"Happy Valentines day, my dear Doctor."
“Happy— ” he started. Oh my dear Lord Rassilon. Where was he? It seemed like he had taken refugee, after last night getting half-drunk, in the TARDIS. Just not his TARDIS. How did he not see it before?
The Doctor was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall looking up at the Master, then that ache comes again and he reflexively shifted on the floor. It was like a case of morning erection. Is it even morning?
The lack of beard this time around was very, very appealing. He swallowed as he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.









