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By: Memory Dragon
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I make any claim to.   Nor do I own Firefly.
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Simm Master
Warnings:  More silliness.  Lots and lots of silliness.  And you don't need to know a thing about Firefly to understand this fic, though it's more amusing with foreknowledge of the series. 
Original Prompt: I sort of want to see something to do with a guilty pleasure where one of them is either a secret fan (-cough-obsessed-cough-) of sci-fi, steam punk- or something else along these lines, and the other exploits it. It can be any Doctor/Master pairing, funny, taunting, or sexy...Please? :)
Notes: Written for the best_enemies anon meme. Original can be found here.  Again, you don't need to know anything about Firefly to understand this fic.  The Doctor doesn't and he's the one narrating.  My beta reader found it perfectly enjoyable despite not knowing a thing about Firefly, so take her word for it.  XD
Thanks: Many thanks to my beta, narwhale_callin.  I adore you for betaing even though I sometimes overwhelm you with fic!


The Doctor's coat was missing.

He looked all over the TARDIS for it, searching the rooms he used frequently and some of the ones he didn't, but it was nowhere to be found.  After two hours of searching, the Doctor was starting to get a little panicky.  He liked that coat.  It wouldn't be easy to find a new one that was similar to it and besides, he didn't want to get a new one.  The Doctor wanted his coat and he was starting to feel a bit naked without it.

When the coat still hadn't turned up, the Doctor went in search of the Master to ask if he'd seen it.  Normally, he tried not to bother his enemy-turned-prisoner if the Master was avoiding him.  He respected the Master's privacy and understood when he wanted to be left alone, so long as he wasn't trying to rewire some of the more important systems of the TARDIS or creating a super weapon in his spare time.  The latter happened at least once a week and the Doctor had taken to running a daily weapons check. 

But right now he was far more interested in finding his coat, the Doctor reminded himself as his thoughts started to drift from the matter at hand.  He was distraught enough to ask the TARDIS to locate the Master. 

"Why is he all the way down there?" the Doctor asked aloud.  The Master was in one of the oldest parts of the TARDIS.  Under normal circumstances, the Doctor might have been suspicious, but the room the Master was in was the standard entertainment room that came with all Type 40 TARDISes.  The Doctor had never actually used it, opting instead to create his own rooms that fit his personality over the course of his regenerations.

Wandering through the TARDIS corridors, the Doctor continued looking for his coat.  He didn't think it could wander off on its own, but with the life he lead, one could never tell...  He didn't see it, however, and he was becoming more and more dejected when a very loud noise caught his attention. 

Was the Master watching a movie?  It sounded like some kind of western, if the accents were anything to go by... until he heard the voices cursing rather imaginatively in Mandarin.   A... Kung Fu Western?  Well, the Doctor had heard of stranger things.  Like his coat growing legs and wandering off without him.

It was extremely loud, whatever it was.  The Doctor knocked as hard as he could, but barely anything could be heard over the noise the movie was making.  Why did the Master have to have the volume up so high?  Maybe...  It couldn't be to cover up some devious plot that made a lot of noise and would be unpleasant for the Doctor, could it?  ...Again?  Rolling his eyes, the Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to unlock the door and catch the Master in the act.

The Doctor wasn't at all prepared for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door.  He'd expected to see the Master wielding together some weapon of mass destruction.  While he'd certainly caught the Master 'in the act,' it wasn't an act the Doctor could have ever imagined him doing.

The Master was leaning over with a rapt expression on his face, intently watching the movie.  In his hands was a pistol that he kept spinning and holstering repeatedly, when he wasn't fumbling it and having to pick it up from the ground.  But he couldn't have a weapon on the TARDIS.  The Doctor had checked repeatedly.  Where had he..?  Oh.  It was a toy gun, not a real one? 

It wasn't just the Master, though.  The room was full of posters and homemade figurines and... was that supposed to be a space ship?  The propulsion systems were all wrong and it'd never get off the ground in real life.  If the Master was making model space ships, surely he was smarter than that?  Looking towards the screen, the Doctor raised an eyebrow.  There was a completely naked man sitting in the desert.  A Kung Fu-Western-porno?

Of course, none of that explained why the Master was wearing the Doctor's coat.  It was far too big for him anyway!  What did he think he was doing?!

