Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“One day!” the Doctor called, running around her console in panic to quickly shut the door behind them with a lever. “Just one day without you getting us into trouble. Was that too much to ask?”

The Master ran around the console in the other direction, trying to reach the same lever, and ended up blocking her way.

“All I did was try on that crown, how could I have known...”

“It had several signs all around the heavily sealed glass vitrine, saying not to touch it!”

“Yeah, well, when did signs ever stop me?”

The Judoon had almost reached the door now and the Doctor quickly shoved herself past him, pulling the lever and closing it with a sigh of relief.

It didn't last long, because a second later, the Judoon were starting to ram against the ship, leaving it shattering from their force after every blow.

“Idiots, they can't possibly get in here,” the Master sneered but the Doctor gave him a dark side glare.

“They can put it in a stasis field and keep us from dematerialising. And they do know how to trace a TARDIS, you're aware of that?”

“Aw, please,” the Master replied with a dismissive wave, “I've been chased by Judoon a million times, they're highly incompetent.”

“You're one to talk,” the Doctor muttered under her breath and the Master glared after her as she stepped around him once more to put in new coordinates a few galaxies away from the space police.

The Master covered the buttons with a hand, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“I told you a thousand time, if you'd just use the quick programme I installed...”

“And I told you,” the Doctor hissed back. “I don't trust your stupid quick programme. The one time I used it, we almost ended up head-first inside a volcano!”

“That happened once!” the Master called out, indignantly. “I fixed it since then!”

“Like you fixed the Chameleon Circuit?” the Doctor chirped innocently.

The Master, growling, ran around the console and repeatedly hit the quick programme button.

“Stop that!” the Doctor called, abandoning her coordinates to stop him from smashing the button and have them end up Rassilon knows where.

“I told you!” the Master replied, while blocking her attempts to come closer with his shoulders. “I did fix it, your stupid ship just ignores it!”

“My ship's not stupid! We liked it how it is, you don't have to come in here and improve everything!”

She tried to pull him away from the console with force now, but he simply blocked her with his elbow, then smashed her against some levers with a laugh that quickly died, as alarms went off.

“Look what you did now!” she shouted over the noise. Red blinking lights filled the console room and the Master started moving for the monitor at the same moment the Doctor did from the other direction, making them run against each other with a loud “thumb” and falling to the floor, while the TARDIS spiralled through the Time Vortex in high speed, threatening to crash.

They flung over the floor rapidly, the Doctor crashing into her husband so many times, he stopped making little “umph” noises and instead grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her steady while he crashed against the nearest wall with his back.

The Doctor suppressed a little scream, trying her best to not put her whole weight on him, but before she could do as much as apologise, he had pressed his lips against hers.

Seriously? she asked through their telepathic connection. Now?

He simply grinned.

Might as well. We're already in perfect position.

The lights went black and smoke ascended from the console as they finally crash landed, but none of the Time Lords noticed, both far too busy kissing each other with passion, teeth and lips and tongues crashing together in a silent battle.

“She's completely wrecked,” the Doctor sighed after a while inside the darkened console room, her suspenders dangling down from her hips, her hair dishevelled and her lips swollen. “It'll take ages to fix her and we gotta get some energy over to her. Is yours fine?” she called through the open door into the Master's TARDIS.

“Uh,” he called back. “Bit shaken up. I can transfer some energy, though, should be fine.”

He stuck his head back out through the frame, his hair adorably dishevelled and a little bit of smudge on his face, as he held out a long, glowing cable towards her.

“You know, while we're at it, I could also add...”

“No,” the Doctor replied shortly, but took the cord and quickly plugged it into her TARDIS power core.

“You didn't even let me...”

“I said no.”

“But...”

“Leave her alone! She's perfect the way she is! She doesn't need your constant changes!”

“She's an old model, on the edge of falling apart and you're keeping her together with string and... and... bubblegum!”

“So what, as long as she's holding together. She's never brought me anywhere I didn't want to be!”

“No?” the Master asked, from inside his own TARDIS, eyes fixed on the monitor telling him exactly where and when they were. “Then you might want to take a look at this.”

“This is not true,” the Doctor remarked dryly as she stood next to the Master in his console room, staring at the screen in terror. “You're kidding. This is a bad joke.”

“My jokes are never bad,” the Master remarked dryly. “And I definitely wouldn't joke about.... this.”

He shivered in horror.

