A/N: A nice Donna/Master fic – Post EoT AU, with the Master (now sane) on the TARDIS along with a perfectly human Donna. Donna/Master is a pairing of my own creation, and will probably never become canon, but I want to write it anyway – it's been in my head since EoT which was almost 2 years ago! The Doctor will only be playing some small parts in this, methinks… but he'll still be in it, considering it's set on his TARDIS. Oh, and forgot to mention, it's the Tenth Doctor and not the Eleventh.

This first chapter is ultimately dedicated to InvaderJes11 of DeviantART, a person who became interested in this pairing when I revealed it in a deviation, and then spurred me on to finish this chapter :D (If you're reading and you have an account here, please review! I'm very sorry about the lateness of this *apologetic face*)

Chapter One - Breakfast

The Master wasn't happy being safe and sane. He cared about things that didn't concern him, namely one redhead temp and her relationship with his old best friend – you could see from a mile off that it was purely platonic, but that didn't mean the Master didn't care for the woman, quite the contrary.

When the Doctor (or in fact any person) took the last of the milk, he would pour his dry cereal over the Doctor's head and walk out of the room. When Donna took the last of the milk, he just made himself some toast instead. Was it just because she was a woman, the more fragile of her species? No, there was more to it than that. Of course, when he took the last of the marmalade for his toast, the Doctor didn't react in the same way the Master did if he'd taken the milk; he'd simply be in a mood all day.

Anyway, enough about breakfast… the Master found himself admiring Donna's body one day when she chose to wear a dress, but he quickly shook himself out of it. Another day, he found himself gaping at her in a swimsuit, and he was not so quick to shake himself out of this.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

He gulped. Had she noticed him looking?

"Eyes up here, sunshine." she said sternly, but wait – was she smiling? She was enjoying this!

"You're enjoying this!" he snapped, red-faced.

"Yeah, and I think you were enjoying my body too much, mate."

He cringed. She'd noticed him looking.

"Oh, don't look so embarrassed; I find it quite flattering to be oggled at my age."

"I wasn't oggling you!"

"S'not what your little man is saying." she said, gesturing to his crotch.

He looked down and – dammit, his penis sure chose the right time to have a mind of its own!

He hurriedly ran into the TARDIS, almost crashing into the Doctor who was on his way out, "What's up with him?"

"I think he fancies me – if his crotch tent was anything to go by."

Quick, think un-arousing thoughts…

"Hey, are you alright in there?"

Dammit, she's behind the door!

"Err, yeah, just be out in a minute or two!" he looked down at his crotch, which was still stimulated by the mere thought of her. He knew masturbation was the only option, and wrapped his hand around his member through the thin layering of his swimming trunks – having her outside was better than not having her at all, and he could be quiet.

He moaned. He really couldn't be quiet.

He leapt off the bed, stalked to the door and opened it to see Donna still standing there in her swimsuit – soaking wet.

"It's the Doctor's fault – he pulled me in before I could find you."

He felt an unbidden rage bubbling up inside at the Doctor, but he tried to calm himself. What use was a quarrel over a bit of fun? "You should dry off."

"I would if I could find the bathroom – seems to be constantly moving where I can't find it."

He heard the TARDIS chuckle in his head, and unleashed his rage on it, "Why must you bring us together when you know it isn't what I want?"

"What you want and what you need are two completely different things. I provide you what you need." she said cheerfully, and he could sense her smiling – or the TARDIS equivalent of a smile.

"What I need is for Donna to be as far away from me as possible right now." he snapped.

"What both of you need is to be together – you are two sides of the same coin." she said, "Don't become ignorant to what you need." and he felt the psychic link between himself and the TARDIS sever abruptly.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked Donna, a little more sternly than he would have liked.

