The Human Problem
[Doctor Who
Friendship/Hurt/comfort
Plot: The Master; hater of all things Human, finds himself at the receiving end of an embarrassingly Human problem…catching the flu.
Authors note: Just a little 10/Master fluff, for all you who have a soft spot for the two of them…oh! And this is assuming that the Master did not get shot
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who (Drat!) I do not own the Doctor (Double! Drat!) I do not own the Master (Drat! Drat! Drat! DRAT!)
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
It had started with a scratchy throat…nothing really, just a scratchy throat…which had friends. Soon headaches were knocking on the door, accompanied by mild coughing fits, and the drumming was doing its best to accommodate them, by beating louder and harder than usual.
But just when the party was getting on the way, they were gate-crashe by aching muscles and nausea.
Now, the soar throat and coughing fits weren't happy about the new arrivals, thinking that they were being outdone, they picked up the game…turning from a scratchy throat to a full fledged, I'll-appreciate-being-normal-so-much-more-if-you-just-stop-it-hurting soar throat…and severe coughing fits.
Feeling left out, the headache formed an alliance with the drumming, and working together, they pounded the inside of their poor hosts head until he thought it was going to split open.
And just as the Master thought it could not get any worse…the angry neighbours came knocking on the door, high temperature and his wife the chills.
But the Master decided, that possibly the worst thing about the excruciating party that was going on throughout his body, was that there was still room enough for his ego, who was like the lazy uncle who practically lived there, and refused to get up off the couch. If it weren't for that, he probably would have gone to the Doctor, told him he was feeling rotten and asked for some help.
The whole party had started a few days back- when he and the Doctor had visited the planet, Bellamore. It was a cold, wet, unpleasant planet, that wasn't well sterilised in the age that they visited, especially for outsiders.
That was when Uncle Ego had started to make a nuisance of himself, refusing to accept the Doctors offer of an extra coat and spitting back that 'My superior biology will be more than enough to take care of me'
Now the Master was stuck, standing at the kitchen sink…doing dishes as a punishment for hiding the Doctors Bananas…or using liberation as an excuse, he hadn't worked out which yet. He pulled another clean plate, out of the murky slush, trying not to look at said slush, or he would surely lose the little he had eaten in the passed two days.
Another coughing fit struck, and by the end of it, the Master was left, clinging onto the edge of the bench to stay upright. He waited a little while until oxygen made its way to his brain again, and the world stopped swaying and came into more focus, before picking up the stack of clean plates and taking them to their cupboard.
But before he had crossed the kitchen, some really bad new arrivals joined the party…Mum and Dad had definitely come home.
The Master couldn't help but cry ou,- the pain to his abdomen had come out of nowhere, and made the Timelord feel like he had been run through with some sword. He did not even hear the plates smashing, as he fell to the ground, tears running down his cheeks, when they pain came back, this time sharper than before, slicing away at his insides.
He curled up into a ball, shivers wracking his body, head pounding with the combined effort of the headache and drums, throat as soar as if acid was being poured down it…muscles aching, nausea sitting back for just a second to watch the show, but the Master knew that as soon as mum and Dad turned their back…the arrogant symptom will definitely make up for time wasted.
It was getting too much to bear- his body was surely going to give up on him soon, shame too, I like this body…it was so much fun.
But then, the Master saw something, that brought him a surprisingly large amount of comfort and relief…before he closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness…the Master saw a pair of White converse, sprinting into the room.
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
The Doctor was working on the inner wiring of the TARDIS, wrestling through a variety of thick, coloured, stringy, sparking, greasy, and Rassilion knows what else, cables, trying to find the circuit board for the monitor on the console…which had refused to work since the last rough landing.
It only took a couple of minutes of skilled climbing and weaving, to find the troublesome panel, reconnect the wires that had come loose, and repair the burnt out circuits, and then place it back in its home, before setting off on his way out.
Just as he made his way to the hole in the grating, he sound of smashing china carried down the hallway, bouncing off the walls of the console room. Groaning, the Doctor pulled himself out, put the grating cover back on top, and leaned heavily against the console, his head bowed, and his body reflecting the tiredness he was feeling internally.
The Master and he had been together for almost three months now, and throughout the whole of those three months, the Master had done everything in his power, to make life as difficult and unpleasant for the Doctor as possible.
Without anything remotely evil to do, the confined Timelord, had decided to entertain himself, by pranking and disturbing the Doctor.
It had started with him sewing all the Doctor ties together, and then hanging them around the control room, singing a song he had heard about being evil.
"It's so easy when you're evil!
This is the life, you see the Devil tips his hat to me!"
Rolling his eyes, the Doctor pushed off the console, and set off down the halls.
He hadn't thought that the Master would like it here to begin with, but he had thought…hoped, that after a while, he would come around, and start to feel more at home. But he hadn't. The Master still hated it in the TARDIS and still hated the Doctor for keeping him here.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen, he would almost certainly be sitting in one of the chairs, feet propped on the table, and smirking at him…probably eating one of his liberated Bananas.
This mental image however, was run out of his mind, when a pained sob came from the open doors of the kitchen.
There was no way the Master would cry just to get the Doctor worried, it was too belittling for him…something was really wrong. So the Doctor broke out into a sprint, racing down the long hallway, and careering through the open door, to find, to his shock, the Master, curled up of the ground with tears rolling down his cheeks.
The Doctor raced to his side, just as the prone Timelord lost consciousness. Dropping to his knees, he quickly pressed two fingers to the sides of the Master's neck, desperately trying to find a pair of pulses from two beating hearts, and almost laughed out loud when he did.
The relief of this discovery however, was short lived, because then the Doctor realised how hot the Masters skin had become…he was burning up in Human standards, compared to how cool a Timelord should be, he was practically on fire.
The Doctor hastily rolled the Master onto his back, and took out his sonic screwdriver, and scanned his companion with it. While the Sonic screwdriver was doing that, the Doctor noted, that despite his sky high temperature, the Master was still shivering like mad, and was trying to curl back into a ball.
Once the screwdriver had finished, he pointed it to the closest monitor, and the read outs jumped on screen. It said that the Master was suffering from a sever case of the flu, and had begun to develop Secondary bacterial pneumonia. The Doctor sighed a breath of relief, and stood up. That could have been fatal if he hadn't happened to pick up some very useful antibiotics from the Sisters of Plenitude, on New Earth, when he visited with Rose.
'Nope, shouldn't be a problem. Just a lot of bed-rest, a lot of medicine, and a lot sitting still…god, this is going to be torture!' And with the thought in mind, the Doctor stooped down, placed his arms underneath the Masters own, lacing his fingers over the unconscious Timelords chest, and then with a little effort, began to drag the body down the hall.
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
Awareness was slowly coming back to the Master, although he was extremely reluctant about his return, fighting to remain in his unconscious bliss. But unfortunately, the possibly of doing that was ripped away from him, as a coughing fit wracked through his body.
To make matters worse, there was a thing that had wrapped itself tightly around his body, getting tighter with every move that he made.
The panicking Timelord thrashed around on top of the bed, trying to break free, but only succeeding in losing his already laboured breath.
Just when he thought that it was all going to overwhelm him, the Master felt a pair of hands pulling at the thing wrapped around him, and helping him sit up.
As soon as the coughing fit subsided, and he had caught his breath, the Master cracked open his eyes, to find that the thing was a bed sheet, and the hands belonged to the Doctor, who was looking at him with concern.
Embarrassment flowed through the Master, who refused to meet the Doctor's eyes, too ashamed at being seen this weak, and chose instead, to observe the room he was in, because it definitely wasn't his.
"This is your room," he stated, a little of his confusion mixing with his voice.
"Um, yes," mumbled the Doctor, sounding just as uncomfortable as the Master felt.
It took a moment for the Master to remember why he was in a bedroom, why his skin was sticky with perspiration, and why his entire body had an irritating tingly ache going through it.
"You, um…how long was I out?"
The Doctor waited a moment before answering, running a hand through his hair, and sighing, "Almost three days."
The Master spun around to face the Doctor, his features set in a surprised expression, repeating under his breath, "Three days."
Not waiting for another awkward silence to fall over them, the Doctor rattled off diagnostically, "You had a severe case of the Flu, which developed into secondary bacterial pneumonia. I would guess that you picked it up from Bellamore…because of the pneumonia, it's going to take a couple more days for you to completely recover…so I would say you're gonna be feeling rotten for about another, ummm, 70 hours. The antibiotics should speed things up a bit, but until then, you should be staying in bed."
The Master's behaviour was taking the Doctor by surprise. He had been secretly dreading the sick Timelord's return to consciousness, not knowing what to expect.
He could have been angry, and accused the Doctor of taking advantage of him. He could have mocked him about caring, but here he was, the Master of all things, refusing to meet the Doctor's eyes, and nodding at what he was saying.
"We all get sick Master…it's okay. This just hit you harder, because of the amount of time that you spent as a human," explained the Doctor, knowing better than to put his hand on the Master's shoulder, but trying to be as much comfort to him as possible anyway.
The Master nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips, muttering under his breath, "That and I am just unlucky."
The Doctor laughed, countering lightly, "Well thank goodness for that, otherwise you would make my job even harder than it already is…was stitching the ties together completely necessary?"
The Master grinned, lying back down on the soft bed, and folding his arms underneath his head. "What else was I going to do? Sticky tape them together?"
The Doctor shrugged in defeat, catching in the corner of his eye, the Master yawning quietly. "Go to sleep, and you will probably be able to miss around two hours worth of this suffering," he smirked, concern riddling his tone.
The Master must have been really tired, because he nodded docilely, and rolled onto his side, falling asleep almost immediately.
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
The Master woke up four hours after that, and the Doctor had giving him a heap of antibiotics, and assured him that they would take affect almost immediately, which they did.
Unfortunately, this meant that the Master felt completely alright…which was good, but was unable to do anything because his body was too weak…which was bad.
So naturally, he had gotten bored, and the Doctor had gotten bored, and everything was generally really boring.
But now, he was regretting ever suggesting the Doctor find something interesting to do, because now he had been left alone in the room, and was feeling both bored and lonely.
However, just then the Doctor bounced merrily into the room, saying proudly, "I've done it!"
"What have you done?" asked the Master in an amused voice, cocking his head to the side with interest.
"I found something to do," grinned the Doctor, looking extremely proud of himself.
"Oh really?"
"Yep!"
A silence fell over the room, and the Master rolled his eyes, before saying, "Doctor, this is a serious question…Does this regeneration have ADHD by any chance? Because that would explain so much."
The Doctor looked confused for a second, before letting out a long, "Ohhhhh. Um, I'm not sure really…possibility I guess. Anyway, my brilliant solution." And with that, the Doctor held up the case of a DVD and showed it to the Master, who looked at the plastic cover in confusion.
"The Lion King?"
"Yeah, the Lion King. Brilliant movie, sorta like Hamlet," rambled the Doctor, slotting the shiny disk into the DVD player on top of a large television set, and settling down on the chair that he had taken residence on for the passed couple of days.
As the warning adverts flashed up on screen, the Master thought about it for a little while, before saying, "Hmmm, Simba being Hamlet and Scar being Claudius?"
"Yep," grinned the Doctor, happily popping the 'P'.
The Master shrugged as the menu came up on screen and the Doctor pressed play, muttering, "Guess so."
"You never struck me as a Hamlet fan," commented the Doctor, shifting into a more comfortable position in the chair.
"I'm not," answered the Master. "Just browsing."
So they spent about half of the movie in relative silence, the Master sniggering at some bits, the Doctor rolling his eyes because these were usually the bits where little children would start crying, or get scared, but now it was the emotional bit, and the Master was getting bored, commenting that it was now obvious where the Doctor got all his rubbish from.
"It's not rubbish," defended the Doctor, smirking none the less. "You're just worried people are going to accuse you of ripping off Scar."
The Master gaped at the Doctor, who started laughing at him, and said indignantly, "I did not get my ideas from the Lion King."
Between fits of laughter, the Doctor wheezed out, "Yeah…all I'm saying is that it's looking mighty similar."
The Master rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the television screen, as Mufasa's ghost began to disappear.
"Who's your favourite character?" the Doctor asked abruptly.
The Master rose an eyebrow, asking, "Who's yours?"
"I asked first."
Sighing, the Master scratched the top of his head, before announcing, "Scar."
"Typical."
"Alright then, who's your?" asked the Master, an embarrassed pink tinge spreading over his cheeks.
"Um…I don't know," replied the Doctor, clearly hoping the Master would leave it there…not a chance.
"Come on, I told you mine, now- who?"
The Doctor let out a defeated sigh, before muttering, "Reefikea."
"What?" laughed the Master.
"I said Rafiki," answered the Doctor in a clear voice. "I like his song. Asanta Sana squashed banana."
The Mater rolled his eyes now, saying, "Now that's typical…always have been a fan of the monkeys."
"He is a Mandrill," corrected the Doctor defensively.
"Which is a member of which family?" grinned the Master, talking in a way one would with somebody extremely young or stupid.
"Cercopithecidae ," answered the Doctor, determined not to be proven wrong by the Master.
"Which is a family for what sort of animals?" asked the Master triumphantly.
"Monkeys," sighed the Doctor, rolling his eyes as the Master let out a victorious whoop and laughed, retorting, "Small minds are entertained by small things."
The Master grinned, and responded cheerfully, "That may be true, but if I have a small mind, and I just outsmarted you, than what does that say about your mind."
Knowing that the Master had beaten him in this round, the Doctor rolled his eyes, saying quickly, "Yeah yeah, you're very clever, look good bit, quiet time."