“No, really,” the Doctor replied, still not looking at him, her voice toneless. “You made your point. I got it. My TARDIS is old and took us... took us... here. Let's go.”

“Uhm...” the Master bit his lip, looking sheepish all of a sudden.

“What?”

“It's just... with the power cord connected and all... I can't really... move her right now.”

The Doctor groaned, then leaned down to pull at the cord.

“No, Doc...-”

The air fizzled, then got very, very cool, and the lights went out, leaving them in total darkness, except for a little window of light in the distance, where the Doctor's TARDIS window opened to the outside world.

“... Okay, what happened?”

“What do you mean what happened,” the Master growled and she could feel the anger in his eyes, could hear the way he was gritting his teeth. “You short-circuited my TARDIS, that's what happened.”

“I suppose now this is my fault, is it?” the Doctor called out. “You're the one who insisted on that stupid quick programme of yours! None of this would've happened....”

They both fell silent as they heard bangs on their door.

“Are you in need of assistance?” someone called from outside.

They both froze, looking at the door in shock, unable to see each other's face, but still knowing the absolute terror that would surely, surely be visible under different circumstances.

“What should we do?” she whispered, all fights forgotten and the Master, next to her, grabbed her hand. She could feel it shake slightly.

“Stay here for a few hundred years, until our eyes have evolved to see in total darkness and we manage to fix our TARDIS?”

“... Master.”

“We can't go out there! We can't, Doctor.”

“There's probably candles out there. Or flash lights. We just.... go out, say hi and... work on fixing our ships as quick as possible!”

The same voice from outside called out to them again, now sounding worried.

“We can hear your voices, is everything alright? We're here to help!”

The Master shuddered again.

“I can't, Doctor. Go. Go without me. Leave me behind.”

“Oh, wouldn't you like that!” she hissed. “No way you're sending me out there on my own!”

“They might let you go! Me? Never! They'll lock me up in one of their cages, you know they will!”

“And what if they don't let me go, hm? You have a nice, calm life in here, waiting for your eyes to evolve and I am stuck outside, with... with... them?”

“You're such a fan of kindness, why not stand for it a little, hm?” the Master gave back, sounding desperate now.

The voice from outside called again, sounding impatient.

“Are you fighting in there? It seems to me like you're fighting. You should know that on our planet, fighting is strictly prohibited!”

They exchanged a look. Of course, they couldn't see, but they both knew they did it and that was what mattered.

The Master sucked in air in a heavy sigh.

“We have no choice, do we?”

“I don't think we do,” the Doctor replied, squeezing his hand. “Together or not at all.”

“Together,” he agreed, taking a hesitant step forwards in the darkness, towards the little field of light leading their way. “But I'm telling you, I sure wish the Judoon had gotten us instead.”

“I sure hope wearing that stupid crown for one second was worth it,” she mumbled bitterly and in the light of the window they were now facing, she could see the Master's cheeky grin directed at her.

“You tell me, next time we have sex and I'm wearing it.”

The Doctor, hands already on the door, threw him an incredulous side glare.

“You took it?”

“Say what you want, but I know you think it's hot. You have a thing for me in a crown, come on, admit it.”

“You took the crown?” she asked hysterically and within seconds, they both stumbled out into the open, the sudden light of day blinding them enough for the Doctor to stop pounding her fists into his chest as they rolled around on the floor.

A very upset looking duck leaned over them and before they could do as much as explain themselves, they were tied up back to back.

“You're under arrest for disturbance of peace and physical, public violence, under the laws of Fried'en,” the duck announced, beak quivering with importance and visible distress.

The Doctor and the Master turned their heads to each other in a cramped angle, glaring, as they both, in the exact same second, called out, “This is all your fault!”

Chapter Text

It was a bit of a deja-vu, standing here like this with the Master, the judge looking down on them with disapproving gaze and furrowed brows. He hadn't changed much, simply grown a few grey feathers, but his demeanour was just as stoic and cool as always.

The Doctor gave him a nervous smile as she looked up at him and the other ducks surrounding them.

“So we... so we thought... how are our old Friedianer friends doing... and... and stopped by...”

The Master nodded eagerly behind her.

“And now here we are...” the Doctor finished weakly.

The judge looked at her with an eyebrow raised and held up a piece of paper. With a dry voice, he began reading and the Doctor recognised with a shock the letter they had left behind after.... the incident.

