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"A café? Really?" The Master crossed his arms, trailing obediently behind the Doctor.
"Cafés are cool!" He exclaimed, turning his head to face the Master for a moment. He adjusted his glasses slightly. "This one has food - I've seen some of it - tall things with meat inside. What were they called again..?"
"Employees, I think," The Master answered with a smirk and the Doctor rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, doesn't matter, it's food. You love food," The Doctor rambled on, pausing for a moment to asses their surroundings and make sure they weren't lost.
Unbeknownst to the Master, the Doctor had planned this trip rather extensively, scoping the café out a few times and making sure it was suitable. He made sure there was food for the blond to satiate his hunger - specifically carnivorous food, as the Master made it very clear he wouldn't eat anything green. He often made comments that vegetarians were a waste of population, and the Doctor would have to censor him in public lest he'd anger anyone. It was tiring, but somehow worth it. Worth it to keep the man entertained and stop him from running off.
The Doctor typically planned their 'mundane' trips in advance, just to avoid any human conflicts. Sometimes he even notified the venue beforehand to allow them to prepare. Especially if the venue served food, as he knew the Master would put the cooks to work for as long as his appetite demanded. This wasn't one of those occasions. The Doctor decided they would just show up and it would be fine. A quaint, cosy café with mood lighting and colourfully-haired, uniquely-decorated baristas - what could go wrong? That was a foolish thought, of course, and he knew it well, but sometimes his optimism got the better of him.
After a few more minutes of playful bickering, they arrived at the café. The Doctor was the first in, ringing a bell attached to the door and startling the Master. He scoffed and prayed no-one noticed. There weren't many people inside; a small family sat at a booth in the corner and a couple near a window. Most of the wall to the right was window, letting in a nice amount of natural light filtered by translucent curtains. Many different kinds of plants populated the room. Some hung from the ceiling and the Master poked at one, watching it sway with uncertain curiosity. Most of the furniture was wooden, with the seats cushioned and the tables adorned with cloth.
The Doctor grinned with pride and led the two of them to a small table in the corner, noticing the seats were armchairs. The Master enjoyed curling up on armchairs; sinking into the cushions and hiding under a blanket when it was cold. He gave into the habit immediately, sitting down and bringing his knees to his chest, hugging them. The Doctor sat across from him, having to adjust a few times to get a good position.
"So... Do they come to us, or..?" The Master questioned, genuine despite his sarcastic tone.
"We go to them this time," The Doctor fidgeted with the tablecloth. "You just tell me what you want, I'll order," His voice felt patronising and protective in a way that the Master hated. Most of the time, anyway.
"I can actually order things on my own, you know," He tilted his head and let one leg drop to the floor. "I'm not a child."
"I know," The Doctor brought his eyes up, shooting the Master an innocent look, though he knew exactly what he was doing. "But I also know you make people extremely uncomfortable on purpose and like to bite when they show it."
The Master made a low growl which slowly became words. "...Fine. But if they mess up I'll bite them anyway."
The Doctor smirked and pushed himself up from the armchair. Slipping off his glasses, he placed them on the table and turned towards the counter. The Master glared at them for a moment, imagining himself snapping them in half and chucking them out the window, before interrupting the Doctor's journey.
"You haven't even asked what I want yet!" He complained, attracting the attention of a couple other patrons.
"I already know what you want, silly," The Master scowled at the term, but not without blushing a little. "'Whatever has the most meat in it' is what you want. And probably a chocolate milkshake."
The Master groaned, annoyed by how utterly predictable he was. The Doctor was unfortunately getting better at reading him, but he supposed that came with spending all your time around one person. Learning everything about each other was inevitable, and the process was only sped up by the TARDIS' tendency to make her rooms smaller and significantly less private. That led to some very embarrassing moments of which the two agreed to never speak of again. They had gotten used to it, though, and gradually stopped caring about being so seen. It came in handy sometimes; body language worked wonders when someone was cursed to be silent, or simply when talking was too tiring. It was a bit like sign language, in a way, and was easier than telepathy.
Not that telepathy between the two was hard, necessarily. In fact, it was quite easy after a little while. They had to get back into practice, but once they did, they could talk clearly even without physical connection. The Doctor always left his head ajar for the Master. He thought it was stupid - allowing him in his mind whenever he pleased. After a while of using it to bother him, however, the Master got bored, and only really used it when he was particularly desperate for attention.
