Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: Early one morning, the Master is having problems falling asleep...
The Master didn't know what time it was, which, if you think about it makes a lot of sense since they were somewhere in space, and in space there was no sun (unless you happened to be near a sun) and therefore no day and night, and so time was a pretty useless thing.
However, somewhere in the universe it was 4:38 AM, and 4:38 AM was currently what the Master's internal clock was tuned to. Now, Time Lords don't sleep as much as humans do, this nevertheless, does not mean that it is polite to listen to extremely loud heavy metal music in the room right next to one (especially if that Time Lord happens to prefer Glam Rock). Did the Master complain? No! The Master was never one to complain. After asking politely (TURN THAT RACKET OFF YOU JERK-FACED MORON!!!!!) the Master decided to take it in stride. The Bachelor was TRYING to get him irked and then set him up somehow so that he, the Bachelor, would have a chance (however little it would be) to steal the Doctor away from the Master.
The Master was WAY too smart for that.
...
He was making a bomb. It would blow the pratt up.
...Thirteen times... can never be TOO careful after all.
And then he would be in little tiny pieces.
At this point the Master let out a disturbing, high-pitched laugh. The Master paused. He shook his head rapidly as if to clear it. This was stupid! The bomb was stupid!
A Machete would be much more satisfying!
No, wait... the Doctor would figure out it was him if he used a machete, whereas explosives he could blame on the Bachelor being stupid! That was much more satisfying!
No! Wait! The Doctor! The Doctor in his room! The Doctor in his room at this very moment ALONE. The Doctor in his room at this very moment alone AND the Master had an excuse!
The Master ran out of his room completely forgetting that he had left the bomb on a timer.
Children, this is why it is very important to get a good night's sleep.
Then again, it WAS a bomb and the Master was SURE to remember after taking a few steps out of his room. He is after all, a genius.
``Oh, forgot to turn off the lights!`` The Master muttered flipping them off, and then running full tilt towards the Doctor`s room.
...
Yeah... well... let's forget the bomb for now...
The Master with baited breath knocked softly on the Doctor`s door.
A heavy snore was his only response. The Master rolled his eyes and knocked louder. There was a small yelp, a thud, and then the soft treading of feet. The door slowly opened. The Master held back a smile. The Doctor stood before him in pyjamas, hair adorably mussed, bare-foot, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Of course the cute image didn`t stop the Master from thinking nasty R rated thoughts that can`t even be repeated in this story.
``Mas'er..." The Doctor asked tiredly, "Wha' are doing? I thought we decided that even though we're flying through space in the middle of nowhere, literally, now would be the equivalent of 4:40 AM..." The Master had to use as much restraint as he had to hold back his smug look (so instantly there was a smug look on his face).
"I know that. However, I cannot sleep Doctor," The Master declared. The Doctor looked at him blankly.
"What do you want me to do about it?" The Doctor asked pouting slightly wanting to get back into bed himself. (Well you ARE a doctor, Doctor...)
"Let me sleep with you tonight," The Master attempted. The Doctor blinked slowly.
"But I only got one bed in my room," He protested not understanding the Master's meaning at all. The Master looked up ceiling-ward—and managed to side step the piece of ceiling about to land atop his head. The Doctor was so sleepy he didn't even seem to notice his ship was out to get the Master.
"Let's share the bed then," The Master suggested as if he were talking to a very slow human child.
The Doctor tilted his head thinking carefully about this.
"It'll be just like old times..." The Master sang enticingly, "I know how much you love reminiscing..."
"But..." The Doctor said carefully, "You always hog the covers..."
The Master stared at him, "What?" he asked flatly. The Doctor nodded.
"Every time we shared a bed you always stole all the covers, and then I'd get cold and I'd steal them back and then you'd get cold, steal them back and then push me off the bed. I don't LIKE sharing the bed with you..."
The Master stared at him for a moment. He sniffed and a look of pure unhappiness came about him. If the Doctor hadn't known any better he could have sworn he could see a little tiny raincloud of gloom above the Master's head.
"But it's true!" The Doctor protested feeling slightly guilty, "And I'd always end up cold and on the floor with not even a pillow." The Master frowned.
"Well... we could do other things," He suggested. The Doctor looked entirely confused now.
"What other things? What can you do in a bed other than sleep? Well... I read in bed, but I don't really feel like reading out loud, and I don't really want a bed time story. I suppose you can also bounce on a bed, but I don't feel particularly bouncy at the moment."
"And isn't that a first," The Master muttered under his breath.
"And, I suppose on a bed you can sing, but Master, I'm really sleepy, and you're 856 years too old for a lullaby... I'd rather just sleep on my bed if you don't mind too much. Why can't you just go sleep on your own bed, alone?"
And people wondered why the Master hated him?
"I can't sleep in that room though!" the Master protested.
"Why?" the Doctor whined, his drowsiness was beginning to morph into grumpiness and no one liked a grumpy Doctor, "You've been sleeping in it fine the last few months."
"It's the Bachelor!" The Master complained, "He's been playing this AWFUL heavy metal music all night long, and so I can't get any sleep. If you were really a good host, you'd let me sleep with you!" The Master winced slightly, but the Doctor didn't seem to catch the double entendre.
"Now Master," The Doctor said with the air of someone who had to put up with crazy megalomaniacs a lot (which he in fact did), "Technically you're a prisoner."
"Someone you said you'd care for."
"Yes, yes, but your problem isn't because of the Bachelor anyways. My, you two are so alike."
The Master narrowed his eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked suspiciously. The Doctor yawned.
"Oh he was here as well just like you about an hour ago complaining that you've been playing heavy metal music all night. He wanted to sleep with me too," The Doctor nodded.
"He still does..." the Master muttered now teeth grindingly angry.
"Hm?" The Doctor blinked.
"Nothing," The Master hissed, "If it's not him, then who is it that's playing that horrible music?!?"
"Oh, it's just the Tardis."
"Oh, it's the Tardis is it—THE TARDIS!? WHY ON GALLIFREY WOULD THE TARDIS BE LISTENING TO HEAVY METAL?!?" The Master twitched. The Doctor shrugged.
"She likes it," He said fondly, "She feels lonely when I go to sleep so I turn it on for her to listen to. She quite likes Iron Maiden."
The Master glared at the Doctor for a long time. The Doctor frowned.
"Oh, what? What is it now?" he grumbled.
"If you always play it for the Tardis, why is it that I've never heard it before?" The Master ground out. Never mind the fact that the Doctor was completely insane. The Doctor had always been completely insane, it was just showing itself more often, that's all.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry, that was my fault. I must have turned off the sound proofing while I was cleaning. The switch is right by the light switch, then it'll be as silent as a Weeping Angel... no wait that's a bit unsettling, I don't really like those Weeping Angels... it'll be as silent as... hmm."
"The grave?" The Master suggested. The Doctor gave him an annoyed look.
"No, no, that's even worse, anyway, just go back to bed." The Doctor said waving his hand down the corridor, "If you still can't sleep go sleep with the Bachelor, he was lonely too after all."
With that the Doctor closed his door in the Master's face.
The Master twitched.
AND PEOPLE WONDERED WHY HE HATED THAT MAN!?!?!
The Master stomped back towards his room muttering about obtuseness, idiocy, and honey and ant hills and how tasty the Bachelor would probably be to red ants. He slammed open the door and the room promptly exploded.
...
Thirteen times.
...
Which is why it is never a good idea to forget about your bombs. Luckily for the Master, it was a shoddily made bomb and so he was only knocked unconscious.
At least he could finally get some sleep.
Author's Note: Heh heh, the Tardis is so punk. Please Review