Time Lords at the Beach, Ten/Simm!Master, PG (Vacation)
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/ Simm!Master
Challenge: 50 Vacation
Rating: PG
Warnings: Schmoop and fluff all wrapped up in eight drabbles.
Spoilers:. AU for “Last of the Time Lords” wherein the Master survives to resume his game of Cat & Mouse with the Doctor, but they get together every now and then because they’re in love it gets tiring chasing each other about all the time.
Time Lords at the Beach
i.
The breeze is blowing gently, blanketing the shore with the scent of the salty ocean. The Master stretches out his legs as the wind picks up, happily curling his toes in the sand. There isn’t another soul for miles, and won’t be for another thousand years. The Master is oddly content - up until a mound of sand is dropped on his head.
The Master sputters, caught off guard, and the Doctor laughs, cradling a plastic red pail in his arms.
“That was completely childish!” The Master exclaims, furiously shaking out his hair.
The Doctor simply grins, not unlike a child.
ii.
“This doesn’t count as a victory,” the Doctor admits as the Master pats the last patch of sand down with the little red shovel.
The Master twirls the implement in his hands. “Why not? I’ve got you dead and buried in the sand. I win.”
“But we’ve called a truce. We’re on holiday.”
“Evil doesn’t take holidays.”
The Master was so certain that the Doctor couldn’t point out that a day at the beach with a sworn enemy was indeed a holiday. Instead, he pretended to be trapped in the sand. “Yes. It looks like you’re right, Master. You’ve won.”
iii.
“I’ve got a surprise from you,” the Master says. From his tone, the Doctor knows something smart is about to escape. He sighs and crouches down by the Master. “Really?”
When the Master lifts his hand from the shallow pool, an orange starfish is caught between his thumb and forefinger. “We’re not the last.”
“All right,” The Doctor drawls after a minute. “Explain it to me.”
The answer is one word: “Regeneration.”
The Doctor’s first reaction is to save the creature from getting one of its limbs pulled off. His second is to cover a smile. “Don’t be silly, Master.”
iv.
The sun is just beginning to shimmer as it begins its arc across the horizon. They stand, side by side, with their trousers cuffed to midcalf, bare feet soaking in the sodden sand and seafoam. The games are on hold. Remnants of tea and biscuits are waiting to be picked up at the end of the day. Something else assuredly awaits them. This is but a brief pause. Anything could happen.
The Master nudges the Doctor with his elbow, not taking his eyes off the sky. The Doctor rocks
back on his heels.
They smile, doing nothing. The moment ends.
v.
There is a cove a ways down. The Doctor points to it from their spot on the smooth shore. They eye each other, the same idea sparkling in their gaze. The Master’s fingers twitch. The Doctor quirks his lip. On an unspoken “three,” they’re off, racing each other across the beach. The Master moves to trip his opponent, but the move is as old as their friendship, and anticipated. The Doctor dodges and pulls ahead. The Master calls out, increasing his speed.
They touch opposite sides of the rocky entrance at the same time. They laugh while catching their breath.
vi.
“Stop that,” the Doctor grunts, turning his face away.
“I’m bored,” the Master pouts and flicks water on the Doctor’s face again.
“I’m taking a nap. Go find another starfish.”
“I’d do unspeakable things to it. It would make you sad.”
“How sweet of you to think of my feelings.”
“No one said anything about feelings.” And the Master stops torturing the Doctor. Which is, of course, exactly what the Doctor had meant to happen. He smiles smugly and settles back into the comfortable curve of the cove, listening to the soothing sounds of the water sweeping against the shore.
vii.
Darkness begins to settle in. They make their way back to the shore in silence. The Doctor goes to his TARDIS, and the Master ambles over to his. His hand on the doors, the Doctor turns back for one last glance. The Master is already looking. With a quirk of his eyebrows, he signals back to the beach. The Master shrugs. Together, they head back out onto the sand, gathering driftwood for a fire. (“Laser is far superior to sonic.”)
The Doctor settles back on his elbows and watches the moon ripple on the water. (“I wasn’t ready to leave.”)
viii.
They could shake hands and make a truce.
They could hold hands and repair a friendship.
They could hold each other and rediscover a partnership.
They could love each other, except that they already do.
Instead, the Doctor takes his pail and shovel and rests it on the console, setting his next coordinates. He smiles from the sand still in his toes.
Instead, the Master retires to his TARDIS, pins a starfish to his console, and moves on to the next unsuspecting planet. He stares at the wriggling limbs and remembers that he is not alone.