Sniggering to himself, the Master quietened down, and they continued to watch as Simba returned to the Pride Lands and ruined everything for Scar, which the Master personally thought was a rather bratty thing to do.
By the end of the movie, the antibiotics were starting to wear off and the Master's head was beginning to hurt again.
The Doctor told him this would happen, it meant that his body was fighting the virus, and that by this time tomorrow, he should be up and about like nothing had ever happened, but as the stomach pains began to hit him again, the Master wasn't sure if it was worth it.
"I'm sorry, you're going to have to put up with this for a while," said the Doctor, looking at the Master with concern.
The Master responded with a pained nod, gritting his teeth together as the pain in his stomach grew stronger.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" sighed the Doctor, mainly to himself, but the Master heard him, and answered in a pained voice, "What? Get sick?…I haven't done this before."
The Doctor started at the Master responding to his question, but recovered quickly, looking him evenly in the eye, and saying, "No, make everything difficult for yourself. I mean, you go pick fights, get yourself in trouble, make us hate each other, your rooms as a comfortable as a prison cell, and I speak from experience…why?"
The Master groaned, his entire body was aching again, and the Doctor was asking emotional questions…and the only way to shut him up was to give an answer.
He mumbled quietly, hoping that the Doctor would leave it at that, but of course he didn't. "What was that?"
Sighing inwardly, the Master groaned, "Because I didn't want to like it here."
The Doctor looked shocked, but luckily left it at that, suggesting that the Master try to sleep through as much of the next 24 hours as possible, and that he wouldn't go anywhere if he didn't want him to.
The Master nodded, curling up into a tight ball, and fell asleep.
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
Within 12 hours of that conversation, the Master had returned to good health, and was up and about once more.
In the console room, the Doctor was sitting in the captain chair, half enjoying the peace and quiet, and half dreading what the peace and quiet meant his companion was up to.
The Doctor let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, and feeling disgusted with himself, because as soon as the Master had started to feel better, the Doctor started to miss him being sick.
He was much like the old Koschei that he had grown up with then; funny, only a smidge egotistic, and insane enough to get the Doctor. Now he was no doubt rigging something up that was going to hurt, embarrass or annoy him, and he was just going to have to deal with it.
"Oh well," muttered the Doctor, jumping from the seat, stuffing his hands into his pockets and setting down the halls of the ancient Time-machine at a leisurely stroll.
He cautiously rounded the corner that his room would usually be found, and was only mildly surprised to find that it was not there, the old girl was obviously having a little fun.
'Am I just here for everybody's amusement?' the Doctor internally sighed, deciding to follow this corridor in search for his bedroom.
It took about ten minutes until he was able to track it down, finding it somewhere close to the wardrobe. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor walked towards the door, when it swung open and the Master stepped out, a little startled at the Doctor's sudden appearance, but quickly recovering.
"I left my coat," he explained, not looking remotely interested in continuing with a conversation.
The Doctor nodded his understanding, and the Master spun around, setting off down the hall. But before the Doctor could step into the room, or even open the door to do so, the Master spun around to face him again, saying in a defiant voice, "I hope you don't think I am going to thank you."
The Doctor gave his old friend a small smile, and replied, "I don't."
The Master grinned, nodding before spinning around, and calling behind his shoulder, "Good, cos I'm not gonna."
The Doctor smiled, nodding even though he knew the Master would not see it, and said quietly to himself, "Wouldn't expect you to."
The sound of the Master's footsteps died out, and the Doctor sighed, pulling open his door, and walking inside, a little cautiously.
In the door way, he searched the room for any possible booby traps, before stepping inside, and lying on top of his bed, letting out a long sigh, but jumping when his head rested on top of something hard.
Rolling onto his stomach, the Doctor pulled off the pillow that his head had recently been occupying, ready to jump back if he had to, but was extremely surprised to find four Bananas resting on the sheet, one of the Master's black ties tied around them, and a note slotted in between.
Brows furrowed in confusion the Doctor plucked the small piece of paper, and read the note, grinning wider than he had in months.
Asante sana squashed Banana
--------------------------Doctor Who--------------------------
Well, there you have it, I really hope ya enjoyed it, because I enjoyed writing it. Please review, because reviews are The bricks in the wall of your education.
Thanks a heap for reading this far.
Oh, and I don't own Doctor Who, it's characters, scenarios, etc, The Lion King, Hamlet, etc, etc.
Oh, and please excuse my pitiful attempt at knowing what I was talking about when it came to medicine, I looked it up and that, but it got really confusing, and well…I'm fifteen, all I need to know is that if you are feeling rotten you don't go to school :D
Anyway, thanks again
Later
Maddi