The Doctor seldom talked to him via telepathy. He found it easier to just talk normally, or yell when he wanted the Master, which he wasn't very fond of (and neither was the TARDIS). The only times he used his telepathy was when he was tired, sick, panicked, or bored. Boredom allowed thoughts to slip from his head and find their way to the Master, his subconscious begging for entertainment, even when he didn't notice. When that happened, he only realised when the Master had come over to ask what was up, or when he replied and scared the Doctor. It always ended in him teasing his scattered mind.
The Master shook his head, stopping himself from getting too lost in thought. He was quite susceptible to that.
Turning his attention elsewhere, he observed the Doctor's behaviour as he ordered at the counter. He exhaled sharply, smiling at the man's inability to do human things normally despite his 900 year run. Though the Master couldn't really talk - it wasn't as if he was any better. Humans didn't typically bite, snarl, or growl, but they should, he thought. According to the Master, 'it would make them less dull and more exciting to watch'.
'Humans don't need to bite to be exciting', the Doctor had argued, 'you're just violent'. Well, maybe he was violent, but still. Biting was fun.
The Doctor was handed a little stand with a number and brought it back to their table.
"What did the genius, all-knowing Doctor get me, then?" The Master propped a foot on the table and picked at his nails.
"A 'steak sandwich' and 'chicken nuggets'. Oh- and the milkshake, of course,"
The Master squinted, suspicious of the Doctor, though he wasn't sure why. "Good enough. What d'you get?"
"Just a tea. I'm not hungry," The Doctor replied after some hesitation, seemingly taken aback by such a regular question. The Master hummed in response.
Placing a second foot on the table, he started up a conversation. As usual, it didn't get anywhere substantial. Their conversations consisted mostly of complaints, scolds, scoffs, and bad jokes, not daring to tread into anything serious. Anything serious required ample preparation on the Master's side; he wasn't very good with emotions or keeping them in proportion. If the Doctor wanted to properly talk he would make sure they were in the TARDIS and far away from any other life forms, just as a precaution.
The drinks came first, only taking a few minutes after placing the order. The Master's milkshake looked incredibly unhealthy next to the Doctor's English Breakfast, but that was just how he liked it. It was gone within a minute, at most, the Master having discarded the straw and drinking it 'the proper way'. The proper way was apparently drinking as much as you could in one sip.
"You really must pace yourself, Master," The Doctor sipped his tea with exaggerated care. "You're going to throw up. Again."
"No I won't. That was a one time thing," He insisted, licking his lips of the froth greedily.
"Four time thing."
The Master opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a plate of strangely shaped chicken being placed in front of him. He glared at the food, then up at the waiter, then at the food in front of the Doctor. He yanked the sandwich towards him. Just as he was about to test the chicken for edibility, the waiter spoke up.
"Would you and your boyfriend like anything else?" She avoided eye-contact with the Master and asked the Doctor directly.
"His boyfriend? His?" The Master hissed, leaning forwards and dropping the nugget back on the plate. He stared at the man in front of him, looking him up and down with what seemed to be disgust. "I'm not his anything! I am the Master, I own everything."
"Master-"
"If anything, he's my boyfriend, asshole," He stated. The endearment left a sour taste in his mouth once he realised what he said. "-As in he would be if that was the situation. Which it isn't. Obviously. I hate him, actually - watch," The Master flicked a small hot chip at his face, hitting the target with trained accuracy. "See? Hate 'em."
The waiter simply shrugged, as if this was nowhere near the worst thing to happen today, and walked away. She gave the Doctor a light pat on the shoulder and a smirk, but he didn't know what it meant.
"You called me your boyfriend. You never say boyfriend. Or anything friend-related, actually," The Doctor teased, picking the piece of potato out of his cup of tea, as it had ricocheted off his face perfectly and landed there. That wasn't the Master's intention, but it was an added bonus, for sure.
"I didn't call you it, I was making a point. There's a big difference," The Master explained, wolfing down the food in front of him. He conspicuously hid his blush with his sleeve. "If she had called me your girlfriend, I would've done the same thing."
"I wouldn't mind either, actu-"
"Or if she said husband, or wife, or idiot, or timelord, or-"
"Okay, okay, I get it," The Doctor shushed, although he was tempted to see how long the Master could go on for. He put his glasses back on and adjusted his tie. "It was completely situational and meant nothing - point made," He forced away a smile.
The Master huffed, proceeding to finish his food in about two minutes. Unsurprisingly, he was still hungry, but was running out of patience to act normal - or normal-ish, at least. It turned out he rather liked the chicken nuggets, so he demanded 2 more servings, only take-away this time. He was tired and wanted to return to the comfort of the TARDIS to eat in peace.
