mostincrediblechange‌:

sclfmastery‌:

mostincrediblechange:

The Doctor is buried in his work, a pile of cables and wires at his feet. For that reason, he doesn’t even address the Master when he arrives. Not until, that is, he steps in front of him and disrupts his work.

“Somethin’ I can help you with?” he asks a bit stiffly. He hadn’t felt much like sleeping lately. There wasn’t much point when the other side of the bed was so often empty.

      “Oh, dar-ling.”

The Master sighs indulgently, and apologetically, awakening more fully, now, from his slumber.  

He steps out of the path of the Doctor’s labors, stands on his tiptoes and pecks the side of his neck.  He knows: he knows all the potential ways that timelines can unfurl from any given moment, and he knows that his husband can do the same, and he knows that the Doctor has seen other futures, in which they are not together, and the Master has found an earlier or later Doctor with which to nest.  He could, at this moment, tell his Theta that he has seen the same disturbing things transpire, and not always even with other versions of Koschei.  But that will not ease the gloom and irritability that have descended on his best and oldest friend.  

     “Here. Let me bring you the reason why I’ve been away so mooch.” 

He pads back out of the Console Room. 

He returns less than five minutes later, aided by a TARDIS that wishes to see Her thief in better spirits.  What he holds is a very young coral from another TARDIS entirely, and it’s mounted onto a strange chrome-like piece of unmistakably Gallifreyan tech.  Any child of the Great Houses would recognize that material: a piece of the Untempered Schism. 

     “Alright, Oscar the bloody Grouch: yes I’ve seen Sesame Street, you think I’d only watch Teletubbies? Bad for the brand to admit it, but there you go.  Now listen here:  I’ve been to Gallifrey behind your back, which was exceedingly hard to do when you were always on board with me, and don’t ask how, but I’ve stolen two things: a piece of the place where you married me, and a baby TARDIS to mark our new lives together.  Because we’ve got a kid under our wing now, albeit an adult, and she’s having a kid, and well, maybe one of these days you an’ me’ll have a kid too, you never know.  Or maybe it’ll have nothing to do with children. But it’s gonna grow oop and maybe it’ll merge with your Old Girl, or maybe it’ll carry a member of our budding family to someplace else entirely.  But it’s an investment I’ve made in us.  Us as we are now, two children of war who are healing from its scars, you big-eared idiot.”  

The Doctor only grunts in response as the Master leaves, halfway not expecting him to come back. He’s irritable and irrational for reasons that have very little to do with his husband, but as often he does, he takes his misguided emotions out on the person nearest to him. He goes back to his work for a few minutes more, almost grateful for the quiet until Koschei returns with something in his arms.

Even the TARDIS gives him a less-than-subtle mental nudge and forces him to look up. What he sees makes him take pause. He knows what it is immediately, and he’s awed into silence. 

                      “You…” 

He stammers and sets his work down on the console, turning properly to face his best friend. 

                       “You stole this? Right from under their noses?” 

The Doctor looks amused, and he approaches the Master with wide blue eyes, drinking in the sight of the infant Time Ship. It is beautiful, really, and made even more so by the thought behind it. 

His lips quirk into a half smile and he reaches out to touch the thing, his work roughened fingertips gentle. 

                        “You did this for us?” 

Theta’s expression falters a bit, but then he wraps his arms around both Koschei and their growing TARDIS, embracing them both and nuzzling into the Master’s neck.

                        “You bloody old fool,” he chuckles. “You sentimental,
                         beautiful old madman. I love you. I’ve MISSED you.
                         But I love you. Thank you for this. It’s beautiful.
                         You are beautiful… My Koschei. My beloved.”

  No, dummy, I did it for the Easter Bunny.  Of COURSE for us.  

   “M-hmmm,” Koschei hums aloud, practically incandescent with smugness.  “So the next time you decide to get all mopey and bitter about my absence, coom looking for your, what was it?”

He places the infant corals gently aside, steps up onto the Doctor’s feet with brazen entitlement, and kisses his lips between each word: “Sentimental. Beautiful. Old. Madman.”