1.
“Doctor?” the Brigadier asked unusually tentative. “You're having a visitor.”
With an annoyed click of his tongue, the Doctor looked up from the current experiment he was conducting on a random part of his TARDIS – more out of boredom than the actual hope of achieving anything.
“Well, where are they, then?”
“He insisted to wait outside.”
The Brigadier looked pale, he noticed, paler than usual, but something of his familiar attitude gradually returned to him, as he straightened before the Doctor.
“And I'll have you know that we don't appreciate these kind of visits. In my opinion, any visitor that comes here, asking for you with a weapon aimed at my people is rather unwelcome.”
The Doctor, already at the door leading out to the corridors of the UNIT HQ, halted, turning around with a confused furrow of his brows.
“I quite agree, Brigadier. Who... Oh.”
The Brigadier regarded him with a flat expression.
“Yes. Oh, Doctor. Never mind that we've tried to imprison your visitor several times, having to watch him get away, now he's actually walking up to our headquarters in the middle of the day.”
“Yes, I, err...” The Doctor sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, suppressing a little grin. “I'll take care of it.”
Before the Brigadier could needle him further, he'd slipped out into the corridors and hastened down towards the main entrance, a cheerful Christmas tune on his lips – He wasn't sure where it came from, but he found he was rather happy, all of a sudden, about Christmas after all.
He concentrated on getting his smile under control, before pushing open the doors, looking straight at the Master, who had apparently been about to straighten his tie in the windows.
“Why, hello old chap,” the Doctor greeted him, an eyebrows pointedly raised. “I've heard you've done a bit of early afternoon threatening to see me?”
“One must keep in form,” the Master replied, quickly letting his hands sink to prod his pockets for his weapon, no doubt.
After a moment, he noticed the Doctor watch him with an amused expression and simply gave up, sighing heavily.
“Well, now that I am here...”
“And you still haven't told me why.”
“I have to say, Doctor, I think you're being quite rude.”
“Rude?” he spluttered. “What have I done now?”
As a reply, the Master pointed up to something above their heads and with a frown, the Doctor raised his head, looking up to a bunch of green twigs tied together and sloppily duct-taped over the door frame.
The Doctor looked up, then back down to the Master, then up again and, finally, shrugged.
“Okay?”
“Okay?” the Master asked. “You're... you're... ignorant towards long-standing Earth customs!”
The Doctor frowned, feeling confusion rise at the, quite frankly, odd behaviour of his oldest friend.
“Am I?” He shook his head gently. “And since when do you care?”
“I...” The Master was paling visibly, his beard trembling slightly, before he finally turned around and walked off without another word.
Speechless, the Doctor looked after him.
“Well that was... odd.”
“What was?” he heard Jo's voice from behind him, where she stood, smiling innocently. “The Brig said the Master was here?”
“Well, not anymore, you see,” the Doctor pointed towards the quickly shrinking form of the Master walking away. “He's behaving a little weird, the old fellow. Just kept on pointing towards that plant up there and then left without even threatening me a little bit. I'm not sure if I should be offended or worried.”
Jo let her eyes wander upwards and then burst out into a laugh.
“But Doctor, that's a mistletoe!”
“So?” he asked, brows furrowing yet again. “What's that to do with anything?”
“Oh, you don't know,” she giggled. “It's a Christmas tradition we have here. When two people stand under a mistletoe, they have to kiss, you know?”
“Well, that's just a rubbish tradition,” the Doctor started. “What if you don't want to...- Oh.”
Jo nodded lightly, biting her lower lip to keep herself from laughing and the Doctor, full of regrets, looked back outside, not seeing a trace of the Master anymore.
“Well,” he sighed. “We better keep eyes and ears open this Christmas. He'll want to arrange some silly revenge plan. Never could handle rejection terribly much, the poor sod.”
2.
“Oh, Doctor, look! Quickly, look!”
Feeling the adrenaline rise, his whole body tensing in expectation of an emergency, he ran towards the door, where Tegan and Nyssa were standing. In front of them stretched empty fields, one bordering to the next, all covered in high, white snow, mostly untouched.
Except for the little trail of footsteps leading towards and back away from his TARDIS, snow uncovered beside them, as if someone had hastily ran through it.
“Huh, that's odd, has either of you gone out?”
They both shook their heads and Tegan was still looking at something right over their heads, her eyes gleaming.
“Look, someone put a mistletoe up your TARDIS.”
“Someone... what?”
The Doctor followed the girls' gazes and felt a heavy sigh rising. He was beginning to realise who that someone had been and whose steps had so hastily retracted from his TARDIS at the sound of Nyssa's voice.
“What's a mistletoe?” the girl asked curiously, looking from Tegan to him and back and with a little smile that he tried not to put too much bitterness into, the Doctor laid a hand onto her shoulder.
“I think that's something no one can explain to you better than Tegan.”
The Doctor left the two girls alone with a sigh, pulling back to his console, arms resting on it heavily as he let his shoulders hang down, blond hair falling into his face.
It was a shame, really. Something hot, overpowering rushed through the Doctor's body at the thought of kissing this particular Master under a mistletoe, beard scratching him slightly, as leather-gloved hands ran over his sides, firmly pressing him against the wood of his door frame and...
Ah well, he thought, as he raised his head and watched Nyssa coyly pecking Tegan on the lips with a wide, joyful smile.
Maybe that was not quite what the tradition was about, in any case.
3.
Gloomy, she had called him.
She was right of course, as she so often was, but he had still hoped it wouldn't show. Hadn't he put on his most cheerful facade, hadn't he joked and laughed and danced with her?
Rose had made him come back to life. Had made him see more than the raging guilt, the pain, the wish to have died with his people, to just be able to rest.
But that, by no means, meant he was ready to celebrate Christmas with her, Mickey and Jackie. Oh, no no no. Especially not Jackie.
He carried around enough guilt for a life time, more than a man should ever carry, he didn't need her to give him even more with silent, accusing glances, with sadness in her eyes whenever she asked Rose when she'd next stop by.
No, no, no.
But after a while of waiting down here, alone with his thoughts and nothing to distract him with, the Doctor felt himself become restless.
With a heavy sigh, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door – There must've been something going on somewhere in London, surely. Some tiny invasion he could run into and stop.
When he stepped out, however, he found that most urgent invasion happening was one of his face – Green, poking leaves hung in his face and tasted bitter on his tongue as he – very accidentally – licked them.
“What on Earth...”
He pushed aside the curtain of branches and leaves and took a step out of the frame to look up. Someone had fastened a mistletoe right to the frame of the TARDIS, huge and basically unmissable and the Doctor, to his absolute horror, felt a painful stab at his hearts.
Who could've thought that these old things could actually still register new pain?
Who had put this up? Had Rose thought it was a good idea? Probably. And why wouldn't she, she couldn't know, wouldn't understand...
Ready to get on his tiptoes and pull down the mistletoe, the Doctor almost fell onto his nose when a voice far, far too close to his ear purred, “Well, hello there, pretty.”
Flinching, the Doctor turned to face a young man, completely disregarding his personal space as he stood before him, grinning from ear to ear, warm, brown eyes finding his and the Doctor, for a second, found himself stunned.
“Pretty?” he asked, turning back into his TARDIS, half expecting to see Rose behind him, even though he knew better.
When turning back to the man, he raised a hand silently, pointing a finger at his own chest and in return, the man raised his finger, poking him into the very same spot.
“What is it you're into?” the Doctor asked dryly. “The giant nose or the giant ears? I'm getting a lot of compliments about it.”
“Do tell me who gave you those compliments,” the young man replied, a cold smirk spreading on his face as he caught on, “and I'll give them a piece of my mind.”
“Sorry,” the Doctor laughed, shaking his head in confusion. “Have we met?”
“Not yet,” the man replied, face lightening up a little now. “Name's O. Will be very happy to make your acquaintance. I think we might be up to an excellent start.”
“Oh, err... are we?” the Doctor asked, watching nervously as – O? What sort of a name was that? - did the impossible by stepping even closer towards him. He felt their eyelashes and the tips of their noses brushing each other's, as he swallowed hard, unable to step back, unable to take his eyes off the warmth that was in his.
“Mistletoe,” O simply breathed, hot against his lips and the Doctor felt his throat dry.
He didn't want to do this. He didn't particularly mind kissing this man – in the slightest, he found – but something about doing it here, underneath a mistletoe, the spot he'd never actually managed to... No, he couldn't, he wouldn't-
Warm lips pressed against his, the gentle scratch of a beard tickled his chin and fingers raked underneath it, pulling him closer. For a second, he considered pulling back, but then the Doctor felt his eyes fall shut, felt himself leaning into the kiss.
It wasn't his fault – It's just been too long, so very long since he'd gotten touched. And if he just tried hard enough, he could imagine that this was exactly what it would've been like to kiss the Master.
4.
Christmas on Earth – particularly London – had become a risky business.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected when he took the stroll through the city. What he'd hoped for – To run into one of his old friends, to feel less alone, to get a distraction, anything, anything to not remember the huge, clawing hole in his chest?
Maybe.
The Doctor's coat was covered in gentle-falling snow as he returned to his TARDIS with a heavy sigh and soaked Converse shoes.
He liked the cold, liked the way his feet stiffened and pained – Somehow, it had something comforting to know his body was, for once, feeling just as raw and tormented as his soul did.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the mistletoe hanging down his TARDIS door.
“That's stopped being funny,” he muttered under his breath, looking left and right and seeing nothing but an old man a few steps away from him, pointedly looking into the other direction.
“Yeah,” the Doctor called towards him. “Bit pointless to pretend not to see me in the snow, you know? I can see the footsteps leading away from my TARDIS and straight to you.”
With a miserable huff, he headed for the door, trying to unlock it, but before he could even fit his key into the lock, the man suddenly had jumped at him, pressing a hard, demanding kiss onto his lips.
“Hey,” the Doctor whined as soon as he got air again, pulling away from the man slightly. “I'm not really in the mood, mate.”
“Good bottom!” the man replied with a grin and something that sounded horribly like a fake accent. “Very fast bottom.”
A hand clasped his ass slightly and the Doctor flinched, standing up straighter as he looked into that toothy, fowl grin beneath him.
“I'm Mr. Razor!” the man grinned, the accent not wavering, as he raised both hands and pinched his cheeks painfully. “I'm delighted to meet!”
“Aha,” the Doctor replied tonelessly, staring down at the little man in shock. “Sure.”
Laughing loudly, the man was staggering away from him again through the snow, his loud voice still audible in the distance and the Doctor looked after him with a deep frown, on his lips a faint taste of plastic.
Was that.......?
Nah!
... Was it?
5.
“Really, honey, you can't evade it forever. It's been hanging there since end of November and as far as I know, from my little box here, it's February now.”
“Watch me,” the Doctor called back nonchalantly.
“It's already getting brown at the edges. That's what you're forcing me to endure.”
The Doctor sighed.
“I told you, Missy...”
“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes and then spoke in a Scottish accent and deeper voice that sounded nothing like him, “'we can't be doing any of that before I know I can trust you, Missy.' Thing is, though, Doctor, how are you going to learn if you can trust me if you spend all these months outside my little vault, huh?”
“You could just take down the mistletoe,” the Doctor replied stubbornly from down the corridor. “And we wouldn't be having this problem.”
“Nope,” she replied shortly and he could hear her sweet fake-smile in her voice even without seeing her. He'd bet money on her applying lipstick in this very moment. Not that he had any. Or particularly would care if he lost it. “I like it there. Right in the entrance, where it belongs. And one day you'll gonna want something from me and I'll be ready.”
He rolled his eyes.
Things had gotten a bit.... tense in the last few years. He had hoped for her to give up on the whole mistletoe idea after that first night, when she had thought he was coming in and snogged Nardole all over the face, but no, even after it'd taken him days to recover and get enough courage – and showers – to go in there again, she'd kept up the mistletoe.
Not kissed anyone else, though, which the Doctor was more than happy with. The picture of her lipstick all over Nardole's white face was still haunting him.
It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss her. Of course he did – They'd done it before and he'd actually liked it. This body usually didn't like being touched, but of course, as always, the Master was the exception to all his rules.
This one, though, he couldn't allow himself to break this one. She was... trapped. By him. He couldn't go in and kiss her, no matter how much she might think she wanted it. No matter how much the lack of conversation, company and touch made her.... restless.
He sighed.
Somehow, by trying to make things easier between them, they'd gotten more complicated.
6.
A whole week.
That's how long she'd been sitting on Earth, watching the snow cover her windows, watching the little stars stick to the glass and melt within seconds, leaving nothing of the beauty in their patterns, just wet dullness.
A whole week and there was no sign of him or any mistletoe that mysteriously popped up over her head. Nothing. Nada. She'd gone in and out several times, out of mere principle more than need, really. There was nothing to do. With Yaz, Graham and Ryan safely tucked back on Earth, until she had the hearts to go back to them, there was nothing to do but sit here, at her window, and wait for the dark shadow of the Master to show up in the blizzard of white.
Except he'd never before taken this long.
Had he finally given up on it? Not once had they managed a kiss. Well. Not properly. He'd sneaked some out of her, as she knew now.
Maybe the whole debacle back in the vault had finally ruined it for him.
Or maybe, a nasty voice in her mind whispered to her, maybe you've treated him horribly one too many times for him to believe you'd ever want to kiss him again.
Oh, but this was pointless.
With an angry shove, the Doctor got up the window sill she'd sat on and grabbed her coat. He wasn't going to show up and she wasn't going to get any happier sitting here, drowning in self-pity. Being alone was never good for her. But being alone and having time to think?
Horrendous idea.
And if it was true, if he'd really given up on her – and she couldn't even blame him – then really, there was only one thing to do, wasn't there?
Humming, more to give herself confidence than out of cheery mood, the Doctor walked through the snow-covered city, the little plastic bag with the mistletoe clutched to her chest. It wasn't hard to track down the Master, not when she could just trace his phone and to her own surprise, she found his TARDIS parked on the outskirts of town, disguised as a little, purple painted house with a heavy load of snow on the roof.
She grinned at the sight, wondering if he'd gone domestic.
As quietly as she managed in the crunching snow, she sneaked to his entrance door, fiddling with some duct tape and the mistletoe. A piece of tape got into her hair and she simply left it there, sure that the alternative would be worse, but other than that, she survived the plan almost without accidents.
Almost, because he'd heard her, of course he had, and when he tore open his door to see who was lurking around his TARDIS, he hit it against her forehead.
“Ow,” she made dryly and for a second, she could see his entire face fall, before he got his expression back under control and put on his calm facade.
“That's what you get for roaming around my TARDIS. What do you want?”
Now it was to her, for once, to wordlessly point to the mistletoe over his head. For a second, the Master stared upwards, very obviously stunned.
“You've gotta kiss me now,” she declared, grinning widely, one hand still rubbing her forehead as she stepped forward, so that they both stood perfectly under the mistletoe. “We finally made it, eh?”
The Master looked at her, apparently still lost for speech, blinking in confusion.
Hearts beating away in her chest impatiently, the Doctor grabbed his chin gently and stood onto tiptoes, leaning in to him. It took him a second to catch on, bless his hearts, then he let his gaze sink down, eyelids dropping and his lips pressed against hers.
He tasted good, she decided. That warm, Christmas taste of tea and cinnamon and something undefined, sweet. He felt even better, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, one hand quickly wandering over her back, rubbing gently.
He pulled her into his arms after a while, simply holding her and she could feel his hands tremble against her.
She'd really done a number on him. Poor soul. She had to make a mental note, really, reminding her that she aimed to kill sometimes, when she was angry. This body seemed to have quite the cruel streak.
“Doctor,” he interrupted her thoughts and she hummed.
“Yes, Master?”
“That's not a mistletoe.”
“What?”
She looked up. Well. It was definitely green! And had... twigs. And that's... mostly what mistletoes looked like, right?
“That's a poisonous Lizian plant, illegal in fifteen galaxies.”
“I got that in a human shop!” she replied, jumping out of his arms in outrage. “They had tons of those on the shelves!”
The Master was very unsubtly suppressing a grin.
“I know. I was the one who placed them there for distribution.”
For a second, the Doctor just stared at him and then an exhausted laugh spilled from her.
“I can't believe I've thought you'd gone soft for a moment there,” she finally brought out, finding, to her surprise, that the laugh was sticking around and the Master laid an arm around her, pulling her inside.
“It's the poison,” he replied, a laugh building in his own voice now . “Makes you delirious before it kills you.”
They stumbled inside, both laughing. The Master quickly shut the door and they sank to the floor, curling up next to each other, shoulder to shoulder until they got too exhausted to laugh and the Doctor ended up with her head on his lap, while he leaned his back against the console, panting. With a short but painful rip, the Master pulled the duct tape out of her hair, shaking his head at it before he let it fall to the ground.
“Well,” he finally brought out. “Best kiss I ever had.”