"Come to see if you do fancy me." she replied sheepishly, "And also the whole 'can't find a bathroom' thing…"

He had never been aroused by a human, not ever fully – his mind always stole itself away at such times, only to reappear when he'd 'done the deed'. But Donna was different; every part of him latched onto her like his being depended on it, including his rather fogged mind. He had never fallen in love before – and if he had it was purely because of the drums influence. Now he felt like a schoolboy at the academy again as white-hot stimuli flooded his veins, and he looked upon the vision before him.

There was no denying it; he needed Donna like nothing else, but he still couldn't face the rejection. So he said, "I could ask the same of you; you wouldn't be asking if you didn't feel that way." despite his attempts at nonchalance, his still-hard cock gave him away.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and it didn't help to get rid of his erection. Then it all became a gorgeous blur – her lips on his and her hand making its way south. He ran his fingers through her wet hair, finding it a delicious turn-on for both of them. To think, he'd been thinking of having a wank when the object of his desires was ready and willing for something much better!

She ground herself against him, and he lost control. He could smell her scent; rare and overpowering as he threw her onto the bed, her sodden hair hitting the pillow with a muffled splat. "Donna, I don't fancy you…"

"You've got a great way of showing it."

"No, let me finish; I don't fancy you, I love you." he kissed her again, hoping she'd get the message.

He heard the door close, but it couldn't be– "You're not the only one who know how to nick it." she said, holding up the sonic screwdriver for him to see. He silently thanked the TARDIS for closing the door so she could lock it, and asked the ship to soundproof the walls.

A/N: Just a quick A/N; when I was writing the TARDIS' dialogue it felt strangely like I was writing Mama Odie from Princess and the Frog. That reference would only make sense if you'd seen that movie beforehand…

"Donna?" he'd been walking in the TARDIS for hours; Donna had said she'd be back after she talked to the Master, "You know, our beach trip's gone to plot now…"

After a while he felt the TARDIS' presence inside his head, "I can't seem to find her – would you have something to do with this?"

"I am sorry, my pilot, they cannot be disturbed at this time."

The Doctor paused, "They can't still be talking…"

"They are not." and a lightbulb finally went on in the Doctor's head as he realized what the TARDIS' words implied.

"I am your pilot; I order you to take me to them." he said, using his best in-head authoritarian voice.

"I do not think that is wise–"

"TARDIS, activate subroutine Theta White Dash Nine – locating of all companions with pilot."

He eventually found them, but the door was locked, and he couldn't find his sonic screwdriver, "Donna, are you in there?" he said, knocking first – she'd nearly knocked him first when he didn't.

He heard a curious ruffling from behind the door, and then it opened and Donna poked her head through the gap, "Do you mind? I'm getting lucky in here."


"Your friend, you idiot! Who else would I be with? It's only us three in this TARDIS." she rolled her eyes, "Look, he treats me nice, he's great in bed, what's not to like?"

"What's not to like is my best friend and my…old best friend… cavorting while we're supposed to be on the seaside."

"Oh cavorting, you are old aren't you Doctor? Better watch you don't break your back." was Donna's snide reply.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed, "You know what? You two are perfectly matched, feel free to shag all you like. I'll be in the library – and I won't come knocking again."

"Yeah, do us all a favour!" was the Master's only words from atop the bed, and Donna closed the door on the Doctor.

"Why does he have to be such a spoilsport?" Donna whined, walking back to him and falling upon the sheets.

"He's just worried for you; you should be pleased, it's quite endearing."

"Annoying more like. Weren't you annoyed when he knocked on our door?"

"I had the TARDIS to warn me." the Master smirked.

"Oh, bully for you, but I haven't got that constant voice in my head – unless you count my conscience."

"I didn't think I still had one of those until the Doctor freed me. I suppose, I'm in debt to him, in a way." he chuckled dryly, "He has been the one constant in my life that has been the voice of sanity, and now there is you. I feel like I couldn't have one without the other. I need friendship and love to help me find out who I am without the drums, and there can only be one person each for those things."