“Dear ducks, we're really sorry for being such a pain, therefore we have decided to leave your planet, active immediately, to free you from our very troubling presence...”

“That was... very considerate, I'm sure you'd agr-...”

“Goodbye, suckerz.”

The way he read it made the Master snort, but the Doctor just stood there, eyes closed as if in a physical pain.

“A.. a joke,” she finally brought out. “Under friends.”

The judge continued.

“We hope to never see your ugly, feathered, nightmare faces ever again. Make sure to never meet me in a dark street or you could possibly loose a few inches of size,” he cited.

The Doctor turned towards the Master with silent fury. He had, at least, the decency to look sheepish, while he fought to suppress his grin

“You asked me to sign your stupid letter, so I... had to write something I was agreeing with.”

She turned back to the judge who was now eyeing her with both eyebrows raised.

“My husband has... a very peculiar sense of humour,” she tried but was met with a completely unimpressed, hard stare.

“Okay, listen,” the Doctor dropped any pretence now. “I know what you're thinking. But we've changed, really. We're happily married. You already fixed us. We left because it was all fixed. That's good, right? No need to keep us here.”

“You were found physically assaulting your husband.”

“It was... just... It's how we show our love.”

“Is it customary in your society to show your love by violence?” the Judge asked, face buried in their file.

The Doctor had already opened her mouth when the Master fell into her words, giving her an intense glare telling her to shut up.

“Yes, actually, you see, that's why we have such trouble following your rules. We grew up punching each other. Left and right. Everyone on our planet does it. It's not violence for us, it's... love.”

“From the look of your files that a man called Borusa kindly gave for your trial...”

“Oh God,” the Master muttered under his breath.

“... it seems that you have been marked down exceptional 43 times as punished for severe fighting and acts of violence against one another. You are also marked down as, and I quote, 'unspeakable force of problems' for both, each other and your classmates.”

He looked up with a cold stare.

“That doesn't seem to me like your society supports your violent tendencies any more than we do.”

The Master's face had frozen in a grimace.

“If we're unspeakable,” he finally brought out through gritted teeth, “then why did he have to speak about it?”

The Doctor let her shoulders sink, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, yes, we've always been... different from our people. But that doesn't mean that we're not... we're in love. We are. And I'm actually... trying my best to be a good force in the universe. Helping people wherever I can.”

“We have been informed by the authorities,” the judge replied with a wry smile, “that you were being chased by three forces of Judoon for theft.”

Again, the Doctor turned back to the Master, her expression stony.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, hands raised. “I get it. I do. I shouldn't have taken the crown. Message received.”

“Oh?” the Doctor hissed. “You think?”

“The Judoon agreed to have you placed in our custody, as our influence might be good for you. You are to be informed, that this time, we shall not tolerate any of your violent behaviour. You shall act like a productive part of our peaceful society or you're to be given to the Judoon. I have been implored to tell you that the Queen you have stolen from is calling for your execution.”

The Master's mouth fell open.

“Isn't that a bit harsh? It's just a wee little crown.”

“It was, apparently, of unmeasured value to her, as it belonged to her long deceased husband. We were asked to give it back.”

Two relatively big ducks stepped towards them with their hands raised.

The Master glanced at the Doctor, as if looking for support, then, with a growl, pulled the crown out of his inside pocket and rammed it onto their hands.

With a swift movement, the other duck seized his arm and encased it with a wristband, similar to the one they had worn before.

“Now, this is merely an improved version to keep you within our force-field and detect any kind of violent or disturbing behaviour. Additionally, we have placed Judoon around the borders of our city. We have brought your ships into our city hall, where they are also guarded. Doctor, your arm, if you will.”

She looked around, her hearts racing, her head trying desperately to think of a way out. But the truth hit her as she looked into the Master's disgruntled face.

Even if she could find a way out, even if she could outran these ducks and reach their ships, there was no way she was going to leave him behind.

With a sigh, she held out her arm and quickly found it encased in the very same wristband the Master was wearing, staring down at it gloomily.

“So, for how long are we going to have to stay?” she asked, tonelessly.

The judge straightened his chin.

“For until we deem you healed from your irrational, violent behaviour.”

“So forever,” the Master translated darkly, making the Doctor scoff in agreement.

