A.N.: So, this story is a bit weird; it's not really a twoshot (though it will have two chapters), but more like a oneshot with a prologue. This story serves to close a time loop that I began in Parallels and Perpendiculars, so this prologue is set a few hours after the events of Bright and Colourless, while the oneshot part of the story (or next chapter) will be set two hundred years after Parked on Pluto.

Warnings: Slash, implied nudity, spoilers up to and including The Angels Take Manhattan

Series summary: The TARDIS doesn't always take the Doctor where he wants to go, but it always takes him where he needs to go; Time Lords hold a secret behind their backs, and they have a duty to follow.

Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who

Prologue

One, two, three four.

One, two, three, four.

A warm smile touched the Doctor's lips as the familiar rhythm that he had missed so much pounded against his arm. His lips curled upwards lazily as the last vestiges of sleep began to leave his mind, but he had no desire to open his eyes just yet. The place in which he found himself was warm and comfortable, and he wished to prolong the moment as long as he could.

His bed was soft as he lay upon it for the first time in a long time; he couldn't recall where he had spent the few hours here and there that he had spent trying to reach a state of slumber that seemed to constantly evade him ever since he had lost the three people who had always been closest to him during this life, but it certainly hadn't been anywhere in this room.

Yet he hadn't lost everything, as he had originally thought; against the odds, the one who always seemed to make a comeback had done exactly that once again – and now they were lying next to him, and suddenly the Doctor was attacked by the incredibly powerful desire to look at them.

The two of them were sprawled out across the bed, covered only from their waists down by the thin sheet that the Doctor kept on his bed (the temperature controls in the TARDIS made it so that it would never be cold in there, unless something was wrong with the ship). The Doctor was lying on his front, his head turned to the right and facing his companion, one arm reaching out across his chest and his right wing draped over his body – his left pinion was hanging off of the edge of the bed.

When he peeled his eyes open, he saw that the Master had yet to open his eyes. Both of the shorter Time Lord's lightning pinions were stretched out behind him, drooping off of the edge of the bed even though he was lying as far back on his back as he could. His face, too, was angled towards the Doctor, and the taller Time Lord realised just how peaceful the Master looked now, both in sleep and in sanity.

The Master's hearts were beating lazily beneath the Doctor's arm, pounding against the limb in a familiar and comfortable beat. It had been so long since they had been able to just enjoy moments like this; probably since before either of them had left Gallifrey.

Not bothering to resist the urge as it came to him, the Doctor reached up with his hand to the Master's face, tracing the pad of his index finger ever-so-gently across the shorter Time Lord's cheekbone. He barely ghosted over the soft skin of the blonde's face, but it was enough to draw the Master from his slumber.

The Master's brow creased adorably as he stirred, a small, barely audible hum emanating from his throat. Brown eyes slid open to meet the Doctor's, and the Doctor's grin widened to an almost painful point. The beam was mirrored on the Master's own face, as the Doctor placed his hand back on the Master's shoulder.

"Morning," the Doctor mumbled, finding his voice only slightly weak from hours of non-use.

"Is it?" the Master asked sceptically, mischief dancing in his deep, chocolate irises.

"Oh-" the Doctor began, but the Master let out an earthy chuckle, and all was forgiven.

"Morning," the Master conceded, shifting his hands as they lay in the space between them, underneath the bridge of the Doctor's wing.

The Doctor leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against the Master's and allowed his eyes to slip closed once more. As he pulled back a few seconds after, he found himself greatly grateful that Time Lords rarely suffered from halitosis. He rested his head back down on the pillow, closer to the Master's face that it had been previously.

Yet the peaceful situation was not to last, as a painful twinge ran down the Doctor's back and he grimaced, realising that he couldn't stay in this position.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pushing himself up and turning around so that he was sitting upright with his back resting against the headboard. The Master didn't move at all, except to angle his head upwards so that he could still see the Doctor's face.

The Doctor smiled down at him, reaching around with his wing to brush the last feather against the shorter Time Lord's face, drawing a contented sigh from the blonde's lips.

From his new vantage point, the Doctor could see the complete mess that they had made of his room. Clothes were strewn everywhere from the door to the bed, leaving a physical indicator of the disorganised path that they had taken once they had got inside. The lamp on the Doctor's bedside table had been knocked to the floor, and was covered modestly with one of the Doctor's socks.

At the end of the bed, the Master's jeans had been dumped in a haphazard pile, the psychic paper that he had taken from Jo still sticking out of the pocket.

The Doctor allowed himself to feel an intense feeling of gratitude that things had worked out for the two of them, even though – as the Master had said – they only really had this one night together. It seemed so strange that the entire scenario – from the Doctor going to see Jo, to the Master finding out that the Doctor had hidden himself away on a cloud in his depression – hung on the single, humble object that was the Doctor's old psychic paper, now sitting so innocently on the end of the Doctor's bed…

The smile on the Doctor's face faltered as his head began to feel strange; as though pressure was building inside his skull.

"Doctor?" he heard the Master ask, concerned, but the Doctor was too far gone to pay attention.

"You have to forget that this ever happened for now, Doctor. Bury it in the depths of your memory."

"When will I remember?"

"When you need to."

"Doctor!"

He was brought back to reality by the Master's frantic cry, and – when his vision returned to the present time – he realised that he had blacked out, and was now lying across the pillows of his double bed with the Master hovering over him, a worried expression painted on the blonde's face.

"What was that?" the Master sighed, concern flickering in his deep brown eyes.

The Doctor reached up to the Master's face, cupping his cheek in his palm as he blinked the blurriness away from his vision and brought his now ragged breathing back under control.

The Doctor licked his lips, letting out a small sigh as he prepared himself to answer.

"I just remembered something I have to do."