banana from the ghosts; he extended his arm, offering it to the Doctor.
Nine grinned, taking the banana and peeling it. "Are you trying to seduce me with bananas?" he asked, munching on said banana.
He rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not?" Really, the Doctor should have been drunk enough to not have any problem with sleeping with them - not that all their sex involved drinking, but it usually helped him get over his silly issues with morals.
"Still not working," Nine smirked, honestly just having fun watching the Master's pathetic attempts to get into his pants. "Gonna have to try a bit harder than that."
"Oh, I can wait till you beg for it." The Master shrugged nonchalantly. "And don't say you won't, because you will. It's only a matter of time."
"You're the one trying to seduce me with bananas," Nine pointed out. "That's kind of on par with begging."
"I wasn't trying to seduce you, just seeing if you were easy enough to sleep with anyone who gave you a banana." Which was true, but Nine was proving a harder nut to crack than he'd first thought. What they needed was another good fight.
Nine wasn't going to give him a good fight unless he started it himself. "Like I said, you'll have to try a bit harder than that," he shrugged, finishing off his banana and tossing the peel at him.
He caught the peel and set it on the table. "I'll keep that in mind." The Master grinned at him; it was, he thought, better to catch him by surprise.
"You do that," Nine replied, rolling his eyes at the grin. He felt steady enough to walk now, and removed himself from the wall. "Have fun with...well, whatever it is you do in here by yourself," he added, not really wanting to think about whatever that was.
"I'll be thinking of you, Doctor." He gave the other man an unsettlingly cheerful grin and a wink. Hopefully he wouldn't miss the implications of that.
He didn't. "I bet you will," Nine muttered under his breath, before attempting to walk out of the TARDIS in a straight line.
He watched the Doctor leave - checking out his arse, and it wasn't half bad - still smirking to himself. He'd have him eventually, body and mind. It would just take time, and a Time Lord had plenty of that.
What: Nine and the Master get drunk, play chess, talk, and somehow manage not to throttle each other this time, among other things.
When: 11/12, sometime after Nine's third entry.
Where: Ten's TARDIS
Rating: R
Nine sneakily made his way into Ten's TARDIS, avoiding its other inhabitants as he searched for the Master again. He was holding a bottle of Scotch in one hand, his other hand stuffed in his coat pocket. Wouldn't do for the Master to see he was injured, especially since he'd done it himself.
The Master was, as always, in his room, reclining in an armchair in the corner as he flipped through a book. It was one he'd read ten times already, but he hadn't gotten around to asking the Doctor for more yet. He sighed, setting it aside and resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall in frustration. He eyed the journal, but didn't pick it up to check on the castle's latest news.
Nine finally located him, raising an eyebrow at the Master. "Bit bored, are we?" he asked, before walking over and handing him the bottle.
He grinned at Nine as he took the Scotch. "Not now that you're around." The Master gestured to the other chair in the room. "Sit down, Doctor." He summoned a ghost and asked for a pair of glasses, then poured them both healthy measures of alcohol. "I hear you're living with Eight now," he commented as he handed him his glass.
Nine rolled his eyes, taking the glass after he sat. "Yeah, I am," he replied, sipping his drink a bit. "Hear you're married now, when did that happen?"
"Oh, you know, though it would help my political career." He smirked at Nine, sipping his own drink. "And, well, Lucy's a bit of a kindred spirit - or as much of one as a human can be, anyway. I quite like her." Which, regardless of what all the other Doctors said, was perfectly true.
"Why, because she's a kindred evil psychopath?" Nine chuckled, shaking his head.
"'Course she'd have to be, to put up with a bloke like you." Never mind the fact that he was currently putting up with said evil psychopath because...well, he didn't really know why.
He nodded. "I just gave her an outlet for it. I was the only person who accepted her for what she was." Winning Lucy over had been the simplest part of his plan, really - well, the whole thing had been a walk in the park, but Lucy had been more easily swayed than the rest of the populace. And, well, she loved him.
Nine snorted. "A match made in Hell, obviously. Can't wait to meet her, sounds absolutely charming." He took a longer sip. "You said something about a game of chess?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll love her just as much as your other regenerations do," he remarked dryly. Well, there was that whole mess with Five, but Eight and Ten both detested her, and it seemed likely that Nine would, too. He reached over and fetched a chess set from the small bookshelf, setting it up on the table in between them. "Did you ever manage to convince Miss Jones that she had no idea what she was talking about?"
