Loz (lozenger8) wrote,
Loz
lozenger8

Five Times The Doctor Almost Mentioned The Master to his Other Companions...

Title: Five Times The Doctor Almost Mentioned The Master to his Other Companions
(In an "I really miss him" kind of way.)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,558 words.
Notes: Hints of Doctor/Donna, Doctor/Master. Also, cracky. And for emmarrrrr.



1. On the telephone with Donna.

"Doctor, why the pause?"

"Was that a pause? I thought it was an extended punctuation mark."

"It was definitely a pause. Are you doing something?"

"Me? No. No! Just fiddling about with the TARDIS console, you know how it is. Push a button here, press a lever there."

"You sound different."

"Do I?"

"All high and squeaky like you've just won the lottery or seen Britt Eklund naked."

"Oh, that? Not that interesting. Happened to me twice, that."

"Which one?"

"The... naked... one."

"You still sound distressed, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm dandy. I'm more than dandy. I'm rand... I'm magnificent!"

"So what was with the silence?"

"Well, it was just ---"

"What?"

"I was remembering another telephone conversation I've had."

"Why?"

"You said 'run'."

"What in God's name has that got to do with anything? We say 'run' all the time. Usually it's a command. I don't see why 'run' is all that special."

"It reminded me, that's all. And I... it distracted me."

"I think this is quite possibly the least wordy I've ever heard you. And that's saying something."

"I've been more wordless than this. Or should that be less full of words? I can never get the right one. Funny old business the English language, isn't it? Sometimes I think everything would have been much easier if you'd all just stuck to Latin. But anyway, back to the point --- yes, I've definitely been more quiet than this."

"Really? When?"

"... dunking mimewop..."

"Sorry? What? It sounded a lot like you just mumbled 'sucking timecock'."

"I have to go."

"Come, more like."

2. Tirrellian 5 - also known by locals as "The Disco Planet".

"Bit flamboyant, isn't it?" Donna asked, looking around at the gyrating bodies.

"Would you like to dance?"

"You dance?"

"Sometimes, when the mood takes me."

The Doctor took Donna by the hand and led her onto the floor. He held her around the waist, dipped her low, span them both around.

"You're quite the mover, who taught you?"

The Doctor was instantly cagey. "What makes you think there has to be a who? I've been around for centuries, Donna, I've seen all kinds of dancing. Jigs and ballet and the Lindy Hop. Not to mention the famous Malllaaxian tribe of Persei 8. All they ever did was dance. Sometimes when they were sleeping."

Donna frowned. "Okay, no need to get your converses in a kink, I was just asking."

The Doctor licked his lips. "Anyway, even if someone did teach me, that doesn't mean anything does it? I mean, it's not like someone teaching you how to dance is all that... suggestive, is it?"

Donna kept her face straight. "Suggestive of what?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

The Doctor got into a groove of lunging forward and nestling one of his thighs between Donna's, then retreating and wiggling his arse. Donna appreciated it quite a lot. He may be a stick-figure of a bloke with an ego the size of Cruithne, but he was also a bloke showering her with attention and she could never get too much of that.

Suddenly a song Donna vaguely recognised came on. "This is an Earthean classic," someone yelled behind them. "Quick, time for the ritual clothes-shedding."

Donna was about to say, "that's enough for us, then," when she realised the Doctor was removing his coat, a glazed look in his eye.

"Doctor? What are you doing?"

"You heard what the man said. Ritual clothes-shedding! You know me. Hold a lot of stock by the powers of ritual, I do."

"Well, you certainly hold a lot of stock, if that throbbing is anything to go by."

3. Standing on the edge of a cliff with Martha and Donna.

"He's been really strange lately," Donna said quietly, staring at the back of the Doctor's head and leaning in towards Martha. "Stranger than usual, I mean. Jordan strange. Or Bill Oddie strange."

"Bill Oddie's not strange, he's lovely."

"No he's not, he's a nasty, rambling old perve."

"Maybe he's lonely?" Martha asked, following Donna's line of sight. "Not Oddie. The Doctor."

"Thanks a lot."

Martha touched Donna's arm consolingly. "Sorry, didn't mean to make it sound like that. I mean because of the Master. I think it's been about a year since he went and got himself shot. A year in some form anyway. You never can really know when you've travelled with the Doctor, have you noticed?"