The sight of their old house filled the Doctor with nothing but a sinking feeling of doom. Sure, it hadn't been all bad. She had had the Master with her, to keep her company, keep her from going insane (as ironic as that may be), keep her from running circles in boredom – But she still remembered the feeling of being trapped, her wings capped and her freedom taken from her.

To be here again... it just... it wasn't...

She got distracted by the Master who was grinning at the neighbour's house with a devious gleam in his eyes.

A red, big “for sale” sign had been set up in the neatly kept garden.

“Neighbour recently moved out?” he asked the guard that had led them back to their old home. “Looks like someone still lived here quite a while ago.”

The guard gave him a dark look.

“She had to... uhm... leave very suddenly. Family obligations.”

“Of course,” the Master replied cheerfully. “That's just the downsize of family, eh? Oh sorry,” he added with a little laugh, disguised as a cough. “I meant downside of course.”

The Doctor shook her head demonstratively.

They were never gonna get out of here.

The guard gave him another death glare, before opening the door for them and handing the Doctor the keys with a defiant shake of his head. He walked off as quick as he could and they heard him quacking angrily all the way back through the slightly overgrown front garden.

“You know,” the Master commented after a little while of them both staring down the aisle opened in front of them with dread. “If I just provoke them enough, I think I can turn them all violent. Then they'd have to let us go.”

“Then they'd execute you for bringing the plague over their planet.”

The Master gave her a side glare.

“Why does everyone end up wanting to execute us?”

“I wonder,” the Doctor replied dryly. “Come on, let's get this over with.”

They stepped inside, both at the same time, holding their breaths as they walked over the threshold.

“Smells the same,” the Master finally commented and the Doctor turned around to him with a frown.

“What does it smell like?”

“Fried duck.”

“You know, when you set them up to wave goodbye, I really thought it was funny.”

They stood in the living room, where a horde of dust-free, self-made duck mannequins were greeting them with lifeless eyes and raised sock hands. She could see his point. When she had set all of these up, it had been a nice little joke, nothing too vicious, clearly, but now it seemed like they were all mocking them.

“Let's throw them into the garden shed?” she suggested and he agreed with a grunt, grabbing the velvety and the American duck under their arms and carrying them outside.

They carried them out silently, both not in a very talkative mood, but when the Doctor was carrying the last duck out, the Master suddenly met her with a panicked gaze.

“Not that one.”

“Why, what about that one?”

She looked down at it, the long, black coat with the red lining and the straw it had on its head for hair.

“It doesn't behave around the others,” the Master grumbled, grabbed it and kicked it over the hedge. He stood with a satisfied grin on his face, as the little “thumb” resounded from the neighbour's premises.

The Doctor stared at him in utter confusion.

“Sometimes,” she finally sighed, “sometimes I still dream of that divorce we've never gotten.”

The Master kissed her temple with a wide grin.

“Sounds like an incredibly dull dream to me.”

“Some call it dull, I call it peaceful and quiet,” she gave back as they walked back inside, arms intertwined and the Master chuckled lightly.

“If peaceful and quiet is what you're after, I believe I have brought us to the right place.”

Chapter Text

The Doctor stood in the door frame to their old bedroom, her eyes narrowed and her stomach heavy.

“Master!” she called, because oh, she was going to ruin him for this.

“Master!” she called louder, because he seemed to know from her tone that it would be best not to step into her vicinity right now.

“Master!” she called one last time, her voice now carrying a very clear threat, letting him know that if he wasn't about to step into her vicinity right this moment, he was going to spend the next few days in agony.

He appeared next to her with a sheepish, slightly nervous smile on his face.

“Yes, love?”

She pointed at their bed, covered with noting but an empty duvet cover and some sheets.

The Master gulped.

“No pillows?” he asked and stepped in, holding the empty covers into the air with a finger. “Or blankets, I suppose?”

She gave him a hard glare and his already nervous smile seemed to falter slightly.

“Nothing... nothing with feathers in, huh?” he asked. “Funny that.”

The Doctor's eyes were glowing with rage and he sighed, finally letting the duvet cover fall back onto the mattress.

“I suppose you're about to say something along the lines of 'this is all your fault, Master', but if you give me, let's say, ten minutes, I can give you a whole list of reasons why it's not.”

Ten minutes would be enough of a head start to make it to the other side of the village and escape her wrath... or at least he hoped so.

The Doctor looked like she was about to consider physical violence (again), when suddenly, their door bell rang.

They exchanged a look.

