Important Author's Notes: This is my fic for Day Three of Asexuality Awareness Week, 2011. If you don't know what asexuality is, please visit the AVEN website (Asexual Visibility and Education Network) and click on the overview for more information!
It is also worth noting that this is not beta'd. It's very rough. The characterizations are very much off. Ten feels kind of Three-ish at the very end, and SimmMaster slips towards Old Who in his dialogue, I think. I dunno. I didn't have time to get this beta'd though. Please also read the backstory bit behind this snippet, else it won't make much sense!
Title: Cocoa, Cuddles, and Coyotes
Word Count: 1143
Warnings: No sex, but there is use of sexual innuendo. It's not my fault. It kind of wrote itself, and I was like REALLY, SELF? REALLY? There is also kissing and cuddling.
Summary: In which the Doctor and Master cuddle on the couch with cocoa and compare one another to cartoon characters.
Backstory in Brief: This particular scene is from near the end of an AU that's been floating around in my head in which, during LoTL, the Master tries to activate the Vortex Manipulator again after the Paradox Machine is disabled (but before Jack catches him). The Doctor, naturally, tries to stop him and, naturally, fails so spectacularly that the two of them wind up stranded out in the boonies of time and space with the Vortex Manipulator broken. I haven't though it out much more than "the Doctor and Master's Epic Hitchhiking Adventures Across the Universe", but at this point they're (finally) in an established relationship. Also, I wanted fluff, so they get along unrealistically well. I unno, these two need more fluff, so I don't feel too bad about that.
Cocoa, Cuddles, and Coyotes
"You know," the Doctor muses, "if we take the television set apart, we might be able to fix the Vortex Manipulator."
The Master, immobilized beneath blankets and within the tangle of the Doctor's lanky limbs, manages to tilt his head up and glare murderously at him. "Looney Tunes are on," he says, slowly as though the Doctor must have somehow missed this despite the fact that they're currently both curled up on a couch together watching said children's program.
"Well, not now, obviously," the Doctor hastens to add. "I meant later. When we're both ready to leave. Which is not yet, because this is comfortable and did that spaceship really just stop falling because it ran out of gas?"
The Master rolls his eyes and looks back at the television. "Yep."
They stare at the screen, watching as the current short ends and the opening theme announces the start of the next with a loud sproing and blaring of trumpets. "That's hilarious," the Doctor says finally.
The Master looks up again, and his grin is as wild and mad as the Doctor's is goofy and absurd. "Isn't it just? The things your apes think of." He glances back at the screen and his eyes widen with glee. "OH! It's the coyote!"
"You like Wiley Coyote?" The Doctor stares down at him with surprise.
"Of course I do."
The Doctor frowns. "But…nothing ever works out well for him. And his plans are…"
"Inspired, Doctor," the Master cuts in smoothly. "The word you want is inspired. Besides, it's hardly his fault that the laws of physics always betray him and never the bird."
They watch for a little while longer in silence, until Wiley emerges as an accordion from beneath a very large boulder at the base of a very high cliff. The Doctor winces. "Oh, that was hardly fair."
The Master snorts. "You? Sympathizing with the coyote?"
"How is that surprising?" The Doctor asks, and raises an eyebrow. He disentangles his right arm so that he can reach the mug of cocoa on the table in front of them. The Master jabs a sharp elbow into his side, and the Doctor retrieves the Master's mug as well. The other Time Lord snatches it from his fingers.
"You're welcome," the Doctor says wryly.
"Mmph." The Master's undoubtedly scathing reply is drowned within the mug's steaming contents. The Doctor watches him, amused. A frothy smudge of chocolate clings to the Master's upper lip after the mug is lowered, and in staring at it, the Doctor nearly misses his response. "You're like the roadrunner," he says.
The Doctor blinks. "What?"
"You. The roadrunner. You zip around, heedless to the destruction you leave in your wake save to run away from it, and the rules don't ever seem to apply to you."
The Doctor stares at him, and then the connection clicks. "Ah, I see. And you're like the coyote. Clever, bent on dominance of some kind, always trying to trap me with elaborate plots." He smiles fondly. "And no matter what happens, you always get back up and try again."
The Master doesn't respond. His fingers curl with a tighter grip around his mug, though, and he watches the screen with his eyes not quite following the crisp, sunbright colors.
"I always liked that about you," the Doctor continues, still watching the man curled against him. The Master gives up all pretense of paying attention to the show, and tilts his head up as he listens. "Your determination, that is. You've never given up, even after everything that's happened between us. Well, that and your brilliance of course. Can't help but admire that."
Like a cat being stroked, the Master stretches beneath the blankets and somehow snuggles in closer between the Doctor's arms to rest against his chest, his head pillowed on the Doctor's collarbone. "Glad you finally noticed."
The Doctor laughs, and then immediately regrets doing so when he feels the Master tense in response. Oh, that won't do, he thinks, and, holding the Master against him with his right arm, leans forward to deposit the mug in his left back on the table. "I've always noticed," he says when he settles back against the couch, left hand joining the right in encircling the Master. He squeezes gently and the tension drains away, leaving the Master boneless and content once more. "I've come to count on it. A cosmos without you—"
"—scarcely bears thinking about," the Master finishes for him. "It's nice that you can finally admit that." He tilts his head back until his nose nuzzles the Doctor's jaw. "I believe I've succeeded where the coyote failed."
"I did catch you, after all."
"Oh, true. And I've stopped running, come to think of it. Though I do hope you aren't planning to eat me."
The Master jerks slightly, mouth rounding into a surprised 'o'. He blinks, and then the Doctor feels him begin to shake with suppressed laughter. "Cheeky. I like this current regeneration of yours, Doctor. But no, neither of us are really interested in either connotation of eating one another, are we?"
The Doctor grins and dips his head down to press a light kiss to the Master's temple. "True, we're not. I'm rather fond of this, though."
"What, looney tunes?" The Doctor can hear the Master's smirk in his voice.
"Well, that too, although I have to say I'm not really a fan of the rabbit. Now, Marvin, he reminds me of—"
The Master elbows him in the stomach. Hard.
"All right, all right! Yes, I meant cuddling you with blankets and cocoa in a nice, warm cabin during a blizzard. Well," the Doctor amends again, before the Master decides to sulk, "actually, just cuddling you."
The Master doesn't respond save to reposition himself more comfortably in the Doctor's arms, cocoa long forgotten between his fingers and his mind relaxed and humming with contentment.
"You finished with that?" the Doctor asks after a few more minutes of cartoons.
The Doctor nudges one hand towards the Master's mug.
"Oh. Yes." The Doctor loosens his grip long enough for the Master to lean forward and clink his mug down on the table next to the Doctor's. The Doctor catches him before he can quite settle back and turns him gently around. The Master blinks at him and frowns. "What?"
"You missed a spot."
Before the Master can quite process that, the Doctor cups one hand around the nape of the Master's neck and leans down to kiss the chocolate from his upper lip. The Master rumbles deep in his throat and leans into the kiss, tipping his weight to overbalance and push the Doctor against the back of the couch.
When they finally break apart, the Master smirks. "You just wanted the chocolate, didn't you?"
The Doctor pouts, wounded. "Not only."
The Doctor does.