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Lost Boys	By : Turkaholic Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3820 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, any of its characters or trademarks. I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Chapter Fifteen
                The Master’s head was bowed, watching the Doctor with a dark and furious glare as the other Timelord spluttered and shook back into reality. The Doctor winced as the freezing water ran into his eyes. He gasped.
                “What did you do that for?” he blurted eventually, teeth chattering and a reproachful look on his wide-eyed face. The Master bowed his head further and snorted in laughter, then looked back into the Doctor’s face irritably.
                “You snapped.” He spoke slowly. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to do that.”
                The Doctor rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, still shuddering as the freezing water soaked into his skin, and memories of the last eight days began to sink back in. The Toclafane; the terrible truth came back to him like a half-forgotten nightmare and he shook his head subconsciously.
                The Master watched carefully, his eyes never leaving the Doctor’s face, taking in every twitch and shudder. Eventually he rose back to his feet. After watching the other Timelord for a few more seconds he looked away and held down his hand. “Get up. You look ridiculous.”
                The Doctor hesitated. He opened his water-blinded eyes and looked at the hand blankly. The Master’s lip twitched downwards.
                “Get up, Doctor, before I drag you up.”
                The Doctor reluctantly raised a wet hand and placed it in the Master’s. Fingers tightened around his wrist and he found himself being raised slowly; carefully to his feet. The Master’s fingers didn’t let go.
                The Doctor was too cold; too wet and shocked to even question the other Timelord’s actions. All he felt was the warmth around his wrist and the sense of the Master’s presence so close. After so many days alone, even though every logical thought in his head told him to walk away, the Master’s presence – their connection – seemed comforting.
                The Master pulled him upright and looked into his face curiously, a mix of irritation and concern. The Doctor’s teeth chattered. His hand shook in the Master’s grasp.
                “Is that brain of yours functioning now?”
                The Doctor shuddered, staring back into the Master’s face with a frown. “…towel.” He breathed, voice shaking. The other Timelord raised an eyebrow as a smile slid up one side of his face.
                “…apparently so.”
                The Master pushed him back against the blank wall and let go of his wrist, leaving him something to lean against as he reached for a towel. As soon as he turned away the expression on his face changed completely: The half-smile faded into a confused frown and he swallowed hard, as if forcing some emotion back. The Doctor – still shivering – remained oblivious to all.
                “There-“ The Master threw a soft white towel across the small room. The Doctor, still in shock, wasn’t ready for it. It fell to the floor with a thump. The Master sighed dramatically. “Oh come on!” He said, holding his palms out incredulously. “You’re in shock, not a vegetable.”
                “You’re not the one freezing.” Defended the Doctor, forcing the words between his teeth.
                The Master rolled his eyes. “You want me to dry you off, too?” He said distastefully and leaned down, snatching the towel from off the floor. He pressed it into the Doctor’s chest and held it there.
                The scene seemed to freeze. For a moment, Jack thought that the Doctor at his side had caused the memory to stop, and he tilted his head, waiting for the Timelord to speak. He didn’t. Jack realised the Doctor was still watching, holding his breath; waiting.
                Something seemed to pass between the two men; something unspoken, but simultaneous. The Doctor felt the warmth of the Master’s fingers pressed against his wet shirt. The Master’s brow furrowed into an intense stare.
                The towel fell from the Master’s hand and slithered to the floor.
                In unison, both Timelords leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together furiously. Both screwed their eyes shut at the contact, the Doctor letting out a shaking breath as the Master’s fingers dragged themselves up his shirt and up around the back of his dripping neck, pulling his head harder against his own, as if trying desperately to merge them into one. The Master tilted his head animalistically as the Doctor found himself doing the same.
                The Master moved, trampling the long-forgotten towel as he nudged the Doctor’s legs apart, acting on the instinct to move closer. Whatever doubts had been in the Doctor’s head just a moment ago seemed to flee. Memories of a time long before this came forward instead, and he tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips against the other Timelord’s, hard.
                The Master reacted without question. He caught the Doctor’s lips and pushed him back, taking control. This time, the Doctor made no attempt to fight it.
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Lost Boys