timey_wimey | [RL con el Master - Time Vortex poisoning! :(]

The hands clapsed round the Doctor's own teacup tightened until the knuckles turned white, a ragged breath escaped him and his eyes shut in concentration, almost discomfort, as the Master delved through his thoughts.

If that's not what you wanted then why come here in the first place? Seems pretty stupid to me if that's what you're expecting me to do. Not exactly the best end to your elaborate scheme. I mean, do you want me to 'keep you'? Does everything here have to have some sort of motive behind it, or...

He sighed and his next thought was almost gentle, a counterpoint to the restess drums. Why don't you just tell me what you want for once?

The Master felt this discomfort. It urged him on, deeper and deeper. The Doctor's projected thoughts almost faded away as he watched every memory that floated to the surface. They disgusted him.

Why don't you just tell me what you want for once?

This sliced through his hunter mind and stopped him cold. His eyes flew open as the question seeped through.

What I want. What I want, what I want...

"...What I want?"

He looked up at The Doctor as if he had never considered the question before. The drums drove him inexorably forward, driving him to do what he was born to do. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?

"...I want you to play our game again," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "You didn't play fair the last time. I-" he laughed to himself quietly, somewhat embarrassed to admit, "I don't know what to do with myself when we aren't playing it."

A flash of memory arced across his mind, only for a moment, but enough to be seen - a young boy, himself, frightened and alone in the dark.

The Doctor's mouth was open in a small "o" shape, opening his eyes to look at the Master with compassion, almost empathy. He set his teacup on the bench beside him.

Not alone, not anymore. Not if you don't want to be.

"Is that really what you want?" he said quietly. "Or is it just that you can't remember anything else anymore?"

The Master's eyes grew wide, the utter desolation - the fear - of his heart welling up behind them for the first time in what must've been decades. He drew back shakily, clutching the counter so tightly it seemed all his weight was put upon it. He bristled; the emotion could be seen rippling across his form, fear into anger, anger at himself for being so weak, anger at The Doctor for taking advantage of it... anger at everything. He snarled and his teeth were chattering. Even his mind seemed to shake. He flew through his own memories, searching desperately to prove him wrong.

But there was nothing, nothing but the endless drumming of deep time. The Master and The Doctor in an eternal spiral, two primordial gods locked in combat for all time.

He grimaced and opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come, turned to sand in his throat. They screamed through his mind.

The game is all I have. And I hate you, because you never had to play.

The raw thought, the emotion, created resounding echoes in the Doctor's mind that almost left him reeling from the force behind it, even as his eyes watched the Master unfathomably. Watching as the truth hit home, hard.

I know.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair in a hopeless, almost lost gesture, his own voice playing back to him.

"Don't you see, all we've got is each other." And the game, always the game. Stay one step ahead, stay alive, keep raising the stakes, higher and higher. It's enough to command anyone's attention.

I know, he repeated, almost like an actor who'd forgotten his next lines. And believe me, I don't blame you for it.

The Master stared at him incredulously.

"...You don't blame me for it?"

Wrong answer.

His mind clamped shut, and an instant later he was slamming his fist square into the side of The Doctor's head.

The Doctor's eyes widened in shock just before the blow hit. Caught unexpectedly as he was, he stumbled back, catching himself on the edge of the bench as a grunt of pain escaped him, his head throbbing.

He rose slowly back to his feet and glared at the Master, feeling anger starting to rise in him. "Bastard," he hissed.

The Master rolled his neck. Bloody Omega, that felt good.

He gave The Doctor a cruel smile.

"Ohhh, is that right. I'm the bastard. Not you, never you, surely. You'd deny my right, you'd keep me like a
bloody pet, you'd leave me to burn alone and I'm the bastard! HA!"

He surged forward, feinting a strike.

"Hit me. C'mon, I'm the bastard right, I deserve it!"

The Doctor recoiled as if stung, his expression shifting from shocked to hurt and finally anger. Well fuck, if that was what he wanted, he was done resisting, was sick of being looked at like that.

"Fine," he growled. He surged towards the Master, clenched fist driving towards his left jaw.

He could've avoided it. The Doctor had never been much of a brawler. But he wanted it
to hit. He wanted the image to be seared into the other Time Lord's mind, to know that on this day I made you strike me.

The blow connected, whipping his neck to one side violently. He stumbled back, dazed for a moment, and shook the stars from his vision.

"...Heh."

He hunched down and ran at The Doctor, barreling into his chest.

He felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and resentment when the blow hit, because he knew that the Master could have avoided that, knew that really he was being played like a puppet, but at this moment? He was past caring.

As the Master ran at him he was once again knocked off his feet, the air leaving his lungs in one big oof as he fell to the floor and landed hard. Wincing, he got back to his feet, breathing heavily and lunging once again for the other Time Lord.

He was so past caring.

