How can one being, one person in every possible timeline of every possible position in space and every possible reality, mean so much to him? When he is a Time Lord and capable of plucking stars from the heavens, or rending the fabric of any given history, given enough work and ingenuity?
But here she is.
And oh, he’s so hopelessly besotted. He is flushed and giddy and drunk with her.
My best friend. Silly reckless fanciful madwoman! Idiot, genius, lost child and hero. Oh, my girl.
“You are the source of that love. You have always been. Kiss me, Goose.”
She didn’t notice her husband had entered the room until he climbed into bed beside her. It had been a hard day, harder than most, and the Doctor knew Koschei understood that. Poor Zinnia hadn’t stopped fussing for a moment since she woke, refusing to be put down for a nap, or eat, or even play.
Secretly, she worried their infant daughter was ill, but she didn’t voice that to Koschei, not yet. The Doctor knew he’d fret far too much. No, she’d watch the baby closely, but now that Zinnia had finally cooperated and lay mostly quiet in her cot, mum was content just to take a rest, too.
“Hey,” she murmurs as the Master folds his body around hers. It’s funny to think that her overly protective, doting, wonderful husband was and still is one of the most dangerous beings in the universe. It’s hard to imagine him as anything other than the soft dad-type he’s become so content in being.
“Alright, Kosch?”
“Alright, Thete.”
That lethal beast favors his soul mate with a a look of reassuring affection. His gaze lingers on hers, his smile warm and steady–a smile none, NONE, in the cosmos but her will EVER see–and indeed curls around her, with the elasticity of pretzel dough.
He scratches the surface of her back a few times, belly against her lumbar, legs bent at the knee beneath hers, head just past her shoulder. He plays with her hair, tucks it back and, next, pets her face.
“Even though I know you will find ways to elude me, I am going to command that you give me the next shift with our little stinker. You haven’t slept for solid days, and I know you’re concerned about her crying, and trying to hide that concern from me. But you know I’m far too clever for that.”
He kisses her arm, beard tickling her skin.
“My hypothesis is colic. Just air bubbles in her tiny tum. Which may lead to the need to purchase a special enzyme-filled baby formula for the stomach upset.”
Koschei’s been quietly watching his wife’s gentle but relentless downward spiral. He espies her hands on her belly, flat but stretchmarked, and divines her sadness.
“We can do it again someday, mum,” he reminds her, in a voice so soft it’s nearly unrecognizable. “Till then, she still feels you as closely as ever. Here.”
He lays their daughter across her mother’s chest, and presses a thumb and forefinger to Zinnia’s head, and then to his Theta’s. The effervescent telepathic connection the three share is louder than ever.
“Maybe it’s only at its brightest when all three of us partake. You shouldn’t be afraid to ask me when you want to take her for a bit. She is your daughter as much as she is mine.”
He draws his laser screwdriver and dislodges the switchblade component. Fancy fingerwork boasted, he twirls it in his fingers and reaches up to shear off a strand of silver-blond hair, of moderate length.
He knots it into a small circle and slips it around the Doctor’s left ring finger.
“You said you wanted to marry him. Here he is. Marry me today.”
He watches, somewhat confused as the Master cuts a lock of hair and fiddles with it. He doesn’t understand until the moment he slips the makeshift ring onto his finger, and in that same moment, the Doctor’s jaw drops.
“I… You…”
He stumbles over his words, eyes wide, and it’s unclear if he’s elated or terrified. Or both.
But after another moment of wordless gaping, he grabs the Master by his shirt and yanks him flush against himself. The Doctor’s lips crash against his in a furious display of passion and joy beyond words.
YES. YES, YES!!
Yes, I will marry you, my best friend, my hearts, my other half, mine mine MINE!
A joyful, boisterous laugh rumbles in his chest and bursts from his lips as he pulls away from the Master and beams ear to ear.
“Let’s do it! Best friend o’ mine, let’s elope! Run off and get married! HahaHA! HAHAHA YES!”
“I take it the idea finds FAVOR with you, Hearts!” the Master thunders, as his beloved dissolves in a fit of pure elation.
He grins, smug and triumphant, blinking rapidly as he’s only barely released from the kiss.
“Golly,” he comments, almost by way of delayed reaction, eyeliner smeared and hair a disaster.
His smile, his whole demeanor, are foolishly besotted, and he who has challenged, demeaned, antagonized his lost best friend for century upon century now leans heavily into that very person, welcoming the Oncoming Storm to swallow him up in its vortex. This beast who has murdered thousands is now a boneless ragdoll at the mercy of his affianced; he smooshes his round nose into the Doctor’s and lazily kisses him back.
All but drunk on endorphins, he murmurs,
“Take me right now, to do it. Let’s do it now. C’mon, Thete, kidnap me.”
Koschei’s been standing in the doorway a good many minutes before announcing himself, simply savoring the sight of his wife and daughter, and feeling perplexingly humbled that he has done nothing, nothing, but be himself, his truest youngest self, before the mantle of his infamy, to have this life.
“Hello, mum.”
He ventures into the domestic space, then, wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and trousers, and a pair of reading glasses which he tucks into his shirt collar, as he quietly collects Zinnia from her mother.
“Hello, baby.”
He kisses her little forehead, and lifts his gaze back to his Theta.
“Smells divine. And sounds divine, too. Need help?”
“Having your happy face here is all I need,” she giggles, scrunching her nose at him. But when he takes the baby, she steals a kiss while his hands are occupied and goes back to cooking.
“Breakfast will be on in a minute. I already fed her, but if she fusses, she might need to burp.”
Domestic bliss is exactly that, but it can’t change the Doctor’s cooking skills (or lack thereof). The pancakes are on the table in a fair few minutes, with orange juice and coffee too, but they’re singed at the edges and she offers a sheepish smile.
“We can go get a better lunch somewhere if you want,” she muses, pouring herself some coffee before holding her arms out for Zinnia. “Where would you like to go, husband? It’s your day, my treat. The universe is our oyster!”
“Doctor. I would rather have your pancakes, than any other pancakes in all the wide world.”
Koschei’s grin is splitting his round face. He eases Zinnia up over his shoulder and pats her little back in soothing rhythms until she emits a tiny burp.
“It is my express desire to eat these pancakes, and take my girls to … how about an aquarium? A really big proper one, with those tunnels you walk under that have sharks swimming in glass overhead. My bosom friends, those sharks.”
Koschei’s been standing in the doorway a good many minutes before announcing himself, simply savoring the sight of his wife and daughter, and feeling perplexingly humbled that he has done nothing, nothing, but be himself, his truest youngest self, before the mantle of his infamy, to have this life.
“Hello, mum.”
He ventures into the domestic space, then, wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and trousers, and a pair of reading glasses which he tucks into his shirt collar, as he quietly collects Zinnia from her mother.
“Hello, baby.”
He kisses her little forehead, and lifts his gaze back to his Theta.
“Smells divine. And sounds divine, too. Need help?”
Icarus 