Work Text:
Impressions Bar, Hailax, 51st Century
The psychic paper in The Doctor's pocket began to hum excitedly as he reached the door of the club, and he knew he'd found the right place. A brief nod to the bright green, tentacled bouncer on the door gained him admittance into the seedy club. The stench of alcohol and sweat was a slap in the face after being out in the fresh, soupy air of a planet with far too much oxygen in the atmosphere for a timelord to think straight. Maybe she did it on purpose.
He scanned the room for her, his eyes darting over the other customers, most of whom also had tentacles and were certainly not in a particularly good state. He pressed on, trying desparately to erase an image of a Hailaxian couple, with sixteen tentacles between them, gyrating on the dancefloor. It was then that he finally spotted Missy from across the room. She stood out from the rest in her usual Victorian garments, her purple coat clashing with the green of the aliens all around them. He classy demeanour was out of place too, distancing her from the hordes of wasted punters. She was already staring at him, blood red lips curved into a grin as she sipped from a glass of wine. Red, of course. The Doctor picked his way towards the table across the sticky carpet of the bar to join her.
"Why here?" He asked huffily as he sat down, finding to his dismay that the chair was just as sticky as the floor. Missy simply shrugged, pushing another glass of wine across the table.
"I haven't poisoned it." She assured him, when he eyed it dubiously.
"Are you trying to get me drunk Missy?" The Doctor frowned, taking up the glass.
"Are you suggesting you'll be drunk after that?" Missy laughed mockingly. "I've met clockwork droids who can hold their drink better than that, and trust me, they really don't like it."
"Hmm, I know." The Doctor affirmed, taking a large sip. "I've wrecked a few myself that way. I had to deal with a few after getting drunk at a party in Renaissance France. I kissed Madame de Pompadour and accidentally invented the banana daiquiri."
Missy raised an eyebrow. "Sounds fun, which regeneration was that?"
"The skinny one. Matchstick in a suit." The Doctor waved his hands about ineffectually, nearly spilling his wine as he did.
"Oh I remember him. I really liked that one." Missy replied enthusiastically.
"Mmm, I remember." The Doctor huffed in annoyance. "Anyway, you never answered me. Why are we here?"
"I happened to be here, and I just wondered if you wanted to come along. I've already had quite a few drinks myself. You have some catching up to do." She replied with a smirk. "As it turns out, when you're drunk, you don't seem to notice how awful this place is."
The Doctor gazed around again, noticing the stained floor, and a broken glass that had been crushed and ground into the carpet with the tread of many feet; or tentacles in this case. The gruff bartender was pouring cocktails that looked, and probably tasted, like bleach into a grimy glass. He turned to the dancefloor and, upon seeing that the Hailaxian couple were still putting on their gruesome display, quickly turned back to Missy once more. He hastily took another gulp of his wine, almost draining the glass, and reached for the bottle to refill it.
"Missy this place is a dive, I thought you had standards." The Doctor laughed.
"Well, I suppose it's out of the way, somewhere to hide and keep my head down." She admitted. The Doctor realised the drinks were getting to her, he'd never seen her face so lax and soft. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable for the first time, with a sorrowful gaze that reminded him of a small deer. He realised she was feeling guilty and lonely, and simply needed a friend, but he didn't know how to comfort her, so took another sip from his glass instead.
"Okay." The Doctor smiled, "Let's just get drunk."
"That was rather the plan." Missy smirked mischievously, topping up the glasses with unsteady hands.
As he watched her stumbling movements, he recalled the first time they'd been drunk. The red carpet of Gallifrey's meadows had stretched out before them, raging like a bonfire in the deep orange sunset. The Master, then a young boy, had been slumped against the tree next to him, twiddling one of the metallic leaves through his fingers. He had been truly happy that day and The Doctor would always remember the lopsided smile on his face and the mop of hair flopping into his eyes as he swigged from the stolen bottle. They had felt free then. Breaking the rules; a pair of renegades lying in the grass under the sliver leaves and the dying suns. Fuzzy heads paved the way for fuzzy words and the laughter of ones truly living echoed across the meadows. That was when they made the promise. 'Every star in the universe' they'd said, gesturing wildly towards the burnt sky, and they'd believed it.
"Doctor." A small voice snapped him from his reverie. Missy gazed at him with her big, sad eyes. The Doctor couldn't look; there was something missing in her eyes that he couldn't quite name.