“Do you... feel like you know who this is, too?” he asked, tentatively, and the Doctor sighed.

“Oh, she's going to love this.”

Kristiane, it turned out, had retired from her job quite a while ago, after having taken a long, long holiday. She had decided she quite liked the peace of spending time with her – she emphasised this point heavily – loving, healthy functional family and had raised a second child in their absence.

“Hey, good for you!” the Doctor called out cheerfully and hugged her feathered friend awkwardly. The Master, however, stood in the back, hand in his pocket as he leaned against the door frame, watching cautiously.

“And you're here... why?”

The Doctor turned to give him a rather obvious “Don't drive away our only friend” face, but he ignored her, his narrowed, dark eyes focused on Kristiane, who straightened up before him, her chin slightly raised now.

“I just wanted to welcome you back in the neighbourhood. Politeness might be a foreign concept to you, but we on this planet, still possess it.”

“What,” the Master replied with a cold smile, “and no muffins?”

Kristiane's expression grew colder.

“I was out of milk. Maybe I can bring some next time.”

The Master scoffed lightly.

“Right. Next time. When's that? This time tomorrow? For... oh, I don't know... about an hour?”

Kristiane's hands trembled slightly and the Doctor, having watched the two of them with a mix of fascination and dread, let out a huff.

“Come on,” she turned towards her husband. “You don't really think she's here for thera...-”

“Same time tomorrow sounds lovely, so glad you're free, then. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She shook the Doctor's hands firmly, before leaving the house, still looking awfully stiff as she closed the door behind herself with trembling hands.

“Bring something to write,” the Master called after her cheerfully, waving from the window as she turned around one last time before stomping off.

The Master turned towards the Doctor, an eyebrow raised.

“I thought she was retired,” the Doctor breathed weakly, still looking at the door.

He shrugged.

“I guess they decided that no one else can handle us.”

He gave her a bright grin.

“Poor Kristiane. I guess she never told them that she couldn't, either.”

“And I thought she just wanted to visit and catch up,” she sighed, looking around the empty hall. “Do you think if we torture her enough, she'll bring us proper pillows?”

The Master frowned.

“Do you want the honest answer or one that's not gonna condemn me to sleep on the sofa?”

“Never mind,” the Doctor muttered.

The rest of the day was incredibly noisy, making the Master go out of his mind, as he ran up and down their living room, holding his head and growling.

“It's probably a new neighbour moving in,” the Doctor offered, trying to stay calm despite his constant movement slowly riling her up. “It'll be over in a bit, surely?”

The Master growled even louder.

“I definitely hope so. If I wanted noise in my head, I wouldn't have forced Rassilon to bloody get rid of it.”

The Doctor gave him a side glance.

“I heard rumours that you murdered him by shoving a white point star down his throat after, any of that true?”

The predatory grin on the Master's face when he turned back around to her was all the answers she needed.

“Got a problem with that?”

She grimaced.

“Nah. I think it's kinda hot.”

Frowning, the Master sat down next to her on the sofa, laughing softly.

“You're an incredible hypocrite, anyone ever told you?”

“Yeah,” she replied lightly. “You. Several times. But I can't help it. I really cannot stand him.”

The Master wriggled his eyebrows at her.

“Hot.”

She brought her face close to his, breathing her next word against his lips, her eyes darkening slightly as she looked firmly into his.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes...” The Master leaned in, lips brushing hers and she could feel his beard scratch her chin, could taste him on her already, when another loud bang made him jump up in rage, shouting loudly.

The Doctor jumped up after him, glaring at the wall.

“You know what? Now it's annoying me, too.”

The Master halted, then flashed her one of his most charming grins.

“Don't worry, love, I can do you and curse the neighbour at the same time, I'm simply that excellent at multi-tasking.”

He stepped towards her with a wide grin, pulling her close and kissed her hard, before throwing her onto the sofa, making her cry out in surprise.

As he climbed over her, there was mischief gleaming in his eyes.

“Let's show them what real noise sounds like.”

Sleep was difficult that night. The noise from next doors had finally relented, but the air was chilly in their little bedroom and matters were not helped by the thin duvet cover being the only thing to crawl under.

The Doctor had cuddled up as close as she managed to the Master, who, with a cheeky grin, had decided that if he had to sleep without a pillow, he was simply going to use her as one. His head resting on her chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, and his silky black hair tickling her nose, she could almost feel at peace, somehow.