"I know who you are," Donna said, moving into a sitting position in front of him, "I know you're a good man at heart, but with a foul temper that you've had none of your 900 years to learn to control. You value love and friendship, that much is certain, but you can't multitask with your emotions like so many of us can, you were only a child when you were taken over and your mind never had a chance to develop properly to cope with all this information. You are half a person, in a sense, and I hope I can be your other half, but you need to learn to let people in – I'm sure the Doctor's a lost cause in that respect, but your own life is just beginning and you have a chance to learn these things and accept me, even accept him."

"Are you saying I am a child and am to be your project?"

"I don't take it lightly. Do you think I'll enjoy babysitting you? If you behave yourself, you'll be rewarded, and you have to know that and you'll get along fine." she ruffled his hair, much to his chagrin.

"Then you must know this; I want us to be married. I won't just have you as my lover, I must have you as my wife." he explained, quite serious.

"You know the implications of what you're saying? I am a widower – sort of."

"Yes, the Doctor did try to warn me off. Lance got eaten by infant Racnoss in the end, didn't he? Now, I'm not stupid enough to get myself into a similar predicament, and I'm not stupid enough to treat you so badly as he did. I could only cherish you while he stepped all over you when you weren't to know."

"Oh – there's too much of the word 'you' in that sentence, you're giving me headache…"

"Would you like me to kiss it better?"

"Oh, that's the best offer I've had all day – besides an offer of a shower, of course."

"Together?" he grinned.

"Is there any better method? But maybe a proper shower afterwards."

"Should we hope to tide our friend over, I think bourbons and a lifetime supply of marmalade should suffice."

"You read my mind; do you have a lifetime supply of marmalade?"

"…I have bourbons, they may keep him quiet for a week or so. If we are to shut him up for good, we'll have to tell him about our eventual nuptials."

"Do we? If anything, it'll make him chatty for weeks – but I suppose we have to tell him as we live on his ship."

"Tell me what?" the Doctor had walked into the kitchen.

"Ah, Doctor, nice to see you awake. Coffee?"

"Not my cup of tea; tea, thanks. Is it anything I should be privy to, maybe you're moving in together? That activity would be pretty redundant seeing as you already live together."

"We're getting married – and you can stop with the petulant child routine, you and I are both far too old for that." the Master sternly advised.

"I'll stop with the 'petulant child routine' when I'm best man."

"Consider the position granted – you are our best friend, after all. I trust your speech won't be too scathing?"

"I can't promise anything. I can promise, however, that if an opportunity arises wherein Wilf can't walk Donna down the aisle, I'll be happy to fill in for him."

"I'd expect nothing less of you, Doctor. You can't help but be helpful."

A/N: I really want to carry on, but I feel I've hit a wall. Now, the way I write a semi-sane Master intrigues me – I write him to be a little bit sane, and at the same time a little bit mad. He brings out the literary genius in me whilst giving me an output for my own madness, which I quite happily contain until such times as this. He is wise, cool-headed, but can show rage if he truly feels it and will go mad at the Doctor for no reason. Like the breakfast thing – I don't know where that came from, I may have started writing that bit after eating breakfast myself. The Doctor sparks intense rage inside him, and yet secretly he hates himself for using the Doctor as a metaphorical humanoid punchbag and doesn't know why he does it. It could be an after-affect of the drums, it could just be how their relationship has always been – the Master goes ape-shit on him and the Doctor just takes it, whilst trying to help him as best he can. I know, it's a pretty fucked up way of looking at it, but I've been analysing this for too long and I've lost my train of thought on the matter. Just enjoy this chapter and hope that I write more – I'm not really expecting myself to, but I've had this pairing in my head for too long that it prefers freedom to the solitary alternative.

I meant to post this last night, but my brother started on Wii Fit Plus and I got heavily distracted… Yeah, I should just shut up now. Tell me what you think! But please don't flame, I want only constructive criticism and/or fair praise. And don't get bitchy about the chosen pairing, it's an experiment. If I do decide to continue it, it will either carry on from here or will evolve into a series of oneshots, pertaining to nothing in particular but maybe having themes.