"No idea," Nine shrugged. "I don't know her that well. Just told her to be careful," he replied, setting his glass down so he could help set up the board. "And you'll stay away from her, too," he added pointedly.
He rolled his eyes. "She's the one who's moving into the TARDIS," he pointed out. Besides, Martha was so boring. Her family was much more interesting - it was a pity they weren't here, he thought. "Anyway, your humans are quite dull. No fun at all, not even the Fact."
Nine raised an eyebrow again. "Somehow I don't believe you," he replied, putting the last piece in place and taking a sip of his drink again. Hopefully he'd be able to keep the Master distracted enough to be able to do everything one-handed. "But if you are telling the truth, I'm glad. Boring means you'll leave them alone."
He snorted and ticked them off on his fingers. "Sarah Jane - reclusive. Turlough - fun enough, but he lives with my other self. Rose - boring and blonde, Martha - boring and sanctimonious, Donna - boring and far too perverted. And...the Fact." The Master grimaced at the mention of Jack. "Even killing him can get old after awhile." He gestured to the chessboard. "You go first."
"Never thought you'd have a problem with perverted," Nine grinned, moving a middle pawn forward a couple of spaces. "So what are you going to be doing instead then, if not antagonizing my companions?"
"Staring at the walls, I expect." He contemplated the board for a moment before moving his own pawn. "Or antagonising everybody else in the castle. Particularly you." He looked up at the Doctor, smiling slightly.
"Why am I not surprised," Nine replied, rolling his eyes again as he moved another pawn, building up his line of defense. "I'd say I'd appreciate it if you kept the antagonizing everyone else to a minimum, but somehow I doubt you'll listen."
"Of course not." The Master eyed Nine's move, mentally calculating for a moment before pushing a pawn on the other side of the board. "And I'll thank you to leave Lucy well enough alone, by the way. Ten had to be taught the hard way; hopefully you'll be a little more receptive."
Nine shrugged. "I've got no reason to not leave her alone," he pointed out, moving to block the Master's pawn with one of his own. "She gives me a reason...well, that's a different story. Can't promise a thing."
He frowned before making another move. "Your other selves do nothing but slander me to her. It makes her upset, and I really don't like it when she's upset." Which, as Ten and Five could have told Nine, was an understatement.
Nine chuckled, pausing to finish off his Scotch before mirroring the Master's move. "I'll keep that in mind."
Master reached across the table to top of Nine's glass before contemplating his next move. "So, the castle took your memories of Rose from you."
Nine glanced at his glass, deciding more wouldn't hurt as he sipped it. "Yeah, Jack figured that one out. He told me a bit about her."
"Mm." The Master helped himself to some more Scotch before making his move. "She was involved with Ten here, I believe. She absorbed the power of the Time Vortex again to save him when my other self kidnapped him and tortured him, if I remember correctly."
Nine frowned. "Still don't know how she survived that the first time, much less a second."
The Master shrugged, sipping at his Scotch. "Don't ask me - I agree with you on that one. Your humans are good at sheer dumb luck, it would seem."
The frown turned into another grin, and Nine nodded. "Makes sense, so am I," he chuckled, concentrating on his drink for a bit before capturing one of the Master's pieces, proving said dumb luck.
The Master rolled his eyes - though whether it was at Nine or the capture of his pawn, he wasn't quite sure. "I think we both know that by now." Still, Nine had created an opening in his defence by capturing his pawn, and it was one he couldn't help but take advantage of.
Nine grumbled as the Master took advantage of the opening, building up his defense again, resisting the urge to scratch at his bandages.
The Master made his next move almost lazily, then leaned back in his chair to study Nine. He felt calmer today; the drums were a bit quieter, not roaring in a frenzied cadence like they had been during their previous meeting. Nine was different from the others, but he still needed to figure out exactly how. "You didn't destroy all the Daleks, you know. They still keep turning up, over and over again."
Nine growled. "I know. Jack told me we were fighting them when he died," he replied, glaring a hole into the chess board.