But the weight of their situation and the cold of the night crept up on her, making her restless.

After a while of wishing she could turn around in the bed or just walk off the chill in her bones, she felt the Master's hands around her squeeze lightly.

“What's wrong, love?” he asked and his sleepy voice so close to her ears made her sigh in irrational relief.

“What's wrong? Everything, everything is wrong, Master. How the hell did we end up back here?”

He shifted slightly, sitting up on his elbows left and right from her, to look up at her. His smile was softened by the sleepiness still present in his warm, brown eyes.

“It'll be alright, Doctor. We're here together, right? And no one can contain us. You know they can't.”

He yawned, letting his chin rest back onto her chest, pressing a sloppy kiss to her collarbone as he did.

“We'll be alright.”

The Doctor took a deep, shaky breath, but could feel a bit of the tension fall off her. Pressing a soft kiss onto the top of his head, she held him tighter against herself, her eyes finally falling shut, letting her sink into a peaceful sleep with not a single duck or duck-like creature in sight.

Chapter Text

When the Master woke up, it was to the smell of something burning. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and the duvet dragged behind him as it had wrapped around his ankle when stumbled out of bed hastily, heading for the kitchen.

“Doctor, for God's sake, we talked about this, no cooking without my supervision!” is what he had meant to say, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a sleepy string of slurred words.

He closed his mouth with a heavy sigh as he found her, standing in the middle of a rise of grey steam coming from the oven, flour in her hair and the windows torn wide open in what he could only assume was panic to get out the smoke.

She looked incredibly lost, shoulders sunken in, a gloomy look on her face and a strand of hair sticking to her forehead.

The Oncoming Storm, subdued by continued misfortunes in the kitchen.

He gave her a soft little grin, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Let me guess,” he sighed, swaying her slightly. “You thought you were ready?”

“It worked so well last time,” she replied, sullenly hiding her face in his shoulders. “I thought I could surprise you. I was trying to make muffins.”

The Master couldn't help but snort slightly.

“It worked well last time because I was there, putting out three fires you hadn't even noticed you had started.”

“Oh,” she said after a little beat and he raised a hand to rub her back gently.

“Why is it so important to you anyway?” he finally asked. “We've been trying to get you to cook for ages now, you're just...” He coughed gently. “I mean... your talents lie somewhere else.”

“Real charming,” she replied, boxing his shoulder gently – neither of them noticed their wristbands glowing red for a second. “I don't know. It's just... I don't like not being good at something. Is that stupid?”

He shrugged, taking a step back to softly wipe the sticky strand of hair off her face.

“You're aware that you're speaking to the biggest perfectionist this universe has ever seen, yeah?”

She seemed to barely hear him.

“Aren't women supposed to be good at this sort of crap?” The poor, blackened muffin forms on the floor shattered as she kicked them and he picked them up quickly, regarding her with an amused smile.

“What, you think because you have shiny blond hair now, you've suddenly gained a new skill set? I don't think that's quite how gender works.” He frowned. “Not that I know much about it.”

Finally, her face lightened up as she gave him a little smirk.

“Nah. I had shiny blond hair before.”

The Master laughed.

“That you had. Come on, let's clean up this mess. And next time you want muffins, just ask me. That's what we're married for – We're supposed to complement each other, remember?”

“Oh, does that go for cooking, too?” the Doctor asked, a cheeky grin on her face that belied her seemingly innocent tone. “I thought that was only for, you know, the whole moral and amoral thing we have going on.”

The Master raised an eyebrow.

“I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to, my love.”

He watched her bow down to pull out the smoking wreck out of the oven, grinned and turned around.

The Doctor found him ten minutes later, lying on the couch and happily snoring.

“Didn't you say we wanted to clean up together?” she asked loudly.

The Master opened one eye first, then the other, grinning up at her lightly.

“If you remember the correct use of words, you'll find out I never implied my participation in any way. Just how I haven't participated in creating the mess in the first place.”

He yawned cosily.

“You mean just how I didn't participate in the mess that left us stranded here, again, my love?” she asked and his grin slowly faded off his face.

“Right,” he said, looking at the smudgy rag she held out for him, as it slowly dropped down onto his shirt. “That.”

For a second, he considered his options. But considering they were currently trying not to be violent with each other, he supposed it was better for everyone involved if he just... helped.

With a sigh, he rolled off the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

He found the Doctor ten minutes later, lying on the exact spot he had left behind, deeply asleep.