The Master was ready for him. He brought his arms back and leaned into the blow, wrapping his right arm around The Doctor's neck. But the other Time Lord was more forceful than he expected - his footing failed and he was forced backwards, slamming into the counter. He shouted in pain but held on tenaciously, squeezing The Doctor's neck as hard as he could muster without completely slipping to the floor.

He was suddenly aware of the frantic beating of their hearts, their gasping breath, grinding teeth and pain and thoughts...

His head swam with perverse glee. This is what he wanted.

The Doctor gasped in pain as the Master squeezed his neck and frantically scrabbled for purchase, fighting to free himself from the grip, which while not as life threatening as it would be for a human, was still decidedly painful.

"Let. Go."

As his hands and arms indiscriminately beat both the Master and the air around them, a stray blow caught the cooling and forgotten teacups, sending both them and their contents spiraling down over the fighting pair, one cup smashing on the floor.

The sound of the smash seemed to bring him to his senses. He stopped struggling and stayed still for an instant. Then the absurdity of the situation hit home.

He started laughing; quietly at first, but growing louder, unable to keep the laughter in despite his current position.

The Master flinched when the lukewarm tea hit, splashing his face and seeping into the side of his suit. He had been so absorbed in their struggle that for a good three seconds he was completely baffled by what had just happened. He glanced down to see the broken cup, and realized he was fighting The Doctor in a fucking kitchenette.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight swirling in his brain, or just feeling so drained and delirious from everything... but he began to laugh too. He loosened his grip from around the other Time Lord's neck and slid to the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

When the Master's arm vanished, so apparently did the Doctor's ability to hold himself up. He collapsed on the floor by the Master's side, clutching the counter and shaking uncontrollably as the laughter took him. The tea was everywhere; the side of the counter, the floor, even in the Doctor's hair. His converse were going to be ruined, he realised dimly, and that just set him off again into more peals of laughter.

The Master opened his jacket, and sure enough, his perfectly white shirt had been stained a lovely brown. Under normal circumstances he might've been angry, but he couldn't seem to keep it together long enough. It occured to him that their arses were getting rather wet from the tea on the floor as well. He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

He looked over at The Doctor and couldn't resist mussing his hair. He slicked it back, laughing at the way it fell at such a wonky angle.

Hearing the other Time Lord's laughter just seem to prolong his own even further. He gasped for breath shakily, tears of mirth beginning to run down his face.

"O -oi, mind the hair," he said weakly in between laughs.

He got a wicked glint in his eye at this. He attacked The Doctor's hair with both hands, ruffling it back and forth.

"Grr, your hair's rubbish!" he growled playfully, laughing all the while.

The Doctor feebly grabbed the Master's wrists in a vain attempt to stop the assault on his hair. "Get off!" he sniggered. "I like my hair as it is, ta!"

He continued laughing, giving up the attempt to save his hair.

The Master shooed his hands away. "Nonono, wait-"

He brought The Doctor's hair forward into one forward-pointing spike. He snorted and covered his mouth, trying to stifle giggles.

"You - hee, you l-look like - ahaha, you look like a Baanjxx!"

He began laughing so hard he almost fell onto the other Time Lord.

"Wha - no. No, no, no, I don't! D - definitely not. J -just no!" He clasped both hands to his head, trying to flatten the spike down, but only succeeding in making it look more ridiculous.

The laughing fit which had just about subsided started afresh at the Master's laughter. His sides were starting to hurt. As the Master almost collapsed on him he feebly swiped at him.

"Oi, watch it!" he gasped, before falling sideways himself, clutching his stomach in laughter.

The Master swatted at the other man's side.

"Don't lie down, git! You'll get all wet! Got a soggy arse as it is from all this mess..."

He chuckled and stood up slowly, offering a hand to help The Doctor up.

"Ah, come on. On your feet, Doctor Baanjxx, before we both catch damp!"

He chuckled feebly. "Ohhh, I'm never gonna get this place cleaned up," he said decidedly, before taking the hand offered to him and grinning as he stood up.

He wasn't really sure what spurred him to do it, a left over high, a fit of spontaneity or whatever, but in a moment he had pulled the Master into a hug, still stifling a few left over giggles.

The Master sort of froze for a moment - he didn't pull away, didn't reciprocate, just... stood there, and let The Doctor hug him. He had forgotten he was supposed to be angry with him. But how could he forget something so central to the core of his being? It was all about hating him, wasn't it?

Slowly, he rested his head on the other Time Lord's shoulder and put his arms around him. It felt... nice, actually. He might vehemently deny it tomorrow, but right now...

The Doctor feared the worst when the other Time Lord froze in his arms, suddenly remembering that only a few moments ago they'd been fighting tooth and nail. Not best form really, hugging someone who was probably still mad at you. But...

When the Master's arms came up around him, he blinked a little in surprise before sighing in relief, a bemused smile on his face.

"It's been ages since I've laughed like that," he said eventually, a small smile still in place.

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