The Master (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
best_served_hot) wrote2011-02-10 06:08 pm
best_served_hot) wrote2011-02-10 06:08 pm
fic: two lines
Title: Two Lines
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
best_served_hot
Character/Fandom: The Master/Doctor Who
Prompt: #03 Mutual Destruction
Word Count: 530
Summary: The position he sits in is somewhat awkward, he seems to remember it being easier when he was smaller, younger and he didn't know quite as much.
Author Notes/Warnings: Filler, really. A moment after the Valeyard making an appearance on the Plane. Um, angst. Definitely. A thank you to Jchan for letting me borrow Ten and for picking out a name.
So many words could be said in the space between unfamiliar stars where one man sits on the damp surface that makes up the plane floor. The position he sits in is somewhat awkward, he seems to remember it being easier when he was smaller, younger and he didn't know quite as much. His knees are pulled up to his chest, face impassive as he watches the celestial bodies whirl and pass by. If he's looking for one in particular, he doesn't say.
He doesn't say anything at all even as another man, taller, skinnier, more somber (or is that guilty?) comes over, sitting next to him without a word. He mimics the other man, pulling his knees up to his chest as they both sit in the silence that has become the gap between them both. The silence expands and contracts with each breath they take in and let out, each beat of twin hearts that somehow ended up going out of sync such a long time ago. They sit quietly, back to back and inches away from touching.
This should be easy. Just a moment between them uninterrupted by anger or regret. Not made less by foolish childhood dreams or sentiments. Perhaps they can both pretend for a little while that they can stay like this forever. They can pretend that they are somewhere else entirely, a place with red fields where they would run until they couldn't anymore. Where they left child shaped imprints in the grass and stared up at the sky, crying out with surety which they would visit first.
They can feel each others warmth, permeating the air between them. Either one of them could close the gap but neither of them will. It would spoil this moment, whatever it is. A breath, then another and they can almost feel how they used hold the others hand in their own. How one was always there to pick the other up when one of them fell.
There is a shift in the air around them as if the universe itself is waiting to see what transpires between these two giants, huddled in small shapes, trying to forget (or remember) that they stopped believing in fairy tales a very long time ago.
A breath and a whisper.
"Beta Coronae Borealis."
For the briefest of moments their hearts are beating in time again and it hurts. It hangs in the air and the first man breathes it in, bitterness heavy on his tongue. He stands without a word, a slight slump to his shoulders the only outward show that he perhaps mourns the loss of the moment. The second man looks up, shocked by the sudden shift and soundlessly his mouth works a moment, stilled only by the soft sound of his once-friend's voice.
"Don't ever say that again."
A skip in the beat and their shared rhythm is lost once again. One man walks away. The other sits, knees to his chest, face impassive as he watches the celestial bodies whirl and pass by.
If he's looking for one in particular, he doesn't say.
Author:
best_served_hotCharacter/Fandom: The Master/Doctor Who
Prompt: #03 Mutual Destruction
Word Count: 530
Summary: The position he sits in is somewhat awkward, he seems to remember it being easier when he was smaller, younger and he didn't know quite as much.
Author Notes/Warnings: Filler, really. A moment after the Valeyard making an appearance on the Plane. Um, angst. Definitely. A thank you to Jchan for letting me borrow Ten and for picking out a name.
So many words could be said in the space between unfamiliar stars where one man sits on the damp surface that makes up the plane floor. The position he sits in is somewhat awkward, he seems to remember it being easier when he was smaller, younger and he didn't know quite as much. His knees are pulled up to his chest, face impassive as he watches the celestial bodies whirl and pass by. If he's looking for one in particular, he doesn't say.
He doesn't say anything at all even as another man, taller, skinnier, more somber (or is that guilty?) comes over, sitting next to him without a word. He mimics the other man, pulling his knees up to his chest as they both sit in the silence that has become the gap between them both. The silence expands and contracts with each breath they take in and let out, each beat of twin hearts that somehow ended up going out of sync such a long time ago. They sit quietly, back to back and inches away from touching.
This should be easy. Just a moment between them uninterrupted by anger or regret. Not made less by foolish childhood dreams or sentiments. Perhaps they can both pretend for a little while that they can stay like this forever. They can pretend that they are somewhere else entirely, a place with red fields where they would run until they couldn't anymore. Where they left child shaped imprints in the grass and stared up at the sky, crying out with surety which they would visit first.
They can feel each others warmth, permeating the air between them. Either one of them could close the gap but neither of them will. It would spoil this moment, whatever it is. A breath, then another and they can almost feel how they used hold the others hand in their own. How one was always there to pick the other up when one of them fell.
There is a shift in the air around them as if the universe itself is waiting to see what transpires between these two giants, huddled in small shapes, trying to forget (or remember) that they stopped believing in fairy tales a very long time ago.
A breath and a whisper.
"Beta Coronae Borealis."
For the briefest of moments their hearts are beating in time again and it hurts. It hangs in the air and the first man breathes it in, bitterness heavy on his tongue. He stands without a word, a slight slump to his shoulders the only outward show that he perhaps mourns the loss of the moment. The second man looks up, shocked by the sudden shift and soundlessly his mouth works a moment, stilled only by the soft sound of his once-friend's voice.
"Don't ever say that again."
A skip in the beat and their shared rhythm is lost once again. One man walks away. The other sits, knees to his chest, face impassive as he watches the celestial bodies whirl and pass by.
If he's looking for one in particular, he doesn't say.