"I was thinking about Gallifrey." He said softly. The sad eyes became sadder and The Doctor realised what was missing. Hope.
He envisioned The Master, a young, rebellious boy with a whole future glittering in his eyes. He looked at the woman sitting opposite him and saw a dark past lurking beyond her bright blue irises. Enough was enough.
"Come with me." He blurted out, the drink staring to mar his words. "When I leave, I mean. Travel with me."
Missy sat rigid, frozen to the chair. "What?"
"I said, travel with me." The Doctor repeated, emboldened.
Missy nodded quickly, her eyes suddenly sharp and glittering again. She took up her glass and raised a toast.
"To every star in the universe." She grinned, and The Doctor saw her truly happy for the first time in months.
"Every star in the universe." He replied with a soft smile, one he reserved only for the most special of occasions.
The moment dissolved, and The Doctor suddenly became aware of his surroundings once more, he turned to look at the dancefloor and it began to rock like a heaving ship in his vision. Before he had a chance to look back, Missy was clawing at his hands, and pulling him up on unsteady legs with renewed vigour.
"Dance with me." She whined, pulling a reluctant Doctor to his feet.
"I don't do dancing." He told her, stony faced, as she ineffectually pulled at his shirtsleeves.
"Shut up and dance with me." She insisted, dragging him towards the heaving mass of tentacled aliens and thumping speakers.
"No no no no no." The Doctor chanted as he was dragged along unceremoniously by a wobbly Missy. She teetered in her heeled boots, her ankles nearly giving way with each step.
She pulled him towards her, bringing them close. She clung to his velvet jacket, partly to support herself and partly to keep him on the dancefloor. Nearly falling as she began to sway to the beat, Missy smiled at him lopsidedly. The Doctor had never seen her face so open, so happy; he couldn't help but pull her closer. She wobbled as she stepped closer, almost collapsing into The Doctor's own slightly unsteady arms. Her movements were out of character, fluid and loose; far from the stiff, elegant demeanour she usually presented. The Doctor began to step in time to the beat, tugging on Missy's waist to lead her. He could feel her corset, hard underneath her pinstripe shirt, her coat being abandoned across the room in the heat.
Her arms flopped contentedly around his neck and she laughed loudly as they span. She had never seemed so carefree and happy, and The Doctor vowed to keep the perfect image of her drunken smile in his memory for centuries to come. His own head throbbed with the drink, and the beat began to control him. His hands roved over Missy, reaching out to touch the parts of her he hadn't seen for so long. He couldn't remember wether it was he or Missy that leaned in first, but in the end he didn't care. They kissed passionately, hands never staying still, and Missy's hair falling from its updo to tumble across her shoulders. The Doctor tangled his fingers into her long, thick curls and kept his face pressed to hers.
Missy pulled back for air, gasping as they swayed together. "I have missed this my dear Doctor." She laughed, breathless. She shook her hair out as she danced, and The Doctor was mesmerised by her unruly locks. He began to graze his fingers through them, feeling the soft strands against his skin.
"I missed this too, my dear Mistress." He smiled back, truly meaning his words. He pulled her back in for another kiss and their bodies were pressed together from head to foot once more.
They danced for hours, tentacled aliens coming and going, until the music was slow and the bar was finally peaceful. The couple finally gave up, stepping fro the floor hand in hand and beaming. Missy retrieved her coat and quickly drained what was left of her wine before leading The Doctor from the club. The freezing, overly-oxygenated air of Hailax forced them to breathe in sharply. The extra oxygen only served to make them more drunk as they stumbled towards the Doctor's TARDIS. Missy's ankle finally gave way and she collapsed in a heap of petticoats to the pavement. The Doctor tried to help her up, but she simply sat and laughed. He joined her giggles as he pulled her from the ground by force, nearly toppling himself in the process. They stumbled on together, leaning heavily on each other for support like counterbalanced weights, and laughing uncontrollably as they went.
They had hardly stepped into the TARDIS before The Doctor was roughly shoved into the back of the door and kissed with ferocity. Missy's hands were everywhere, and The Doctor simply surrendered to it, melting against her touches.
"Bedroom?" She smirked at an already debauched Doctor.
"Bedroom." He gasped, letting her lead him down the corridor.