With a small smirk, he shook his head and started the oven to make some actual muffins.

“So, how are your children?” the Doctor asked, smiling brightly as she sat down opposite to Kristiane. The Master sighed and grabbed a second chair, letting himself fall down next to the Doctor, his arm possessively around the back of hers.

“They're with the nanny today,” Kristiane replied dryly, her face buried in paperwork. “Would you say your husband has always been violent?”

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, the Doctor's reply came instinctively, escaped her before she could properly think about it.

“Yes. Uhm. What about your husband, can't he take them?”

“He's at work,” Kristiane replied, scribbling something down on her paper. “Loves his job. Someone has to. What about you, would you say your violent tendencies have worsened since you've met your husband?”

Perplexed, the Doctor exchanged a look with the Master, who simply shrugged.

“Uhm. I'd say he certainly didn't help matters.”

The Master shot her a look, something between an amused grin and an eye-roll.

“Interesting,” Kristiane replied, sounding incredibly disinterested.

The Doctor, having enough of her cool demeanour, started another attempt of putting on a wide, inviting smile.

“We made some muffins, would you like some?”

The Master, now looking alert for the first time since their session started, mouthed the word “we?” back at her, but she simply waved towards the kitchen with a dismissive glare.

He got up, his teeth grinding, walked into the kitchen and came back with a bowl filled with the black, burnt remains of the Doctor's attempts to bake.

“Here,” he announced, letting the bowl smash down onto the table between them. “The Doctor made these especially for you. With love.”

His cool, dangerous smile got met and reciprocated by Kristiane, before she took one of the... things, not letting her gaze waver once, eyes so focused on the Master, the Doctor imagined she could feel the tension in the air between them, and bit.

There was a loud crunching sound as she chewed, her face not moving in the slightest, her eyes still fixated on him.

She ate the whole thing, one bite after another and no one spoke a single word, while the sounds escaping her mouth made them both shiver. They reminded the Doctor of fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Delicious,” Kristiane finally said after the loudest and most uncomfortable five minutes of chewing that the Doctor had ever had to endure.

She exchanged a wide-eyed gaze with the Master.

“Uhm. Alright,” the Doctor finally interrupted the silence. “Do you... do you have more questions for us?”

Kristiane gave her a wry smile.

“Didn't even know ducks had teeth,” the Master muttered while brushing his own. “Honestly, did you see that woman? It was terrifying.”

“Ducks might not, but she most certainly has,” the Doctor shuddered, spitting out water into the sink next to him. “I can't believe she just ate it. It looked like she was declaring war on you.”

The Master crunched up his face.

“She can try, I have an army locked up inside the shed.”

With a side glare at him, the Doctor dried her mouth off.

“Yeah well, leave it where it is. I was actually trying to make peace, in case that wasn't obvious. You could've just given her the perfectly fine chocolate muffins you made.”

“I made them for us,” the Master replied, sulking like a little child. “She's not getting any.”

“Neither are you,” the Doctor grumbled, before leaving the bathroom.

The Master didn't come to bed for another hour. She was lying there, in the chilly, empty bedroom, staring at the ceiling, grasping at the thin duvet cover in case he wanted to steal it later and wished she had learned, in all their time together, or, more importantly, all the times she had made him sleep on the sofa, how to sleep on her own.

She figured he was either sulking or planning something or – even worse – both, and she simply refused to give him the satisfaction to walk into either of those possibilities.

When the bedroom door finally cracked open, the Master's shadow proceeded him inside and the Doctor forced herself to close her eyes, forced herself to keep her breath even, as if she wasn't incredibly relieved.

The Master sat down on the bed next to her and she could hear his little grin in his voice when he spoke.

“Yeah, I know you're awake, but nice try.”

She opened her eyes, ready to roll them and ask what took him so long, when her words got stuck in her throat and her eyes widened.

“What... what are... how... Master, I swear, if you stole this one, too...”

But the Master just snorted.

“Please, who from, the queen of all ducks?”

He took off the crown and the Doctor blinked, sitting up to look at it closer. Now that her eyes were getting used to the dimmed light from the creak in the door, she could see it was made from paper and glitter. Against her will, a little grin appeared on her face.

“Is it everything you had hoped it would be?” she asked and the Master's grin grew hungry.

“I should ask you this question, my dear, dear Doctor. It has currently come to my attention that you have quite the thing for crowns...”

