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Time Lords don't need much sleep compared to other species and beings in the universe. They can stay awake for long periods of time, and when they do sleep, only an hour or two of slumber is sufficient.
The Doctor, especially in his current regeneration, rarely pauses for breath, let alone to sleep. He doesn't stop, always jumping from one adventure to the next. Or at least that's how it used to be before he welcomed aboard a new companion that was very different from the rest he's had over the years. Not a human this time, but a Time Lord; the only other Time Lord in the universe.
Taking care of the Master has become a priority for the Doctor, and his travels have taken a backseat for the time being. He still travels now and then, and he's taken the Master with him on a few trips, but life has calmed down a bit for the Doctor, his adventures becoming less dangerous and always taking into account the presence of the Master.
Still, the Doctor rarely stops. He's always finding something to do, keeping himself busy lest unwelcome thoughts and memories invade his mind. Now that he's travelling less, he spends more time inside the TARDIS, fixing and upgrading things, or working on new experiments and inventions in the multiple labs. More than once the Master has found him sleeping uncomfortably with half of his body over a table and a test tube still in hand.
The Doctor would always deny feeling sleepy, even when the signs of tiredness were obvious in his face. This is why it comes as a surprise to the Master when one day, completely unprompted, the Doctor announces to him that he's going to sleep.
“Okay? Why are you telling me?” the Master asks, his mug with coffee stopping halfway to his mouth.
“Because I'm taking a longer nap than usual, and I want to make sure you'll be okay,” the Doctor explains as he finishes his tea, the warm liquid accentuating his drowsiness. He really has been postponing his sleep for too long.
The Master stares at him blankly, not entirely sure why the Doctor going for a nap is such a big deal, until the implications of it finally click in his mind.
“If you're worried I’ll steal your TARDIS and wreak havoc across the universe, shall I remind you of the isomorphic controls? I can't do anything around here,” he says as he looks and gestures around the kitchen where they're currently in. His eyes land on the toaster he used a while ago for his toast. “Well, I suppose I could start another fire, but the TARDIS would put it out in an instant.”
The Doctor pouts, remembering the previous toaster that met a terrible fate in the hands of the Master. “I still miss the old toaster,” he comments sadly to himself before snapping out of his momentary reminiscence. “But no, I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about you. What will you do while I'm asleep? Won't you be bored?”
The Master frowns and lets out a scoff. “I don't need you. I can entertain myself for a couple of hours.” He has plenty of things to entertain himself with in the many rooms aboard the TARDIS that the Doctor has allowed him access to after enough trust built between them. There are many other rooms that are still off limits unless the Doctor is present, but the Master is sure he can live without the pool for a couple of hours.
“Well, that's the thing!” the Doctor exclaims. “It's not a couple of hours, it's more like, uhh, eight hours?”
The Master frowns again, but this time in confusion. “Eight hours?”
“Make it ten, actually,” the Doctor clarifies in a lower voice.
“You're going to sleep for ten hours,” the Master says out loud, and even as the words leave his mouth, he still finds them hard to believe. “How long have you gone without sleep?”
There is a very faint blush rising to the Doctor's cheeks, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but not the Master. He has learned to read this Doctor's face very well, and has memorised most of his mannerisms and weaknesses. He knows the Doctor is about to embarrass himself.
The Doctor mutters an answer, but the Master only catches the end of it, something like ‘or two’.
“What did you say? Two what?”
The Doctor inhales dramatically before speaking again, this time more clearly. “A month or two.”
That statement should be shocking, but it really isn't. Not when it comes from the Doctor.
“Of course you would forget to sleep for two months. How typical of you,” the Master says, rolling his eyes. He knows the Doctor has spent a lot of time in the arboretum recently, growing new species of trees as his new hobby. The Master has visited him there quite a few times, only because it's a nice place to relax, not because he has any interest in what the Doctor does, even if he often gives him notes on whatever he thinks the Doctor is doing wrong.
Waving a hand as if to shoo him away, the Master adds, “Off you go, then. Ten hours without you will be a blessing.”
The Doctor opens his mouth to protest, his expression melting into one of hurt, but ultimately chooses not to, nodding in agreement instead and turning around to leave.
“Behave!” the Doctor shouts as he exits the kitchen.
The Master smiles once he's left alone. That was easy. Now he has most of the TARDIS to himself for ten hours, without the Doctor constantly checking on him and breathing down his neck. Not that he can do much thanks to the isomorphic controls, but it's still better than nothing.
