Koschei clasps Jack by the face, a palm on each cheek, and chuckles at his perpetual clean-shavenness.
“Lemme just remind you, I’ve seen our ‘end,’ if end is the right word for it, and I know we are eternal, you and me.”
The word means so much more to his husband, and he knows it, and he applies it to the pressure point with the accuracy of aim that can be either devastating or infinitely comforting. It’s his particular talent.
“I will dance with you forever, Sam McCoy.”
“I thought I was supposed to be romancing you,” he grins. Oh yes, that word means everything to Jack, and the fact that he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is no end to them is the most amazing feeling he can imagine.
His hands rest on Koschei’s hips, pulling them ever closer together. He leans down, pressing their foreheads together, and closes his eyes. “I’ll romance the pants right off you,” he smirks before reaching down and smacking his husband’s backside. “Go get dressed, I have an idea.”
Koschei sniffs, imperious and self-assured.
“The fact that you’re romancing me has very little to do with my own degree of effort, my love,” he scolds. “I get to lavish you with praise and affection because just like me, you’re a vain tart.”
He’s snuggled and then slapped on the ass, and that elicits a pleased purr.
“Well okay, since you do know what I like.”
Despite the arrogant bravado, the look he offers his husband is so softly fond.
Then he flounces out, and returns in one of his finest black suits, with a flare of red in the scarf, perfect for the chill of autumn.
Koschei draws his hands up over his face, and drags them down his cheeks, all the way past his stubbled jaw, and down his long slender neck.
“I hate. Leaving something unfinished,” he retorts crossly: crossly mostly because he knows his husband is right.
He drags himself to his feet and shoves his face into Jack’s chest.
“ … fine.”
Jack chuckles and wraps his arms around his husband, kissing the top of his head. “I know, but you’re not leaving it unfinished, you’re taking a strategic break in order to finish it with more style tomorrow.”
He bends down then and swoops him up into his arms. “Besides, it can’t be anything too important, my birthday isn’t for another 6 months.”
Koschei snorts, a long low sound of indulgent amusement. He tucks in his legs and burrows against his husband’s chest still closer, enjoying the steadfast thrum of his heartbeat. His eyes are closed, and he is, faintly, smiling.
Once placed down on the bed, he clings tighter, and hoards all the blankets around himself in an impenetrable nest.
Despite his “annoyance,” he wastes no time in hurrying over to his husband’s open arms, sprawling over him with his head in Koschei’s lap, braiding their fingers together.
“Mmmm is all of that an option?” he says, smiling up at him adoringly. “I don’t know, I kinda want another girl. But Sammy might pitch a fit if someone tries to steal her throne. Then again, she might be absolutely enamoured with a little mini-me. Definitely going to need to expand the nursery. And yes, new clothes for me. Probably my favourite part, they’ll get their own section in my closet you made me.”
Koschei leans down and squishes his husband’s face between his palms, with a an enthusiastic growl.
“Whyever would anything not be an option? YOU’RE the one doing the difficult work here.”
He sits back upright, petting Jack’s hair in even rhythms.
“Our daughter will adapt as soon as she realizes her little brother or sister is a minion she can send on errands and quests on her behest. Remember, she IS the one who takes after ME.”
Jack laughs out loud, suddenly imagining Sammy ordering around her younger sibling whilst she lounges on a small stuffed chair, every bit the princess she already acts. “Alright, good point. That’s the only reason you want kids, huh? Someone to do your bidding and aid you in all your schemes?”
He’s TEASING, Koschei.
Despite the humor in the words, the Master has long doubted his prowess as a parent, and the jibe hits home. He tightens in Jack’s arms, with an airily surly look.
“Why, because my reputation speaks for itself?”
It’s rare, so very rare, that their frequent mutual jostling taps a real nerve, because both are ever so certain of the other’s benign intentions; trust makes real hurt difficult to achieve. The trouble with this occasion, however, is that Koschei believes Jack isn’t trying to wound him: he’s just speaking from the heart.
“I don’t …really scheme anymore, you know that …”
Oh, it’s a weak riposte. And he knows it. And the embarrassment makes him angrier still. He worms his way loose. But even now he’s grown enough not to make some infinitely cruel and desperate lash-out about Jack’s grandson.
“Well OB-viously, darling, we hold them over the top of each pumpkin while they pull out the goo, which is wonderfully disgusting, and then we sit them on workstools for the rest, and we finish what they can’t when they get too fatigued! We’re going for a festive high-point here!”
Koschei clasps Jack by the face, a palm on each cheek, and chuckles at his perpetual clean-shavenness.
“Lemme just remind you, I’ve seen our ‘end,’ if end is the right word for it, and I know we are eternal, you and me.”
The word means so much more to his husband, and he knows it, and he applies it to the pressure point with the accuracy of aim that can be either devastating or infinitely comforting. It’s his particular talent.
“You know, sometimes, I think that’s why they left me behind on that game station. Figured I’d be fine in the end, I’d figure a way out of there one way or another. I mean, sure, he was regenerating, I get that. But then nothing after that? Yeah, I was never gonna need them. Not like I need you.”
He’d be marinating in bitterness, save for the way Jack chose to conclude. As is, Koschei can’t help but exude warm affection. He reaches out to caress Jack’s ever-soft cheek, familiar and gentle.
“Yeah,” is all he says: happy to confirm to whom he belongs.
Jack takes that hand that reaches for him, turning it palm up to kiss it and pulls him close. “Unsure on the ‘saviour’ part, but that deep, existential need? Yeah, that’s got you written all over it. So come here, hubby, and give us kiss.”
“Well I’m sorry, but I DO believe you’ll have to apply for a husbandly snog.”
Koschei pulls coquettishly away from Jack, stands and saunters to the other end of his TARDIS.
“We accept submissions to the slotbox at the front of the vehicle, or, if you prefer an expedited process, you may woo the recipient directly.”
Koschei looks up from his favorite lounging spot, naked, on Jack’s chest, leeching his warmth like a cat does a spot of sun, and the dictionary definition of smug.
“Flattery may get you everywhere but don’t expect me to want to move anywhere anytime soon, regardless.”
Jack laughs, hard enough to shuffle his husband. “Actually, I’m more concerned about the Time Lord-shaped tan line, but hey, as long as you’re comfortable, right?”
“Well alright, you bounder, turn over onto your stomach and I’ll make sure both sides match.”
Icarus 