After a minute and eleven seconds of staring in shock while the Master repeated the movie line-by-line with the characters, the Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver and paused the movie.  It was a rather unfortunate place to pause, with the naked man walking back to the space ship.  Or not so unfortunate, if you happened to like looking at that sort of thing.

The Master spun around furiously, but the expression faltered when he saw the Doctor.  Embarrassment turned to a scowl in under a second as he crossed his arms over his chest.  "Did you forget how to knock?"

"I did knock," the Doctor replied.  "Loudly.  Several times.  You didn't hear - Hang on, are you knitting that hat?"

At the Doctor's incredulous question, the Master looked down at the half-knit orange and yellow hat that rested on the table.  The Doctor didn't think any of his regenerations would wear a hat that ugly, which was saying something.  The Master, however, simply looked smug about it.  "Yes," the Master said, nearly dropping the toy gun again as he tried a more complicated spin.

"You're knitting."

"It's Jayne's hat, and you weren't likely to take me out where I could find someone else to knit one for me."

The Doctor didn't believe for one second that any girl would put that monstrosity on her head, even if she had the Doctor's more liberal definitions of fashion.  Which wasn't the point, and it was about time that the Doctor got to the reason he'd come down to talk to the Master.  "You've stolen my coat."

"I've appropriated it.  And you weren't using it."

Same difference.  "Why?" the Doctor asked, beyond baffled.  He knew the Master had a tendency to obsess over certain things, usually the Doctor, but the Master wouldn't have stolen his coat for that, would he?  No, that would be admitting he was desperate and the Master couldn't have exhausted his other plans to annoy the Doctor quite yet.  Which meant this had to be for some other purpose, presumably something to do with the movie of the naked man in the desert.  Except, that meant the Master was obsessing over something that wasn't the Doctor and that just wasn't possible.  The Doctor refused to be jealous of a movie.

"It's a brown coat," the Master said, closing it around him possessively. Which worked rather less well than the Master might have hoped due to the Master's broader shoulders.  

"Yes, I can see that."

"I'm a Browncoat," the Master responded smugly.

The Doctor blinked.  Rassilon, the Master had lost it completely.  He thought he was the Doctor's coat now.  Surely the Doctor would have seen signs of the Master's deteriorating mental health before now?  The Master always had been a little crazy, but this was bad even for the drums. 

"Can you leave now?  I'm trying to finish watching this episode," the Master asked, affecting a bored tone as if all of this were perfectly normal insanity.  The Doctor looked back to the naked man who was walking to the same space ship as the Master's model. 

He decided he didn't want to know what the Master was obsessed over if it wasn't him.  He would just go off and pout by himself that the Master had found something else to be a fanatic of.  "I came for my coat," the Doctor said, inching towards the door as he thought over his options.  Was it worth it to get his coat back now?  He was definitely washing it before he put it on again, if the Master was watching porn in it.  He really wasn't going to think about that.

"You've found it," the Master said, rolling his eyes and waving at the Doctor.  "Don't you have planets to save?  Bye-bye now."

"I meant I want it back."

The Master glared at him, clutching the coat.  "I'm not finished watching yet."

"I'll get you your own?" the Doctor said, a touch more desperately than he'd planned.  A strategic retreat might be in order.  "You could have one that would actually fit you."

A calculating light entered the Master's eyes as he considered the proposition.  "It has to be brown," the Master insisted, much to the Doctor's relief.

"Wouldn't dream of buying one that's a different color," the Doctor hastened to assure him.

"One that's more like a cowboy's than yours."

"More cowboy.  Molto Bene.  I can do that.  I'm quite sure I can do that," the Doctor said, holding out his hand for the return of his coat.

The Master gave him one more moody glare before taking off the coat.  Was the Master wearing braces and..?  No.  The Doctor wasn't going to think about the Master's taste in pornographic space-kung fu-westerns.

Taking the coat back, the Doctor fled from the room as quickly as he could.  An hour later, he left a new brown duster in front of the door as promised and knocked twice.  He didn't wait for the Master to open the door, already retreating down the hall to create some device that would allow the Master to come out with him on excursions.  It was obvious the Master needed to get out more.  Then maybe the Master would go back to obsessing over proper things. 

Proper things like the Doctor.


Quote of the fic:

"Somebody has to speak for these people. You all got on this boat for different reasons, but you all come to the same place. So now I’m asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything I know this, they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten, they'll swing back to the belief that they can make people…better. And I do not hold to that. So no more running. I aim to misbehave."
-Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity