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When the Doctor first came into the living room minutes ago, the first thing he saw was the Master, beyond drunk, lying slack on the couch with a lopsided smile settled on his face and an empty bottle lying seamlessly on the floor.
At first it was very much a concern for the Doctor to see the Master this way. He thinks this is the first(?) time he’s seen the other Time Lord drunk and honestly, he predicted he’s either going to get very exhausted from it or have tons of fun from watching the Master’s boozed up antics.
What the Doctor hadn’t predicted was this: the Master leaned up against the Doctor, cuddling up to him.
“Mmyou’re sooo warmm..” his voice rumbled against the Doctor’s neck, slurred. It caused the Doctor’s breath to hitch.
The Master doesn’t notice. Not in this state.
The Master caresses the Doctor’s hand lightly, tenderly, it hurts. It burns. The Doctor never expected the Master to be so gentle while drunk. He expected the Master to be aggressive, harsh, biting. It fitted him a lot more with his insanity. And yet he wasn’t. He was the opposite. Although in the beginning, he was a bit of a prick. He teased and roughly threw mediocre insults at the Doctor, though as time passed, he mellowed out.
Leaving them where they are now.
The Master raised his head a little, puffing out air against the Doctor’s ear, sending shivers down his spine automatically. He’s starting to feel a bit stuffy under his suit.
The Master giggles. “I missed you so much Theta..”
The Doctor freezes. Dear Rassilon. He’s truly lost it. He hates how the Master said it so, so lovingly because how could this be possible? This is the Master who’s harmed many, tried to conquer the Earth, harmed the Doctor himself! But he knows why. He knows why deep, deep down.
There’s a reason why he and the Master were friends in the first place.
The Master at this point has tangled his hand with the Doctor’s.
“Look at me. Please,” he murmured, oh so softly. What the Doctor would do to hear the Master say ‘please’ again with such a sweet-sounding tone of voice.
The Doctor turns his head slightly, the Master’s lips graze against the Doctor’s cheek. He wonders where the Master’s lips might’ve landed if he turned his head all the way. He pushed that thought away quickly.
“You’re so pretty..” he murmured to himself, snickering, as if he was quite in disbelief over this fact. If the Doctor had a penny for every time he was called ‘pretty’ during his 10th regeneration, he’d have two pennies. Personally, he’d hope for more if he’s being quite honest, especially if coming from the Master.
What in the world is happening?
The Master raised his other hand that wasn’t currently holding the Doctor’s hand. He glides his hand delicately across the Doctor’s face, turning it a bit more to face him. By this point, his face was a bit farther away. Close enough to still feel his breath but far enough to not be touching lips. Not quite anyways.
He takes in the Master’s looks for once.
His blonde hair was a bit unkempt as well as his dress shirt. The Doctor took in the Master’s slightly flushed cheeks and glanced at the Master’s pink lips. He quickly averted his gaze.
The Doctor finally looked into the Master’s eyes, it was filled with so much awe and wonder. Like when they were younger in the Academy. Looking up at the gorgeous scorched-coloured sky, lying on grass that could represent the flames of a blazing fire. Laughing about Rassilon knows what.
The Doctor was snapped out of his memories when the Master started to tap his fingers on the Doctor’s cheeks, under his eyes, and around his nose; noting his freckles. A crooked smile—not a smirk—laid on the Master’s face.
“Speak Doctor,” he asked. Not demanding. “Distract me from the drumbeats, please,” he requests in a hushed tone. Guess the Doctor got what he wished for, yet he couldn’t help but notice how his hearts squeezed over the Master’s request.
The drums. He remembers when he first heard them. He hated it. It’s a wonder how the Master still stands and although he’s insane, he can still act civilized—or as civilized as he can be—and controlled. The Doctor can admire that much, absolutely.
The Doctor continued to stare into the Master’s eyes, waiting for a bit until his attention left his freckles and met his eyes. “Hi,” he said quietly, as if talking to a child, smiling.
The Master chuckles. Not one where it’s condescending—for once—but one where there’s affection laced with it.
It’s music to the Doctor’s ears. He yearns for it to play repeatedly in his head, like a looping record player. Echoing in an empty room.
“Hello,” he whispers back, smiling gleefully as if they were having a forbidden conversation, as if they were rebelling against some unknown higher-beings. And maybe they were. If the Master being sober was far from him acting like this, then maybe it was forbidden, an unseeing side being shown to the Doctor. A once in a lifetime.