He joined the Doctor at the counter, looming over his shoulder as he placed the order. The Master rested his head on his shoulder once his neck grew tired of the position.
"Anything else?"
"No, thank you. If he gets hungry he'll just eat me," The Doctor responded to the cashier casually, not at all understanding what he implied. His social skills had really broken down from spending so much time with another timelord that didn't adhere to human social cues. They had been alright when he travelled with humans, but his abilities dwindled quickly after the Master moved in.
The cashier raised her brows suggestively before finalizing the order and accepting the Doctor's money.
The timelords stood at their table, waiting for their second helping of food. As soon as it arrived, they were off, the Doctor carrying the bag. They didn't talk about anything special on their way back to the TARDIS, but the Doctor was focussed on something more interesting. He never admitted it, because he knew the Master would never oblige, but he enjoyed pet names, or even just being acknowledged as someone's significant other. Whether it be boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, darling, sugarplum - no, actually, scratch that one - he liked being called something other than the Doctor, for once. Maybe Theta was his own personal pet name, he wondered, and whether that made Koschei the Master's. It would certainly fit the definition, even though it was a bit jumbled up.
Theta scratched an itch in him that he forgot he had, and had the same, if not stronger, effect as any pet name. It was personal and intimate, and the Doctor found his hearts skipping a beat every time the Master uttered it. What if he introduced him as Theta, his boyfriend/girlfriend/whatever? Imagine how that would feel...
"Oi, Doctor?" The Master snapped his fingers in the Doctor's face and he stumbled back to reality.
"Oh, uhm, sorry. What's happening?"
The Master shot him a curious grin, amused. "You need to open up, I left my keys inside."
The Doctor finally noticed the big blue box in front of them, flinching back as if it had just suddenly appeared. He muttered something and dug through his pockets, eventually finding his keys. He unlocked the TARDIS and let them both inside.
---
The Doctor had silently pondered his ideas for a few hours now. They distracted him immensely. He had attempted to fix part of the TARDIS' console, but only managed to make it worse with his lack of focus. The concept of the Master using pet names for him warmed his hearts, and he couldn't push the idea away no matter how hard he tried. He tampered with the TARDIS' wires and switches pointlessly, hands idly keeping busy while his mind wandered elsewhere.
"I can hear you, you know," A familiar voice created a spark in his mind and the Doctor dropped his sonic screwdriver in surprise. "You're horrible at controlling your head. Truly awful."
The Master stepped up behind him. Of course he could've just said it out loud, but invading the Doctor's mind was so much more fun.
"Hear what?" The Doctor felt sweat bead at his hairline, refusing to face the man behind him. He forced causality in his voice and tried his best to play dumb.
The Master chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Such an idiot..." He mused, now verbal, wrapping his arms around the Doctor from behind in a soft embrace. "I wouldn't have expected you to be a sucker for pet names,"
The Master paused, waiting to see if the Doctor would reply. Frozen in place, he stayed quiet.
"I suppose Theta could be a pet name..." He continued, mainly to himself. "I'd prefer saying that over 'darling' any day. And 'partner' certainly isn't my style, either - too domestic. Yuck."
He waited again. This time the Doctor turned in his arms, unsure where to put his own. He was a little worried that reciprocating the touch would scare the Master off.
"'Boy-girlfriend' I could handle, strictly on the condition you don't call me yours," The Master mumbled with his face pressed to the Doctor's chest. His voice vibrated throughout his torso and he flushed, now with a fond smile rather than the terrified look he had on before. "Just possessive enough for me, I think."
The Master pulled away from the Doctor and looked up to examine his face. Placing his hands under his coat and on his hips, he smiled, somewhere between malicious and satisfied.
"Theta. My girlfriend-slash-boyfriend..." The Master spoke slow, testing the feel of the words on his tongue. "Hmm. I could manage."
Scoffing and shaking his head, he let go of the Doctor. Warmth radiated off their faces and coloured them both a deep pink. The Master pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Just don't get used it. You're lucky I'm in a good mood," And with that, he spun on his heels and left, returning to his bedroom down the hall.
The Doctor brushed his cheek lightly, tracing the lingering feeling of the kiss. The Master's endearments ran circles in his mind and his hearts pattered restlessly in his chest. He savoured the moment for as long as he could, knowing the next may never come. But he had faith it would - or desperate hope, rather. Either way, he cherished it.
"I can't believe I just fuckin' did that..." The Master sighed in his head, and the Doctor giggled.