"And then," the Master added helpfully, "there was a battle at Canary Wharf between them and the Cybermen." He didn't know much about that, but he had been on Earth for it all the same, cautiously observing from his London townhouse. "And if Miss Jones is to be believed, they've appeared again. Honestly, they're worse than me."
"Cybermen. And more Daleks. Fantastic," Nine muttered, resisting the urge to hit something. Or someone. He downed the rest of his drink instead.
The difference between the Daleks and the Master was, in his opinion, that the Master was handsomer and wittier and much more brilliant. But, of course, he was biased. "More Scotch?" he asked Nine - though he doubted that the other man would turn it down.
Nine handed him his glass. He really didn't like Scotch all that much, honestly, he preferred a good banana daiquiri any day, but he wasn't in the mood for pleasing his taste-buds. He then made another move, not thinking too much about what he was doing.
He topped off Nine's glass again and handed it back to him, smiling slightly at his move. "Getting careless, are you?" he commented as he swiftly captured a piece. Granted, bringing up Daleks had been a conversational gambit meant to accomplish just that.
"Only because you're cheating," Nine replied bluntly, taking another sip before setting the glass aside and trying to calm himself down. "Just like I said you would."
"I'm not cheating," the Master points out. "It's not like I've got extra queens hidden up my sleeve or anything." Chess is a mental game, one that takes calm and concentration to win. It's not his fault if Nine can't manage either.
"You're riling me up," Nine grumbled, taking another one of the Master's pieces before taking another sip. "Stop it."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy." The Master smirked at him, nudging a rook into a different position.
Nine merely glared at him, moving one of his pieces out of the rook's path.
"Speaking of," he continued, chasing the piece with his rook, "how'd that...poking Eight with your banana go? Sounds quite kinky for you."
Nine blinked, then chuckled. "I walked right into that one, didn't I? Although," he grinned, "It's not a completely terrible idea..."
The Master grimaced. "Too much self-love for my taste." Not to mention that he was pretty sure that having sex with yourself was taboo in Gallifreyan culture, assuming you managed to meet yourself without ripping a hole in time and space. "And you'd probably both spend all your time wallowing in self-pity instead."
Nine, who was not one who particularly cared about whether or not something was taboo, snorted. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, either. And we would not," he grumbled. Never mind that they pretty much had been.
The Master was mainly opposed to it on the general principle that if anybody was fucking the Doctor, it ought to be him, not another Doctor. "Mm, well, it wouldn't work well between my selves and I. Too much of a power struggle. Probably a bit of a sensory overload from velvet, too. And you most certainly would, so don't be an idiot about it."
Nine just laughed, trying not to choke on his Scotch at the mental imagery of the Masters attempting to fuck each other. "Speaking of the velvet, what's with the suit this time around?"
"I quite like it, don't you?" The Master smoothed down one of the lapels of his jacket. "Very sleek and modern." Actually, he'd mainly started wearing the suits because that was what politicians did, but the mode of dress had grown on him over time.
"It's better than the velvet, at any rate." Nine hummed thoughtfully, returning to the board for a moment and making his move before looking back up at him. "I prefer leather, myself."
The Master snorted. "Yes, that's quite obvious. Trying to pull off the tough guy look this time around?" He idly nudged a piece into position.
Nine hmphed. "I pull it off very well, thank you very much," he replied, taking his time deciding his next move.
"Till you start crying, anyway," the Master retorts, leaning back in his chair as he sips his drink. Though he doubts that the man cries anywhere near as much as Ten - not that such a thing is physically possible, he thinks.
Nine laughed dryly. "Trust me when I say I'm not the crying type."
The Master smirked at him. "Of course not," and he leaves it at that. Still, this regeneration isn't too bad-looking, as far as he's concerned. More than a little arrogant, but that just means he'll be more fun to break.
Nine ignored the smirk, concentrating on making his next move before returning to his Scotch. It was a good thing he wasn't a light-weight this time around.
The Master, having spent a year and a half around British politicians, had become quite good at holding his liquor. He might have been smaller than the other man, but he was pretty sure that he could drink him under the table - not that he was planning on doing so. He preferred Nine still able to function, really.