"The Master? That Harold Saxon bloke, yeah? Dead sexy, but with dead eyes."

"Yeah. Bit of a psychopathic genocidal creep intent on mindfuckery, but he had a lovely smile."

Donna's face stretched into contemplation, her lower lip curving down. "Were they... ? You know."

"The Master kept the Doctor in a cage and made him eat out of a dog bowl."

"So, yes."

The Doctor gave a large sigh. "I can hear you, you know. Least you could've done is lower your voices or something. Whisper. That's a nice thing to do, whispering. Sometimes cruel, of course, and often confusing, but it would have been better than making me listen to you talk about me as if I'm some sort of... I don't know what I'd call it."

"Masochistic freak?" Donna provided helpfully.

"Mmm."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Draw a sketch?"

"No."

"Write a song?"

"Already have. It'll reach number seven in the charts for six weeks, before slipping to twenty-fourth place. A girl called Gillian will lose her virginity to it and declare it her favourite song of all time."

Martha nodded. "You're looking into the future again. Seeing the patterns of time."

"No, I'm making it up."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Now, are you jumping, or not?"

The Doctor tutted. "I was never going to jump, I just like to feel the wind ruffle through my hair."

"I guess that sort of explains why you decided to strip?"

4. Handcuffed to a radiator, as large, floating, green blobs take over London.

The Doctor was staring into the distance, looking sad. Donna rolled her eyes. She wanted to tell him to get over it. Instead, she said, "I think the word 'bottom' is much like 'underpants', it's universally funny, and works every time, no matter how often you hear it."

"He loved bottoms," the Doctor sighed. "I distinctly remember him saying so."

"Yeah, I agree. I love a good 'bottom', now and then," Jack said. He pulled on his handcuffs with little success and turned to stare at Donna's chest instead. "But not just 'bottom', though. There are lots of other words that have this effect. Like 'moist'. I love 'moist'."

"My eyes are up here, thank you very much," Donna barked. Jack's gaze snapped to her face and he grinned a wicked grin.

"He liked moist as well," the Doctor continued, talking to himself.

"Wimple, that's a funny word," Donna interjected.

"Damn sexy too. Man, what're you doing to me, Miss Noble? I don't think you quite live up to your name."

"He'd have loved this," the Doctor moaned, gazing out the window as a giant green blob went floating by. "He loved things in the sky and me being tied up."

"You're right, Doctor," a voice from the doorway said. "Moist bottoms and you handcuffed to a radiator. My, my, this is my lucky day."

Jack almost leapt to his feet, but didn't, because there wasn't enough leeway with the cuffs. "Master? I thought you were dead?"

"Is this him?" Donna exclaimed. "I only ever saw him on TV. They don't half do some magic with cameras these days, do they?"

The Master stepped forward slowly, like a predatory cat. "Do you know another funny word, Doctor? Lard. And I happen to have some right here..."

5. In the TARDIS, on a mission through time and space.

"Oh, you're out of there, are you?" Donna asked, "I was beginning to think I'd never see you again. I've already seen more of you than I've ever actually cared to, but still, it's quite nice seeing your face once more."

"Donna! I need some oil. Do you have some, by any chance?"

"Oil? Are there some rusty cogs? Squeaky hinges?"

"In a manner of sorts, yes."

"I... this isn't for what I think it's for is it?" Donna tapped her foot against the ground, her arms crossed.

"Probably not, no."

"Really?"

"It depends how vivid your imagination can get. Or how loud I can get. Either/or, you know."

"No. I don't have any oil."

"Shame. I, um... well... I'd tell you all about it, but you mightn't want to know."

Donna shook her head. "Probably not."

"I would," Jack piped up, fiddling with a console.

"Me too," Martha agreed, typing into her laptop. "I mean, if you're gonna betray us like this, we might as well get to hear all the juicy details."

"My juice is not up for discussion, sorry about that. But you lot enjoy yourselves out here, with your own juices." The Doctor stepped to the side. "I have to be getting back, can't spend too much time away..."

"... from sucking timecock?" Donna interrupted.

"...from repairs," the Doctor concluded.

And with that, he left --- a gigantic grin spread across his face, and a giant spanner in his hand.

Tags: dw, rated pg-13, writing
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