After a few minutes of blissful silence, he finishes the last of his toast and coffee, and soon comes to the realisation that it's very quiet without the Doctor around. He tries not to think too much about it as he goes about his day.
It takes the Master an hour and a half to give up.
He had entered every room available to him in search of anything entertaining enough to do. He hadn't felt like reading, so his trip to the library had been a short one. He had tried watching a film in the theatre room, but had ended up bored after just a few minutes. He had visited the arcade and recreation rooms, but none of the games had grabbed his attention, and board games with only one player simply weren't as fun. The only room that had managed to distract him for a bit had been the arboretum. He had taken some time to check on the Doctor's trees and water the plants, and to sit for a while in one of the benches, enjoying the warmth of the artificial sun.
Now he finds himself standing in front of the door to the Doctor's bedroom. Pointless, really, since the Doctor has most likely locked the door to avoid any disturbance. With no other rooms available to him, and the impossibility of travelling, this really is his last resort. He doesn't know what he's looking for here. To disturb and annoy the Doctor? That could offer some entertainment for a while, at least until the Doctor would inevitably throw him out. That is if he can even enter the room.
Before he can think about it further, the Master takes a step forward without realising it, and the door automatically opens for him. So much for privacy, he thinks. The Doctor has been showing his trust in him more and more lately, which the Master has always found naive and idiotic, but this is ridiculous. To let his greatest enemy enter his room while he's at his most vulnerable – what is he even thinking?
Luckily for the Doctor, the Master is not in the mood for evildoing today. At least not the dangerous kind.
The Master enters the room, which is dimly lit by some sort of atmospheric lighting he can't pinpoint where is coming from, bathing the room in a very faint and warm light that invites sleep and cosiness. He has only been in this room a couple of times, and not much has changed since the last time. It has a similar architecture to the console room and the rest of the rooms in the TARDIS, matching the Doctor's personality. There are a couple of armchairs, a wardrobe that no doubt is filled with dozens of the same couple of suits the Doctor always wears, and a bed in the middle, framed by the same tree-like structures that are found in the rest of the TARDIS. It's a nice place that is mostly used for occasional sleeping and little else, so the Doctor doesn't spend much time in it.
The Master approaches the bed and leans to check on the Doctor, only being able to see part of his face, as the rest of his body is hidden under the covers. The Doctor's eyes are closed, his cheeks are slightly reddened, his hair already more dishevelled than usual, and his breathing slow and calm. It's strange to see the Doctor so relaxed. He looks even younger like this, the Master finds, and that realisation is making something welling up inside him; a warmth in his belly that wasn't there just a moment ago. It also brings back old memories from times past, when both of them were kids running across fields of red grass on a planet that is now forever out of their reach.
The Master closes his eyes tightly and does his best to push those memories away, locking them in the deep recesses of his mind where they won't hurt.
His half-baked plan to annoy the Doctor doesn't sound so appealing now, but he doesn't want to leave either. Perhaps it's because of the cosy feeling that the room seems to emanate, or because of the inviting warmth radiating from the Doctor, but the Master is starting to feel sleepy himself. He's fairly certain that he doesn't need as much sleep as the Doctor at the moment, but a quick nap wouldn't hurt.
Careful not to disturb the Doctor too much, he pulls the covers back just enough to make room for him to enter, and smiles when he notices the Doctor is wearing a pair of pyjamas. The Master shuffles and gets himself into bed, shivering slightly at the sudden change in temperature and rapidly pulling the covers over both of them to keep the warmth inside. The movements inevitably rouse the Doctor, who tries to open his eyes without much success.
“Mmm, eight more hours,” the Doctor mumbles, his voice imbued with sleepiness.
The Master, positioned so close that his knees are almost touching the Doctor's, can't help chuckling softly. “Just go back to sleep,” he whispers, hoping that the Doctor won't even notice his presence and will simply doze off again. Unfortunately, when he lifts his gaze to look at the Doctor, he finds him staring back at him with wide eyes.
“Master?” This time the Doctor's voice comes out a bit clearer and with a note of bewilderment. He's trying to determine if the figure lying next to him, right in front of his nose, is real or a dream he's having. He has experience with lucid dreams, and if he has somehow manifested the Master in one, this is the most realistic lucid dream he's ever had. But this theory is soon discarded when he feels the Master's very real knee bumping into his.
