Fic: The Dinner Party (Who's Right? #4)

[brb_evil]

Title: The Dinner Party
Series (Story number): Who's Right? (4)
Summary: Dinner with Alice-down-the-road turns out to be very awkward. 50's AU.
Rating: PG
Characters/pairings: Master/Doctor, Alice Cartwright (OC), Peter Cartwright (OC)
Author's notes: Written in text to Leah A. Based on an inside joke I haven't posted yet and will totally get around to, I promise! Explanation of series here.

The Doctor huffed to himself as he straightened the Master’s tie. Then he looked up and groaned.

“Your hair’s a MESS.”

“MY hair?” the Master said as the Doctor fetched a hairbrush off of the dresser top. When the Doctor came back, the Master gestured at his hair. “What about yours?!”

“This is my style,” said the Doctor, running the brush calmly through the Master’s hair. “Yours is just messy.” The Master shot the Doctor a withering glare, grabbed the brush from him, and went over to the mirror to do it himself.

“I don’t see why we have to go to Alice-down-the-road’s anyway. It’s not as if we’re going to get anything out of it.”

“Alice Cartwright,” said the Doctor, correcting him automatically. “It’s a free meal. And it’s polite but I don’t expect you to care about that.” Then he gave the Master a very serious look. “Behave yourself,” he said. “Don’t get into a fight with Peter. AND NO KILLING.”

“Why must you always take away all my fun,” said the Master mournfully. He shoved the brush into the Doctor’s hands and stomped out of the room, yelling, “Make sure to put on a nice frock!”

The Doctor made a noise of disgust and picked up his brown suit jacket from the bed.

“Shoes,” said the Master, re-entering. He wrinkled his nose at the Doctor. “I said FROCK. I expect you to completely outshine Alice.”

“Arse,” said the Doctor, unamused, cuffing the Master across the back of the head. Then he had to brush his hair again.

“Master and Doctor Saxon!” trilled Alice when she opened the door. “I’m so glad you could come!”

“Actually,” said the Doctor, beginning to correct her, “it’s—”

“We brought wine,” interrupted the Master, pushing past the Doctor to hand it to Alice, smiling cordially.

Alice beamed. “How thoughtful of you,” she said and the Doctor forced himself to smile hollowly back at her. The Master was such a twat.

“Come in,” said Alice. “Peter’s in the living room. I’ll bring out some hors d’ourves for you in just a moment.” She escorted them into the living room where Peter was lounging in an armchair, smoking his pipe.

“Good to see you again, Master,” he said. “How’s work been treating you?”

“Tough as always, Pete,” said the Master, sitting on the couch adjacent to the armchair. “But you know how the markets are these days.”

“Boy, do I!” laughed Peter.

And then they both laughed.

The Doctor frowned slightly and sat down a little along the couch the Master was sitting on. The Master and Peter talked on for a while about the market, ignoring any attempts of the Doctor to enter the conversation and then Alice brought in some tiny pastries on a plate and sat down. Seeing as he couldn’t get into the other conversation, the Doctor made a few attempts to start one with Alice but she appeared to be listening raptly to her husband and the Doctor gave up. He zoned out for a while, deciding to be as rude as he liked next time they got invited here. He would decline it right away and just ignore the Master’s gloating. All he had to do was keep up his polite façade for this evening and he’d be scot free.

He zoned in again just in time to hear the Master say, “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I can’t take the Doctor anywhere. I mean, look what he has on tonight. Awful.”

The Doctor looked down. What was wrong with this suit? It was a great suit. That was why he had seven of them! But the Master wasn’t done yet. He was radiating malicious glee so strongly that the Doctor could sense it in the back of his mind.

“Doctor,” he said, “stand up and turn around. Show Pete what you’ve got on.” The Doctor, trying to communicate his complete rage to the Master mentally without showing it on his face, stood up and turned in a slow circle before sitting down again.

“I can see what you’re talking about,” said Peter. “It wouldn’t hurt for them to spend a little more time working on their appearances. What they look like reflects on us.” The Master nodded sagely.

“I’M SITTING RIGHT HERE!” the Doctor wanted to yell and didn’t because there was a ding and Alice said, “Dinner’s ready!” and left the room.

Dinner was nice in the food aspect of it but Peter, the Doctor decided, was even more unpleasant than he had thought the first time they met. Besides that, the Master spent the whole meal helping Peter demean him in a chauvinistic manner. For some reason, Peter was not only a huge sexist but he had decided that the Doctor counted as a woman. If he hadn’t spent so much time lecturing the Master on the importance of politeness, he would have Oncoming Stormed Peter into the ground by now.

‘Just two more hours to go,’ the Doctor thought. ‘Hold on. You can make it.’

“Are you absolutely certain you need that second potato, Doctor?” asked Peter critically. That was the final straw. The Doctor’s composure snapped.

“What exactly, may I ask, is that potato going to do, Pete?” the Doctor spat, his voice dangerously low. The Master leaned in, grinning a little. He could tell things were going to get interesting.

“I’m just concerned, is all,” said Peter. “Wouldn’t want you to spoil your figure.”

“WHAT FIGURE?!” bellowed the Doctor. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Then, because killing the neighbours is generally frowned upon and he was NOT the Master, the Doctor yanked his anger back to a manageable level.

“You’re one of the most hateful people I’ve ever met and trust me, that’s saying something,” the Doctor said, his voice dangerous and quiet again. “I’m leaving.”

Leaving Peter and Alice stunned in their seats, the Doctor left the dining room. A moment later, he came in, pointedly shoved the potato into his mouth then left again.

The Master followed him out the front door. “Well done,” he said happily. “I especially liked the bit where you demonstrated politeness. You were a veritable beacon of inspiration.”

Then, unwisely, he came within the Doctor’s range and was promptly punched in the eye.

|Previous Story|Next Story|