Beloved Something Or Other
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #023 - Lovers
Claim: The Time War
Table: Here
Spoilers: Utopia, The Sound of Drums
Pairing: younger Jacobi!Master/Eighth Doctor
Summary: The Doctor and the Master share a bed, and really, who cares if there is a war going on somewhere?
Apparently there was a war going on. Apparently the high council wanted him to fight. For them.
The Master snickered to himself. The idea was ridiculously funny. Even more funny if he thought that they actually considered themselves important enough for him to join their battles.
After they had attempted to execute him half a dozen time and succeeded once, it told him a lot about their self esteem.
He tapped his fingers against the arm on his chair rhythmically. Of course, a bit of fighting wouldn’t be so bad. A bit of bloodshed and violence. He had this strange desire to go out and kill and destroy, fuelled by the damn drumbeat he couldn’t seem to get out of his head - and yet, it was almost cute how they believed he would use this in their favour.
Especially when there were so many other ways to spend his energy.
Looking at the man currently sprawled on the covers of his bed, the Master was reminded that he had another war going on, this one much older and more personal. He snickered some more, amused beyond reason by the absurdity of the situation.
“Are you finished yet?” the Doctor asked without opening his eyes. “I’m trying to get some sleep here. After all, the world might end tomorrow, and I wouldn’t like to die tired.”
Humour to deal with the fact that the world might indeed end tomorrow, or at least sometime soon. The Master’s amusement, on the other hand, was genuine, and the fact that the high council had revived him as their strongest warrior for their war only to have him crawl into bed with their second strongest warrior was hilarious beyond words. And so he threw back his head and laughed out loud until a pillow hit him in the face.
“You’re not going to sleep,” he said, throwing it back.
“Oh? And why not?”
“Because you’re not stupid.” The Master reconsidered the sentence. “Not entirely stupid, at least. I could kill you in your sleep.”
“You could.” The Doctor didn’t seem particularly worried about the prospect. “But you’re not going to.”
“I’m not scared of the high council.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one reason why I wouldn’t end your existence.”
In response, the Doctor just gazed at him through half closed eyes and smiled.
This indicated that the Doctor knew the Master rather a lot better than he should, or at least thought he did. Annoyed, the Master got up to get the pillow and smother his enemy/lover/whatever with it, just to prove a point.
Sensing his approach despite his once again closed eyes, the Doctor lazily rolled away from him and disappeared.
There was a moment of silence.
“… Doctor?”
Behind the bed, there was the sound of shuffling.
“I like the floor,” came the somewhat muffled reply.
Rolling his eyes, the Master threw himself onto the bed and barely missed the blanket that was being dragged down to follow his Something Or Other in his defeat by gravity. Peering over the edge of the bed, he saw the Doctor curling up on the cool floor, wrapped up and looking oddly content.
“You don’t plan on staying there, do you?”
“Why not? I’ll just assume you deem this too ridiculous a position for someone like me to die in.” The idiot even sounded sleepy. He still had the nerve to blink up at the Master, with all the smugness of a cat. “Unless you were planning to cuddle, of course.”
Naturally, the Master wasn’t. But he didn’t kill the Doctor is his sleep either.
(Sprawled beneath the misused bed curtains and listening to the Doctor’s quiet breathing, the Master marvelled on how even in nights like this, nothing between them ever changed.)
May 24, 2009
Prompt: #023 - Lovers
Claim: The Time War
Table: Here
Spoilers: Utopia, The Sound of Drums
Pairing: younger Jacobi!Master/Eighth Doctor
Summary: The Doctor and the Master share a bed, and really, who cares if there is a war going on somewhere?
Apparently there was a war going on. Apparently the high council wanted him to fight. For them.
The Master snickered to himself. The idea was ridiculously funny. Even more funny if he thought that they actually considered themselves important enough for him to join their battles.
After they had attempted to execute him half a dozen time and succeeded once, it told him a lot about their self esteem.
He tapped his fingers against the arm on his chair rhythmically. Of course, a bit of fighting wouldn’t be so bad. A bit of bloodshed and violence. He had this strange desire to go out and kill and destroy, fuelled by the damn drumbeat he couldn’t seem to get out of his head - and yet, it was almost cute how they believed he would use this in their favour.
Especially when there were so many other ways to spend his energy.
Looking at the man currently sprawled on the covers of his bed, the Master was reminded that he had another war going on, this one much older and more personal. He snickered some more, amused beyond reason by the absurdity of the situation.
“Are you finished yet?” the Doctor asked without opening his eyes. “I’m trying to get some sleep here. After all, the world might end tomorrow, and I wouldn’t like to die tired.”
Humour to deal with the fact that the world might indeed end tomorrow, or at least sometime soon. The Master’s amusement, on the other hand, was genuine, and the fact that the high council had revived him as their strongest warrior for their war only to have him crawl into bed with their second strongest warrior was hilarious beyond words. And so he threw back his head and laughed out loud until a pillow hit him in the face.
“You’re not going to sleep,” he said, throwing it back.
“Oh? And why not?”
“Because you’re not stupid.” The Master reconsidered the sentence. “Not entirely stupid, at least. I could kill you in your sleep.”
“You could.” The Doctor didn’t seem particularly worried about the prospect. “But you’re not going to.”
“I’m not scared of the high council.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one reason why I wouldn’t end your existence.”
In response, the Doctor just gazed at him through half closed eyes and smiled.
This indicated that the Doctor knew the Master rather a lot better than he should, or at least thought he did. Annoyed, the Master got up to get the pillow and smother his enemy/lover/whatever with it, just to prove a point.
Sensing his approach despite his once again closed eyes, the Doctor lazily rolled away from him and disappeared.
There was a moment of silence.
“… Doctor?”
Behind the bed, there was the sound of shuffling.
“I like the floor,” came the somewhat muffled reply.
Rolling his eyes, the Master threw himself onto the bed and barely missed the blanket that was being dragged down to follow his Something Or Other in his defeat by gravity. Peering over the edge of the bed, he saw the Doctor curling up on the cool floor, wrapped up and looking oddly content.
“You don’t plan on staying there, do you?”
“Why not? I’ll just assume you deem this too ridiculous a position for someone like me to die in.” The idiot even sounded sleepy. He still had the nerve to blink up at the Master, with all the smugness of a cat. “Unless you were planning to cuddle, of course.”
Naturally, the Master wasn’t. But he didn’t kill the Doctor is his sleep either.
(Sprawled beneath the misused bed curtains and listening to the Doctor’s quiet breathing, the Master marvelled on how even in nights like this, nothing between them ever changed.)
May 24, 2009