Nine noticed how well the Master was holding his liquor, but he didn't particularly care. It wasn't as if he was going to drink enough for it to matter. Maybe. Depended on whether or not the Master brought up Daleks again. "Enjoying the game?" he asked idly.
"It's not bad," he admitted. "Though the conversation could use a little work." He didn't want to admit how much he'd enjoyed their previous talk, sexually charged and intense in a way the Doctor's other incarnations seemed to be incapable of. "Multitasking's never been one of your strong suits, though."
Nine rolled his eyes. "What sort of conversation were you expecting?" he asked, sipping his drink as he waited for the Master to make his move.
He shrugs, moving his queen into check. "Something a bit more interesting, like last time. Though I suppose there's only so many guilt-inducing topics to discuss." The Master runs his fingertips over the bruise on his face thoughtfully.
Nine twitched. "Care to make that bruise a little bigger?" he asked, moving a piece in front of his king.
The Master decides not to mention the bruises on his neck, thankfully covered by his shirt collar and tie. "You won't catch me by surprise again, Doctor," he says calmly, capturing the piece with a knight.
"No?" Nine grinned, capturing the knight with his rook. "I think I will."
He rolled his eyes and knocked out the rook with his trusty queen, putting Nine's king back in check. "You think far too highly of yourself, Doctor."
"Says the man who calls himself Master," Nine pointed out, moving his king out of check, making sure he wouldn't be cornered.
"Do you really have to resort to making fun of my name whenever you can't think of anything else, Doctor?" The Master switched tactics and moved a piece to go after Nine's remaining defence. "It got old after the first century."
"I'm just pointing out the irony," Nine shrugged, avoiding the attack. Not to mention he couldn't admit how very wrong the Master was about how highly he thought of himself.
"Yes, yes, irony." The Master snorted. "Don't make me start in on irony and hypocrisy, Doctor." He added some more Scotch to his glass before making another move.
Nine took the bottle from him, pouring himself another glass carefully before setting it back down. "Oh I know I'm a hypocrite, only difference is, I'll admit it."
He raised an eyebrow at Nine. "Well, now, you're just determined to make yourself as unlike the rest of your regenerations as possible, aren't you?"
Nine shrugged again. "I'm not as different as you think I am," he countered, making a move of his own before sipping his drink again.
"Pity." The Master studied the board carefully. "But not entirely surprising."
"Am I what you expected?" Nine asked curiously, watching him.
Truth be told, he hadn't given much thought to what Ten's predecessor would be like, preferring instead to concentrate on the Doctor he'd had in front of him. But this one - there was something deliciously dark about him that he hadn't thought he'd see in the Doctor. This regeneration, it had potential. "Yes and no," he answered carefully as he made his move.
Nine frowned at that answer. "Care to elaborate?" he asked, taking a moment to calculate his own move.
And, of course, the Master couldn't give everything away. "Mm." He swirled the Scotch in his glass for a moment, watching it. "Certain things remain the same from regeneration to regeneration, of course. But some things change. You know as well as I do that it's an unpredictable process."
Nine nodded, his own gaze going a bit distant as he remembered quite possibly the most painful and loneliest regeneration process he'd ever had. He downed the glass again, and made his move.
The Master was curious about Nine's regeneration process, but wasn't going to ask - not yet, anyway. They would, he knew, have plenty of time to talk. He frowned at the board instead. "I think we're headed towards a stalemate," he remarked. Which, in his opinion, was the sort of thing that tended to happen when you'd been fighting your opponent and analysing his tactics for centuries.
Nine rolled his eyes after the Master's comment snapped him out of his thoughts, and glanced at the board as well. "Seems so, yep. Still can't beat me, even after all the not-cheating?" he asked, amused.
"It wasn't cheating." Really, why would he need to cheat while playing chess with the Doctor? "I was just talking, that's all." And he'd just happened to mention Daleks. Coincidence, really.
"That's why I said 'not-cheating'," Nine pointed out. "Bit defensive, are we?"
The Master leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking at Nine over the tips. "Did I mention that I got elected Prime Minister? It was nice." He smiles, reminiscing for a moment.
"I'll take that as a yes then," Nine smirked, mimicking the Master and leaning back in his chair. "And let me guess...hypnotized people into voting your way, did you? Bet that didn't last long."