“Oh, you mean when you made it up yourself?” she asked innocently, but he remained unbothered by her sarcasm.

“... And so I have taken it upon myself to satisfy your quite extravagant urges.”

“Well, I'd be quite surprised if you'd let anyone else try, honestly,” she replied dryly, but before she could make another snarky comment, the Master had pinned her against the mattress, her wrists in his hands and a devious grin on his face.

“You will address me by my title, love.”

The Doctor raised her eyebrows, but couldn't quite deny the flood of arousal rolling through her, leading her to push her hips up ever so slightly, trying to gain friction from his flush body against her.

The Master's lips twitched.

“Master?” she tried but he raised his eyebrows.

“ 'My Lord' will do:”

“Oh, I get it,” she grinned. “Because you're the King of paper now.”

The grip around her wrists tightened threateningly and the Doctor let out a little giggle.

“Alright, you're stupid. But consider me intrigued... my Lord.”

He gave her a quick kiss, before slipping back into his role. He grabbed her wrists with one hand now, letting the other down, a gentle, light trail over her side, below the hem of her shirt and then into her panties, the grin on his face spreading as she squirmed beneath him.

“Please, do behave,” he muttered against her skin, kissing the side of her neck, before teeth began to scrape lightly. “Insolence will not be tolerated by your King.”

“That's a shame,” she replied rather breathlessly, pressing against the fingers testing out her folds. “I so like to be insolent.”

“That I heard,” he muttered, before pulling back his fingers, letting them run up underneath her shirt, weighing her breasts and twisting her nipples with a little growl. “A woman worthy to be tamed by her King.”

“Good luck with that, my Lord,” she grinned, “stronger men than you have tried and failed.”

That got him mad, as she knew it would, and with a low growl, he crashed his lips against hers, kissing her hard, his hands running over her body eagerly and her wrists finally free. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him.

“Of course, no one ever had me quite this intimately... so maybe it's your lucky day, huh?”

He stared down at her with narrowed, darkened eyes, a little, dangerous glitter inside them that made the Doctor's hearts speed up and she felt herself getting wetter as his fingers returned.

“You want your King, don't you?” he breathed and she let out a low little purr for him.

“Oh, so much, my Lord.”

“Show your King, then,” his voice was raspy as he moved downwards, planting kisses onto her collarbone. “Beg.”

The Doctor didn't hesitate for a moment – With a little moan, she pressed up against him, words falling from her lips so easily, she would've been surprised, hadn't she been in a haze of need.

“Please, your Majesty, please, take me... I need you to show me all that I've been missing... fuck me... tame me.”

He grinned, his hands briefly leaving her to free his erection and she moaned as the tip of his cock brushed her entrance, teasing her, before he finally pulled her panties down and slipped in, his own impatience winning the fight.

He let his eyes fall shut, forehead resting just over her heartbeats for a few seconds and she raised her hand, letting her fingers run through his dark hair gently, before he finally, slowly started moving, his lips brushing her shoulder briefly, before he straightened himself with a low moan and his thrusts got harder, quicker.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, invited him in, met his thrusts with her own, feeling coherent thought slip from her mind as he took her. There was nothing but his eyes staring down into hers, so vulnerable and devious at the same time, his touch, his lips and – god – the things he made her feel.

The Doctor could tell, from the way his movements got more frantic, when he was close to coming. She buried her face in his side and let her lips wander up his neck to his ears. Her voice was just a low whisper, when she said, “Come inside me, my King.”

Unable to stop himself, he did. She could feel his release inside her, running down the insides of her thighs, as he cried her name and she followed after, breathing shallow and quick as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

“You were supposed to ask for permission,” he asked after they had rested together a little, regained their breath, but his voice was still hoarse and the Doctor grinned at him.

“Oh, I know. But why should I if I can just make you loose control so easily, instead?”

She leant back with a smile as the Master pulled out of her, rolling his eyes.

“Half the time you don't even let me top and then this.”

“I played along for long enough,” she snorted. “Tomorrow's my turn, too.”

The Master rolled onto his back, pulling up the duvet cover over both of them, not saying anything, and the Doctor decided he looked definitely not as annoyed as he should.

“What?” she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion as his badly suppressed grin finally broke free.

“Nothing,” he replied, fake innocence in his voice. “Just, you know... Looks like Kristiane is the only one not getting any, after all.”