“Shut up,” the Master warns as he shuffles a little more to get more comfortable. That he's getting closer to the Doctor with each movement is nothing more than a coincidence.
A little smile begins forming on the Doctor's lips. “I haven't said anything yet,” he protests affectionately, moving a bit closer. The Doctor can feel the Master's cold feet brushing against his, but he doesn't mind it, and even allows the Master to keep them there to warm them up.
“But I can hear you thinking,” the Master replies with a stern gaze aimed at the Doctor.
The Doctor's mind is racing with thoughts and questions, and can the Master blame him? He hadn't expected to see him until he had had his ten hours of sleep, let alone to find him in his room and – even more surprisingly – in his bed. He had had a suspicion that the Master would get bored after a short while, but he hadn't anticipated for it to happen so soon. Still, the Doctor doesn't mind the company, and as usual, he's determined to make the most of the situation.
Snuggling even closer still, the Doctor narrows the distance between them and tentatively places a hand on the Master's waist. To his delight, the Master doesn't push him away, and instead burrows deeper into the covers and closer to the Doctor until they're almost chest to chest, with the Doctor's neck mere inches away from his face, and the Master's arms tucked comfortably between the two of them. The Doctor takes the opportunity to rest his chin on the Master's head, and his smile widens as the smell of the Master reaches him with his next inhale.
“Mmm, this is nice,” the Doctor murmurs, drowsiness once again painting his voice.
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, the Master reaches up with a hand and covers the Doctor's mouth, giving him another look. “I told you to shut up,” he says more firmly, but there is no real heat in it, and he can't help the slight upturn of his lips when he sees the Doctor's eyes crinkling with a smile, and when he feels the vibration of the Doctor's laughter against his hand. Removing his hand just makes it worse, because now he has to face the Doctor's wide, almost unbearably bright grin.
“Stop being annoying and go back to sleep,” the Master groans, closing his eyes and settling more comfortably against the Doctor's body. He doesn't complain when the Doctor fully wraps his arm around him in a warm embrace, or when he feels the Doctor resting his chin on his head again.
“Sleep tight, Master,” the Doctor whispers, his lips brushing the Master's hair gently.
The Master only hums in response.
It doesn't take the Doctor long to fall back asleep, and for the Master to follow suit.
Eight hours later, the Doctor wakes up with the Master still in his arms, only they're not facing each other anymore. The Master's back is pressed against his chest, their bodies flushed together so tightly that it's hard to determine where he ends and the Master begins. One of his arms is still curled around the Master and held in place by the interlacing of their fingers. Rubbing his nose and forehead against the back of the Master's head, he gets a glimpse of his mind, an accidental psychic link that surprisingly neither of them rejects. That brief connection is enough to inform the Doctor that the Master is awake, and that he's had a good rest, the same as him.
“Do you know what humans call this position?” the Doctor asks all of a sudden, prompting the Master to turn his head just slightly.
“I really don't want to know, but you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?”
A tiny lopsided smirk tugs at the Doctor's lips. “Spooning,” he announces, amusement evident in his voice.
After a couple of seconds of processing this information, the Master snorts and shakes his head. “That's stupid.”
The Doctor joins him with a chuckle. “Comfy, though.”
To prove his point, the Doctor wriggles a little, gently grinding his body against the Master and generating a pleasant friction that pairs quite nicely with the heat radiating from their bodies. It comes to the Master's attention that, being this close to each other, he can feel the Doctor's double heartbeat against his back, and he finds it strangely comforting.
“I suppose it is,” the Master agrees despite himself.
The Doctor stops his squirming and settles again, letting out a sigh of contentment. They both are well rested, but neither of them shows any intention of getting up just yet.
“We should do this more often,” the Doctor says quietly after a moment of comforting silence, and his hearts skip a couple of beats when the Master caresses his knuckles tenderly. He could stay like this forever.
“As long as it keeps you quiet for a while,” the Master replies, and can't contain the smile that blooms on his face when he feels the Doctor laughing behind him. He could get used to this.
Time Lords don't require much sleep compared to other species and beings in the universe, but these two Time Lords rapidly find that indulging in a bit of slumber every now and then can be a nice pastime, and more importantly: one they can do together, like they do most things nowadays. Their nightmares decreasing and their rest becoming more peaceful as a result of this is a happy coincidence, and a welcome side effect.