"I took over the world, actually." He sips his Scotch smugly. "And captured you and the Fact, so all in all, I don't think things went too badly."
Nine twitched. He had heard bits and pieces of this story, and it was all starting to come together in ways he really didn't like. "Good for you. It won't happen here."
"Never say never, Doctor." He chuckled, a sinister laugh that was low in his throat. "You'd probably look quite nice chained to a wall, I expect." Which wasn't quite what he had done to Ten, but there was no need to mention that.
Nine flinched a little, having actually been chained up before. The memory wasn't a pleasant one. "That's not gonna happen either."
"No? Not into bondage this time around?" He smirked at Nine. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can find something suitable."
Nine snorted. "You'll have to get out of this TARDIS, first."
"Ten's got the shortest attention span of any of you," the Master pointed out. "He'll forget about me soon enough." Though then he would probably end up being taken in by Eight, which wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time.
Nine shrugged. "Even if he does, doubt you'll be able to get to me easily. Not like I'm living alone," he reminded him. Never mind that he spent quite a bit of time wandering around the castle by himself.
The Master looked unimpressed. "And what if you come of your own free will?"
Nine flinched again, not wanting to admit that that was a high possibility. "You wish."
He rolled his eyes. "I give it a week, at the most."
"Keep dreaming, Master," Nine replied, before finishing off the bottle of Scotch and standing up.
He was actually a little surprised Nine was even capable of standing at this point - whether or not he'd be able to do the same was questionable, though he didn't have to. "Mm. I wouldn't call it a dream, per se." He flashed Nine a seductive smile.
Nine rolled his eyes. He was actually feeling a bit tipsy, but he wasn't about to show it, if he could help it. "No? What would you call it then?"
Clearly the Doctor was rubbish at picking up on innuendo when he was drunk - but the Master still didn't want to come out and admit that he'd get off on the thought of fucking him up against a wall (or any number of other places, for that matter). "Never mind." He waved his hand vaguely. "Will you be coming back tomorrow?"
Nine frowned, crossing his arms, which actually involved removing his hand from his pocket, but he wasn't particularly thinking straight. "'Course not," he replied, which may or may not have actually meant 'yes'.
He knew without asking that the answer was yes; he'd just wanted to see what Nine would say. He glanced at the other man's bandaged hand, raising an eyebrow. "How'd you hurt yourself?"
Nine winced. Damn. "Bit of an accident with a glass," he grumbled. "None of your business."
"Everything's my business." The Master smirked at him. "Tell me."
"No," Nine replied stubbornly, frowning again.
"Get angry with something and break it, did you?" This Doctor's grip on his control was precarious at best, which made it a pretty safe bet.
"....Maybe," Nine admitted reluctantly, wondering why he hadn't left yet. Hadn't he been about to do that?
"It happens so easily, doesn't it? The anger. It floods your mind and just...takes over, and you let it, because at least then you're feeling something." Another good guess, but the Master had always been especially perceptive when it came to the Doctor (even if he couldn't quite remember why).
Nine found himself wishing, once again, that the Master wasn't always right about him. Because it was true. "I'm not always angry," he insisted. "You just enjoy bringing it out of me," he grumbled.
Well, of course he did. "I'm not the one who made you break the glass," he pointed out smugly.
"...Point," Nine conceded. "But you're not going to find out any more about that."
“Right, of course not." The Master snorted. "Not till you tell me about it, anyway." Really, Nine was so much easier than the rest of them, it was almost pathetic.
"Not going to happen," Nine shrugged, and this time he really meant it. He wasn't about to betray Jack's confidence, especially not to the Master of all people.
He would find out eventually, one way or another. It was a weakness, and that meant he had to discover and exploit it. "Maybe we can have tea tomorrow," he said instead.
"...You want to have tea with me?" Nine asked, raising an eyebrow.
The Master shrugged. "Not much else to do, is there?" Though he would've preferred....other things, but he knew that would come, too, in time.
Nine actually considered the idea, and wondered if said consideration was due to the amount of Scotch he'd had. "I'll think about it," he decided, though he knew he'd probably end up showing anyway.