“You know you’re going to get a splitting headache afterwards right?” the Doctor asks, quirking an eyebrow at the Master, awaiting for his response. “Who cares,” he replies unconcerned. The Doctor snorts at this. “You will in a bit,” he says, chuckling at the end.
“I’m a bloody Time Lord,” he slurs, rolling his head. “I could just.. rewind.. or something..”
The Doctor finally laughs out loudly at this. Careening his head back to laugh heartedly. The Master joins in on the Doctor’s contagious laugh.
They make a lovely sound together.
Just like when we were younger, the Doctor thinks to himself.
“What?” the Master asks, still giggling.
“Nothing, just-” the Doctor wipes a tear.
“I missed this,” he sighs. “Me too,” replies the Master.
Their hands are still laced together.
After a bit of silence, the Doctor opens his mouth. “Can I confess something?” The Master looks at the Doctor with half-lidded eyes. “Sure,” he grins.
“I missed you too,” Koschei. “Everytime. Seeing you is like coming back home again,” he says fondly. “It’s scary, if I’m being quite honest,” he admits. “It’s scary because everytime we separate, I expect myself to be the only Time Lord left again. But I never am. And all the grief and loneliness I’ve held, disappear in an instant. Just like that. And it’s always because of you.”
He laments.
“And-” the Doctor draws in a breath, carding his hair back. Wondering how he should say this.
“I hate you sometimes.”
The Master’s eyes flash a look of hurt for a second. His hand holding onto the Doctor’s loosening. The Doctor tightens his hand against the Master’s. Keeping him there.
“But.. I always find myself loving you again in the back of my head. No matter what. It has never not terrified me. I’ll always be aching for you continuously.”
“You have so much power over me sometimes and it’s just a wonder how- how,” he stammers. “How neither of us seem to acknowledge the fact,” the Master finishes.
His eyes, clearer than ever.
They know each other, front and back. This is a fact. The Doctor knows and so does the Master. It’s underlying knowledge.
The Doctor exhales. “Exactly.”
The Master tightens their grip for a second before loosening. “I’m acknowledging it now,” the Master answers. He seemed less buzzed. Perhaps this conversation is starting to sober him up. He’s starting to look a bit closed off more and more.
The Doctor’s starting to miss the mushy and soft Master.
“You won’t.. use this against me..?” the Doctor pauses. Dread started to settle in after his confession. “Right?” he looks, trying to meet the Master’s eyes.
The Master inhales. “I won’t, if..” he hesitates, meeting the Doctor’s eyes for a second before avoiding away again, looking abashed. “..you don’t do the same to me,” he mumbles.
The Doctor halts for a second.
“Master,” the Doctor leans in a bit, gaining the Master’s attention again. “Do I matter to you?”
There must’ve been enough alcohol still in his system because the Doctor probably wouldn’t have gotten his answer that way.
But the Doctor thinks either way that somewhere in the distance, the Master and Doctor knew the answer anyway.
“Yes,” he blows out. Closing his eyes tightly, slumping his head and shoulders as if the truth pained him to say. Maybe it did.
“Look at me. Please,” the Doctor coaxed, timidly. Reaching out his free hand to lift the Master’s chin up lightly. He obliged.
He dragged his hand up to the Master’s temples. “Can I?” he asked.
The Master nodded apprehensively.
The Doctor leaned in till their foreheads touched. The Doctor let his mental shields down, the Master doing the same.
It was like opening a dam.
The rush of the four drum beats pulsed relentlessly against the Doctor’s head but he fought against the urge to pull back.
All their thoughts and feelings merged together. Their memories of the Academy flooding back in. Them playing at the back of the Master’s father’s estate, the wonderful library and its smell of old books and leather rushing their senses and finally, the two lying in bed together close. Whispering old truths and secrets without apprehension.
They were so young back then.
It’s like a loud ensemble reaching the peak of its part. It’s wonderful. It’s beautiful.
It’s everything.
They two finally separated. Panting.
The Doctor felt light-headed and he couldn’t tell if it was from the drums or from their intense telepathic connection.
However, the Doctor noticed that the Master’s hands were wrapped around the back of his neck and his left hand that originally held the Master’s was gripping tightly at the Master’s dress shirt. He noted that his knuckles were white from how tightly he clutched at it. At some point the two must’ve let go of their binded hands from the link.
