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(Lack of) Sight

Sooooo, finally managed to type this one up.  Yeah, I know.  It took  me long enough.

(Lack of) Sight
By: Memory Dragon
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I make any claim to.
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Simm Master
Warnings: The Doctor is a bit of a douche?  Really, not much beyond a bit of groping.
Rating: PG?
Notes: Written for the [info]best_enemies 100 drabble challenge. Yup, this makes six. 
Thanks: Many thanks to Nar, for looking this over and telling me to post it anyway.


"It'll wear off," the Doctor said for the umpteenth time.

"But I'm bored," the Master didn't whine, because whining was beneath him, but he recognized how close he was getting. "If your TARDIS hadn't-"

"If you hadn't been trying to sabotage the circuits by messing with her telepathic signals, she wouldn't have blinded you," the Doctor said firmly. The Master scowled, not so much because the Doctor was scolding him, but because he had been interrupted. He felt the Doctor's hand ruffling his short hair, and he immediately tried to bat the hand away. However, the Doctor moved too quickly and he couldn't see where to. He hated being blind.

"It's been three days," the Master said.

"You've gotten a bit better, haven't you? You said you could see whether the light was turned on or off last night," the Doctor responded. The Master tried to picture him - spiky hair sticking up at odd angles, pinstripe suit (probably the blue one, since it was a Tuesday and the Doctor seemed to like blue on Tuesdays in comparison to the rest of the week), and rocking back on his heels with his hands shoved into his pockets. The Master could even picture that annoying grin that the Doctor was probably giving him right now.

The Master scowled at the mental image, because the Doctor looked too bloody smug about his plight.

The Doctor 'hm'ed' to himself softly and the Master heard him walk away. To one of the far bookcases, if the Doppler effect were to be trusted. "I'm sure you'll find something to do," the Doctor said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

The Master could throw a pillow off the couch he was lounging on towards the direction of the Doctor's voice. It was hardly worth it, though, since the Doctor could easily dodge the fluffy projectile. Schadenfreude was only good when it was directed at someone else's misery, not the Master's own. "You try being blind for-"

"Master, don't move."

"You really think I'm going to fall for that?" the Master asked, plainly bored.

"Don't. Don't move," the Doctor responded.

The Master's first instinct was to wiggle around just to disobey, but the warning in the Doctor's voice held him. There was no longer amusement in his voice, but a hint of tightness that the Master associated with danger. He half turned his head, but he couldn't see what it was that might be threatening him. "What is it?" the Master snapped, wondering what could be dangerous in the Doctor's TARDIS. The Doctor did keep a few odds and ends that could very well be deadly, but he made sure all of them were out of the Master's reach for as long as he'd been captive, and so far the Master had only managed to break the locks on three of them. Had something got loose?

"Just don't move. Stay very still and let me get it away," the Doctor said, the serious quiet of his voice sending spikes of fear through the Master's now tense shoulders. Why couldn't he see? There was something here, but he couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary. What was going on?

The room was completely silent as the Master resisted the urge to tap out his drum beat. He couldn't even hear the Doctor breathing, which was beginning to freak him out just a little. "Doctor?" he asked, when the silence had gone on for too long. He frowned at the uncertainty that managed to work its way into his voice.

But as the silence dragged on, so did the Master's panic. "Doctor, where are you?" he demanded, fighting the urge to jump up or move around to bat whatever it was away. The Doctor had said not to move, but how could he make his own judgment of the situation if he couldn't see? And what if the Doctor had just left him there? He wouldn't, would he? Not if it were something dangerous, but then why wasn't the Doctor babbling? This regeneration never stopped talking and where was he?

The Master blinked rapidly, but he still couldn't see anything more than a grey vagueness. "Doctor?" he asked again, definitely panicked this time. "Doctor, answer me or-"

The Master let out a sharp yelp as he felt hands brushing down the side of his cheek. "Sh," the Doctor said, his voice soft and just above the Master's ear. "Don't move yet."

When had the Doctor moved? The Master hadn't heard any footsteps and it was unnerving to not be able to track where the Doctor was. He felt the Doctor's fingers tracing his cheek, running down his jaw and to his neck. The Master shivered involuntarily as the Doctor's fingers shifted and went under his collar and tie.

The Doctor's hands disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The Master was a little relieved, if just because those long fingers against the double pulse in his neck was doing odd things to his stomach. "Doctor?" he whispered, hiding the unsteadiness in his voice remarkably well, in his opinion. When the Doctor didn't answer, he attempted to reach out mentally, but found an unnerving nothingness around him. Which shouldn't be possible, unless the Doctor was blocking, but why would he be doing that?

He started blinking as hard as he could, willing his eyes to work. "Where are you?" the Master snapped, using anger to hide his panic. The Doctor hadn't said it was safe yet, but he was going to get up anyway. The feeling of not knowing was more haunting than he had ever realized. One didn't think of how much one relied on sight until it was taken away. Right now, it was the most terrifying thing that the Master could think of.

Before he could get up, the Doctor's hands returned to his body. This time, they were under his suit jacket, untucking his shirt and slipping beneath it with a practiced grace he'd never have given the Doctor credit for having. At least not any of the Doctor's other regenerations.

The Master bit back a small, needy sound as the Doctor's hands ghosted up his sides an his thumbs brushed over the Master's nipples. Then he decided to hell with it, and let the noise slip through his throat. If the Doctor was going to scare him like this, he was getting his revenge, and he knew quite well what those small noises did to someone's libido. He was rewarded by hearing the Doctor's breath hitch softly, glad to finally hear his normally garrulous captor. Bastard. What was going-

When the Doctor's mouth met his, the Master let himself relax, danger forgotten.

His eyes fluttered shut as he sighed into the kiss, not minding the darkness for the first time in three days. He let out a low whine from the back of his throat as the Doctor pulled away slowly this time. The Master nearly followed after him until the Doctor started to chuckle and ruffled the Master's hair. He blinked his eyes open back to see nothing but grey and his confusion doubled.

"So," the Doctor said, and the Master could picture him perfectly. He was leaning on the back of his heels with his hands in his pockets, an insufferably smug expression on his face to match his tone. It was almost a relief after so long of not knowing where the Doctor was or what was going on. "Still bored?" the Doctor asked.

Oh, that bastard.

The Master quickly calculated where the Doctor was in relation to him based on the sound of his voice. Too close to dodge. He heard a satisfying thump as the Doctor yelped, not minding that he no longer had a pillow.



Jan. 16th, 2012 11:32 pm (UTC)
Heh. I'm glad you liked it, and that it can cheer you up. Thanks for the comments! And I hope you find that fic eventually!