"Or we could have a book club," he remarked dryly. "Or...I don't know, something utterly boring and mundane." Or they could have awkward conversation while he tried to get a rise out of the Doctor, but that was pretty much a given.
Nine leaned back against the wall, mostly because standing was becoming a bit of a chore, but he didn't really want to sit back down again. That would imply that he was staying. Which he wasn't, clearly. "I'm the wrong incarnation to ask about a book club, that's Eight's sort of thing," he chuckled.
He had better things than books to discuss with Eight right now. "Well, then, what do you suggest?" The Master quirked an eyebrow at him.
Nine shrugged. "You're the one wanting to do things with me, you suggest something." Probably not the wisest choice of words, but it couldn't be helped.
Even Nine had to admit he'd walked right into that one. The Master grinned widely at him. "You know what I'd like to do."
Nine caught that bit of innuendo much more easily than he'd caught the last one. He snorted again. "Besides that." Not that he'd put up much of a fight if it happened, but he wasn't going to admit that any time soon.
He snorted. "I thought you said you weren't prudish."
"I'm not," Nine grinned, shaking his head. "I've just got better taste than that."
"I do think that's the most pathetic lie you've ever told, Doctor. Because that's never been true, and it certainly isn't now," he remarked.
"'Course it is," Nine frowned, fully aware of the fact that it wasn't. "I'm not lying."
"Mmhm." The Master folded his arms over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed. "You'll be gagging for it within a week."
Nine made a face. "More likely you'll be jealous of whoever else gets there first," he retorted.
"Oh? Are you making it a race now? Planning on fucking the first person who offers, just as long as they aren't me?" This regeneration seemed to be a bit, well, slutty. He wasn't sure he liked that.
Nine laughed. "Hardly. I'm not that easy. They've got to at least buy me a drink first," he smirked.
The Master gestured to the bottle of Scotch. "So it doesn't count if you bring the drinks yourself, then?"
"Nope, doesn't count," Nine replied, nodding. "Not that buying me one would help your chances, if that's what you're getting at."
The Master rolled his eyes. "You'd probably sleep with anybody who gave you a banana, anyway. Or with a banana."
"Maybe I would. Well, not the sleeping with the banana bit," Nine corrected, a bit disturbed by that.
Really, he wouldn't have been at all surprised if Nine had enjoyed masturbatory exploits with a banana. Still, it was only the work of a moment to get a banana from the ghosts; he extended his arm, offering it to the Doctor.
Nine grinned, taking the banana and peeling it. "Are you trying to seduce me with bananas?" he asked, munching on said banana.
He rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not?" Really, the Doctor should have been drunk enough to not have any problem with sleeping with them - not that all their sex involved drinking, but it usually helped him get over his silly issues with morals.
"Still not working," Nine smirked, honestly just having fun watching the Master's pathetic attempts to get into his pants. "Gonna have to try a bit harder than that."
"Oh, I can wait till you beg for it." The Master shrugged nonchalantly. "And don't say you won't, because you will. It's only a matter of time."
"You're the one trying to seduce me with bananas," Nine pointed out. "That's kind of on par with begging."
"I wasn't trying to seduce you, just seeing if you were easy enough to sleep with anyone who gave you a banana." Which was true, but Nine was proving a harder nut to crack than he'd first thought. What they needed was another good fight.
Nine wasn't going to give him a good fight unless he started it himself. "Like I said, you'll have to try a bit harder than that," he shrugged, finishing off his banana and tossing the peel at him.
He caught the peel and set it on the table. "I'll keep that in mind." The Master grinned at him; it was, he thought, better to catch him by surprise.
"You do that," Nine replied, rolling his eyes at the grin. He felt steady enough to walk now, and removed himself from the wall. "Have fun with...well, whatever it is you do in here by yourself," he added, not really wanting to think about whatever that was.
"I'll be thinking of you, Doctor." He gave the other man an unsettlingly cheerful grin and a wink. Hopefully he wouldn't miss the implications of that.
He didn't. "I bet you will," Nine muttered under his breath, before attempting to walk out of the TARDIS in a straight line.
He watched the Doctor leave - checking out his arse, and it wasn't half bad - still smirking to himself. He'd have him eventually, body and mind. It would just take time, and a Time Lord had plenty of that.