Chapter Text
The Doctor entered his office with a proud grin, having successfully bypassed both his department head and an eager first year that was keen to know how they had performed on the end of term assignment. Upon stepping into the office, the Time Lord was greeted with the sight of Nardole dusting the overflowing bookshelf. Sleeves rolled up, the dumpy cyborg whistled away as he busied himself with the daily chores.
“You sound chirpy,” the Doctor commented as he lifted his sunglasses and perched them atop his greying curls. “Did you win on the cryptic crossword again?”
“The sun is out,” Nardole said as he motioned to the window looking out over the sunny courtyard. “Missy is behaving and in a good mood. Although she does seem to have it in her head that you are taking her out this evening. Something about an end of term ball? I imagine her good mood will end once you set her straight.”
The Doctor gulped and sat down, placing down his two shopping bags and peering into the teapot on his desk.
“About that,” he said casually as he kept his eyes averted from the cyborg.
“About what?” Nardole questioned suspiciously.
“Missy coming to the end of term ball,” the Doctor said. “I promised her she could come.”
“Sir!” Nardole exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”
“I am.”
Nardole frowned and rested a hand on his hip.
“I think this is a very big mistake.”
“You worry too much,” the Doctor sighed.
“You don’t worry enough.”
“And that’s why I have you,” the Doctor beamed as he reached for a chocolate digestive before standing and leaving the room.
Nardole watched after him, an exasperated expression lining his face as the Time Lord disappeared towards the vault.
XXXXXXXX
Missy was sat in the vault, lounging and not doing very much at all when she heard the mechanical door rumble to life. She hadn’t received her orders to get in the containment field, so it must mean the Doctor was on his own.
It also meant he trusted her. He really, truly, properly trusted her and it was a new feeling. It wasn’t a feeling that settled with her particularly well- residing on her shoulders like a fragile ball of glass waiting to break at the first betrayal.
“You busy?” The Doctor quipped as he entered the vault and sat down at the table.
Missy pushed herself up on the sofa and peered over the edge.
“I bet you think you’re funny, don’t you?” She drawled, standing and walking to join him at the table. “Is today the day Cinderella gets to go to the ball?”
“We both know I’ve got a wicked sense of humour,” the Doctor replied instantly. “And no, I think if we’re using that analogy it’s the day the reforming wicked step mother gets to go to the ball.”
Missy pouted but didn’t protest as she took her seat next to the Doctor.
“Are you going to read me the riot act again?” Missy asked after a few seconds companionable silence.
“No,” the Doctor shook his head. “We’ve been over the rules and I trust you.”
Missy felt a pang in her hearts. There it was again, that fragile trust.
“Trust?” Missy questioned. “That’s either very brave or very foolish.”
“It’s probably both,” the Doctor replied as he began to empty out the bag of Mexican food onto the table. “Have some food, there’s going to be alcohol at the ball and probably only cheap finger food on offer.”
Missy tutted.
“I’m not human, dear” Missy sighed. “I won’t get drunk at the first sip of fizz.”
“No,” the Doctor agreed. “I know you won’t, but you will drink the free bar dry and the department is having enough financial worries without you draining them.”
Missy said nothing, caring very little for the Doctor’s life outside or the politics of the apes he worked with. Picking up a tortilla chip, she dipped it in the salsa and chewed eagerly. The pair finished eating in silence, each thinking ahead to the night they had planned with a mixture of anticipation and excitement.
“Will there be dancing tonight?” Missy asked as they started to clear away the plates, the Doctor passing the plates to Missy who placed them in the dishwasher in a routine that proved startlingly domestic. “I like a good boogie.”
The Doctor sighed, stretching up as the last plate was loaded away and clicking his back. In quick movements, he wiped his sud-lined palms along his trousers and shook his head.
“I doubt it,” he said eventually. “It’ll probably be an altogether more serious event- politics and networking and canapes.”
“Shame,” Missy sighed. “Sounds like they’re even more boring than you.”
The Doctor scowled before nodding at the bag that stood next to the table.
“We’re running late, Missy. Go and get changed.”
XXXXXXXX
The dress looked even more beautiful on Missy than it had looked in the shop window.
The emerald floor-length gown clung to the Time Lady in all the right places and as Missy emerged from her bedroom, the Doctor felt his hearts stop.
Of course, Missy knew just how spectacular she looked, despite the feigned expression of coyness that danced across her face.
“How do I look?” Missy sang as she twirled on the spot. “Does it make my bum look big?”
“You look beautiful,” the Doctor admitted.
The sight of one of his own kind, all dressed up and radiant was something he never thought he’d see. Especially not his Koschei. To him, Missy didn’t just look visually beautiful, he could feel her very being seeping from her pores. She was happy and healthy in a way she hadn’t been for years and it reached out to him in unbridled attraction. It was the type of attraction that only psychically linked beings could experience.
Missy beamed automatically before quickly forcing her lips into a smirk.
“I do?” She drawled, plopping her lips.
“You know you do,” the Doctor laughed. “Now, I’m not stroking your ego anymore. Come on, it’s time to go.”
“Oh go on,” Missy persisted, eyes alight with mirth. “If you do, maybe later I can stroke something of yours.”
“That is one of the oldest and naffest innuendos in the book,” the Doctor laughed, grinning ear to ear.
“Maybe,” Missy agreed. “But some would argue that saying naff is pretty naff too.”
The Time Lady, who looked very pleased with her observation, leaned back against the worktop and pulled a bottle of perfume out of what seemed to be thin air, spritzing it on her wrists and neck. The Doctor wasn’t convinced by the new scent, it masked her natural smell that only he recognised. Still, she had always liked her pretty things and he humoured her. Taking two steps forward, he gently took her hand and attached a metal bracelet to her slim wrist. Missy gushed, faux-surprise emanating from her.
“Oh, Doctor, you do know how to treat a lady!” She trilled, holding her arm out and admiring the silver bracelet that was flashing with green and yellow lights. “Now, I really wasn’t expecting this.”
“Yes you were,” the Doctor replied instantly, scanning his sonic over the bracelet and noting the readings. “I take it you know what this is?”
Missy leaned forward, hand combing through the Doctor’s curls. Closing the gap between them, she stopped right in front of him- face to face, noses nearly touching. So small was the distance between them that when the Time Lady spoke, her breath tickled his skin.
“I think you should show me what it does,” Missy drawled. Her red painted lips curling into a smirk. “Show a bad girl what it does.”
“You’re not bad, Missy” the Doctor said instantly. “Don’t say that.”
Missy threw her head back and laughed.
“If that were true, I wouldn’t need the shiny bracelet. Show me how it works, Doctor.”
The Doctor shook his head, but Missy persisted.
“I need to understand,” she drawled. “I need to know what to expect and you need to know you can do it. Doctor, if a pain suddenly hit me without warning—”
Suddenly, Missy writhed. Her face contorted and a long drawn out gasp was pulled from her, seemingly originating somewhere deep in her core. A few strands of her hair fell loose from her neat up-do and her body buckled forward. The Doctor caught her, letting her rest her sweat-lined face against his neck. Missy hummed, her breathing levelling out as she clung to the Doctor and took in his familiar scent.
“Yummy,” she slurred eventually. “T’was nice. We should do it again sometime.”
“Let’s sit down for a minute,” the Doctor suggested as he felt her body grow heavier against him. “That was the lowest setting, Missy. I really don’t want to have to use it tonight so please don’t give me reason to.”
“You mean like if you find out I’ve added human intestines to the fruit punch or something equally gory?”
Her voice was still slurred and as she looked up at the Doctor, he could pinpoint her body trying to balance itself out again. Placing his hand on her cheek, he ran his thumb along her cheek bone in gentle movements. He didn’t miss the way her eyes widened and hooked on to his with complete trust and dependency. He also didn’t miss the way his cock twitched at the sight of his friend in such a submissive state. Blindly, he nodded at her words and placed a kiss to her forehead.
“Are you okay?” He checked once she seemed to have recovered more fully. “You know I don’t want to hurt you.”
Missy smiled at his tenderness and nodded.
“And you know that sometimes I like a little bit of pain.”
An over the top wink followed and the Doctor shivered involuntarily. In an instant, the moment was over, and Missy stood and half skipped to the door.
“Now dear, lead the way, the party is waiting for its guest of honour.”
XXXXXXXX
The Doctor stood in the corner, cautiously glancing around the room as he held a napkin of Missy’s half-tried party food. While the chocolate mousse had gone down well with the Time Lady, the shrimp had not and that left the Doctor as custodian of a dozen half-eaten shrimps.
The evening had been going well, both Time Lords socialising as well as either of them could manage. Missy had politely engaged with all the Doctor’s colleagues, proudly telling them all that she was his wife and that he was finally letting her out for the night. All had laughed, though the Doctor had cast her a warning glance.
“Missy,” the Doctor hissed when he caught her reaching for another one. “Leave the shrimp alone, you know you don’t like it.”
“It’s not the same shrimp,” Missy replied earnestly. “It might taste different.”
“They taste the same!” The Doctor hissed. “Just leave it for the others who do like it!”
“You’re always telling me all things are individuals and I should appreciate them as their own thing, not cast sweeping judgements about whole species!”
“I mean when they’re alive, not served up on a plate to eat!”
“But that’s not what you’ve said when I’ve served humans up on a plate to eat,” Missy replied, this time with a playful grin. “What’s the difference?”
“You know the difference,” the Doctor retorted, reaching for her wrist and pulling her gently towards him. “If you’re hungry, help yourself to another chocolate mousse.”
“The chocolate mousse is to die for,” a posh voice gushed before Missy could reply. The pair turned to see the Doctor’s head of department, George Lavert, smiling broadly at them. “Now, you must be the wife he’s kept so well hidden.”
The Doctor didn’t miss the appreciative glance George cast over Missy’s figure, eyes hovering over her chest. Missy, however, remained oblivious reaching her hand out to George in greeting and allowing it to be kissed. The Doctor wrapped his arm tightly around Missy’s waist, suddenly reminded of the rumours that had circulated about his boss’ reputation with women.
“He does rather enjoy locking me up,” Missy trilled. “But why would you keep something as pretty as me locked away.”
“Well quite,” George agreed and nodded sadly at her empty champagne flute. “It’s criminal that your glass is empty, my dear. Come with me and I’ll get you a glass of the good stuff. Doctor, you don’t mind if I steal your good wife away for a minute, do you?”
“Actually, Missy I think—”
“Don’t you trust me, dear?” Missy asked. “I promise to be on my best behaviour.”
To George, the question sounded jovial but the Doctor could hear the sincerity. He didn’t have the hearts to knock her confidence, even if it was George rather than Missy that he didn’t trust.
“Be back in five minutes, Missy” the Doctor said eventually. “We have to get back for the kids, Nardole’s probably eager to get home.”
Missy shot him a quizzical look before smirking.
“We don’t want the little darlings to be worried, I’ll be back after one glass.”
XXXXXXXX
As the five minutes turned into an hour, the Doctor began to worry.
What if George lived up to his reputation?
Worse still, what if Missy lived up to hers?
Unable to stop worrying, the Doctor left the main reception area in search of Missy. He wasn’t searching long when he found her sat on one of the pine benches that lined the entrance area of the grand hall. George was nowhere to be seen but the Doctor’s expression darkened as he caught sight of the blood that lined Missy’s body. It wasn’t her blood, too dark in colour to be Gallifreyan.
“What have you done?” The Doctor hissed, any concern for Missy gone as he realised the gravity of what she might have just done. “Why do you always have to prove me wrong?”
There was a long silence and the Doctor noticed how subdued she was. For a moment, he was concerned but it quickly gave way to anger.
“I need your help,” Missy said eventually. “He’s in his office.”
The Doctor scowled and shook his head.
“One night without you killing anyone,” the Doctor hissed. “That was all I wanted.”
So caught up in his own anger, the Doctor failed to notice Missy sat deadly still. Her whole form was itching not to lash out and she bit her lip until it bled in an attempt to stay in control.
“Maybe everyone’s right about you,” the Doctor continued. “Maybe you are rotten to the core, maybe you are the monster everyone says you are.”
“Shut up,” Missy whispered under her breath. “Just shut up.”
“No, you shut up. Are the truths hard to hear? This is the first night you’ve been out of the Vault, it’s been a matter of hours and you’ve already killed a man! I’m amazed it hasn’t been mass-murder! And now, what? You want me to clear up your mess again?”
“Fuck off,” Missy spat in Gallifreyan. The declaration was said with more feeling and she jumped up from her perch. “He’s not fucking dead!”
The Doctor’s mouth fell open and any doubt he had about her declaration was quashed when he heard a soft groan come from George’s office. The Time Lord stood up and approached Missy, pulling her in by her wrist with great force. She cried out and the Doctor dismissed it as theatrics.
“You still hurt him though, didn’t you?”
Missy’s face contorted in pain and for the first time, the Doctor noticed Missy’s bruised eye. His gaze scanned down to her wrist and he noticed it was swollen, not from his grasp. Gulping, he remembered George’s reputation.
“He deserved it,” Missy said resolutely, pulling her wrist from his grip. “Now go and do what you do, clear up my mess and save the human.”
The Doctor paled, he was unsure of what had transpired between George and Missy, but his mind was able to make up at least fifty scenarios. None of them were good.
“Missy, what happened?”
Missy smirked and shrugged.
“What does it matter? I’m outta here, go and tend to your boss and I’ll see you when I see you.”
The Doctor went to follow her, but was drawn back by another groan. With great reluctance, he rushed towards the office.
“Just give me a minute Missy and I’ll be with you,” the Doctor said.
There was no reply and when he glanced over his shoulder, the corridor was empty.