They resume the chase.
Challenge: 50 Vacation
Rating: PG
Warnings: Schmoop and fluff all wrapped up in eight drabbles.
Spoilers:. AU for “Last of the Time Lords” wherein the Master survives to resume his game of Cat & Mouse with the Doctor, but they get together every now and then because they’re in love it gets tiring chasing each other about all the time.
Time Lords at the Beach
i.
The breeze is blowing gently, blanketing the shore with the scent of the salty ocean. The Master stretches out his legs as the wind picks up, happily curling his toes in the sand. There isn’t another soul for miles, and won’t be for another thousand years. The Master is oddly content - up until a mound of sand is dropped on his head.
The Master sputters, caught off guard, and the Doctor laughs, cradling a plastic red pail in his arms.
“That was completely childish!” The Master exclaims, furiously shaking out his hair.
The Doctor simply grins, not unlike a child.
ii.
“This doesn’t count as a victory,” the Doctor admits as the Master pats the last patch of sand down with the little red shovel.
The Master twirls the implement in his hands. “Why not? I’ve got you dead and buried in the sand. I win.”
“But we’ve called a truce. We’re on holiday.”
“Evil doesn’t take holidays.”
The Master was so certain that the Doctor couldn’t point out that a day at the beach with a sworn enemy was indeed a holiday. Instead, he pretended to be trapped in the sand. “Yes. It looks like you’re right, Master. You’ve won.”
iii.
“I’ve got a surprise from you,” the Master says. From his tone, the Doctor knows something smart is about to escape. He sighs and crouches down by the Master. “Really?”
When the Master lifts his hand from the shallow pool, an orange starfish is caught between his thumb and forefinger. “We’re not the last.”
“All right,” The Doctor drawls after a minute. “Explain it to me.”
The answer is one word: “Regeneration.”
The Doctor’s first reaction is to save the creature from getting one of its limbs pulled off. His second is to cover a smile. “Don’t be silly, Master.”
iv.
The sun is just beginning to shimmer as it begins its arc across the horizon. They stand, side by side, with their trousers cuffed to midcalf, bare feet soaking in the sodden sand and seafoam. The games are on hold. Remnants of tea and biscuits are waiting to be picked up at the end of the day. Something else assuredly awaits them. This is but a brief pause. Anything could happen.
The Master nudges the Doctor with his elbow, not taking his eyes off the sky. The Doctor rocks
back on his heels.
They smile, doing nothing. The moment ends.
v.
There is a cove a ways down. The Doctor points to it from their spot on the smooth shore. They eye each other, the same idea sparkling in their gaze. The Master’s fingers twitch. The Doctor quirks his lip. On an unspoken “three,” they’re off, racing each other across the beach. The Master moves to trip his opponent, but the move is as old as their friendship, and anticipated. The Doctor dodges and pulls ahead. The Master calls out, increasing his speed.
They touch opposite sides of the rocky entrance at the same time. They laugh while catching their breath.
vi.
“Stop that,” the Doctor grunts, turning his face away.
“I’m bored,” the Master pouts and flicks water on the Doctor’s face again.
“I’m taking a nap. Go find another starfish.”
“I’d do unspeakable things to it. It would make you sad.”
“How sweet of you to think of my feelings.”
“No one said anything about feelings.” And the Master stops torturing the Doctor. Which is, of course, exactly what the Doctor had meant to happen. He smiles smugly and settles back into the comfortable curve of the cove, listening to the soothing sounds of the water sweeping against the shore.
vii.
Darkness begins to settle in. They make their way back to the shore in silence. The Doctor goes to his TARDIS, and the Master ambles over to his. His hand on the doors, the Doctor turns back for one last glance. The Master is already looking. With a quirk of his eyebrows, he signals back to the beach. The Master shrugs. Together, they head back out onto the sand, gathering driftwood for a fire. (“Laser is far superior to sonic.”)
The Doctor settles back on his elbows and watches the moon ripple on the water. (“I wasn’t ready to leave.”)
viii.
They could shake hands and make a truce.
They could hold hands and repair a friendship.
They could hold each other and rediscover a partnership.
They could love each other, except that they already do.
Instead, the Doctor takes his pail and shovel and rests it on the console, setting his next coordinates. He smiles from the sand still in his toes.
Instead, the Master retires to his TARDIS, pins a starfish to his console, and moves on to the next unsuspecting planet. He stares at the wriggling limbs and remembers that he is not alone.
They resume the chase.