He let go, cheeks burning up, quickly saying sorry and brushing out the rumpled shirt.
Before he could drop the hand that still lingered around the Master’s temple, the Master grabbed at it. Keeping it there.
The Master’s mouth was slightly agape still from panting. His eyes briefly looked at them before reverting back at the Master’s eyes.
He noticed. And the Master’s pupil seemed to have dilated just a bit from the Doctor’s look. It was unmistakable to know that the Master had a look of want in his eyes.
The Master brought his free hand to the Doctor’s face and pulled him in close. Bringing their cheeks together. The Doctor was slightly disappointed but his body couldn’t help but shudder a little from the Master’s actions.
The Master dragged his lips tantalizingly across the Doctor’s cheeks; across the freckles he’s observed. The Master inhaled. “You smell so good,” he murmured huskily. The intoxicated tone intertwined back into the Master’s voice.
The Doctor had to hold back a groan. The Doctor must admit that even the Master smelled pleasantly as well. He had the vague scent of the aftermath of rain, and he swears he could smell a bit of ink and dried leaves that have fallen off of trees under it.
He let go of the hand that kept the Doctor’s hand on the Master’s cheek to drag it up along the Doctor’s throat.
He moved his lips to the corner of the Doctor’s lips.
What a tease. The Doctor keened.
His hand flung to the back of the Master’s neck to keep him there while the other gripped at the Master’s arm that held his face like glass.
The Master hummed, “I love it when you make those types of sounds.” He licks at the edge of the Doctor’s lips slowly.
The Doctor’s eyes are clenched tightly together. He blows air out of his nose harshly.
“So easy to get a reaction from, so sweet and pliant. All because of me,” the Master says both longingly and cocky against the crook of the Doctor’s lips. The Doctor can sense the actual Master in there from the line, the one with cold, mad thoughts, the one who hungers for control and feasts upon it, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s feeling like putty in his hands.
Finally after the painful teasing, the Master connects his lips with the Doctor. He kisses back enthusiastically with as much desire.
The Master licks and nips at the Doctor’s bottom lip and pulls with fervor. The Doctor lets out a breathy moan. The Master swallows the sound as he tongues the Doctor’s mouth with his own. It causes the Doctor’s hands to fly up into the Master’s hair, making it even more of a mess than it originally was.
The Master’s breath hitches.
The Master does the same with one hand and tugs. The Doctor whines in the back of his throat. The Master does it again to hear the Doctor make the same sound.
It’s brutal. It’s just them finally letting themselves go after holding back for centuries of untold feelings. Obviously it isn’t that simple and all isn’t fixed but it’s the little nudge towards the right direction.
They finally part after their respiratory bypass system started to cry out for air from the two.
The two Time Lords heave for air, foreheads touching against one another. Inhaling and exhaling. The sound of their breathing accompanying the sounds of the humming TARDIS.
This is as far as they’ll be getting.
Today, at least. And that’s okay.
The Doctor takes in how swollen and bruised the Master’s lips are and huffs out a laugh. They really did just do that huh? The Master quirks an eyebrow and lightly slaps the Doctor’s face. It causes him to chuckle.
Once he stops, he brings the hands that once gripped at the Master’s hair down to his face and pulls him in for a gentler kiss.
The Master kisses back deeply and the Doctor beams.
Once they part again the Doctor strokes the sides of the Master’s face gingerly. “I love you Koschei,” he sighs affectionately.
The Master pecks at the corner of the Doctor’s lips. “I love you too, Theta,” he says, earnestly in a low voice where only the two of them can hear.
The Master gently pushes the Doctor down with his weight and creates a nice thump sound, causing the two to lie on the couch horizontally. There isn’t anything sexual about it as the Master slowly drifts off to sleep as the alcohol leaves his system.
The Doctor glides his fingers through the Master’s messed up bleached hair and wonders what would’ve happened if he never entered through the doors to see the Master like this. How they would still have these confessions, secrets, and feelings kept to themselves behind the curtains until fate said otherwise.
As time passes by, the Doctor’s eyes slowly start to droop, the call to sleep overcoming his body. The TARDIS continues to hum in the background as she lulls the Doctor to sleep too.
This was the start of the day the Doctor and the Master were enemies no more, but partners once again (or at least becoming one).