Prompt : Draping

He looks up to the sky and he feels quiet inside. For a few precious moments he forgets about the people who have held him to this place and about the pain of living again, and the anger about all that had transpired. For a moment, he forgets about everything except the fact that the sky has stars, all of which are far away and none of which matter.

It is strange, but for a moment he remembers again why it had seemed such an appealing idea to settle down. The stars could be seen from here. But nothing up there necessarily mattered.

He looks down and the inclination is almost tender. He is almost not jealous of the stars that had stolen his man away and driven him to anger, to pain and to jealousy. He almost smiles at him.

But he sees the Doctor looking at the sky and he sees tears on his cheeks and suddenly he honestly forgets everything. His brows furrow and belie the way his hearts just twisted.

“…what?”

The Doctor takes a shaky little breath and he brings a hand up to his own face, to wipe the tears away with his fingers pressed flat to his cheek. He shakes his head and he tries to smile.

“I am so scared,” he says.

The Master’s brows furrow, and he looks up to the stars again. For a half of an instant he feels jealous again, as he has for so many years. But it fades quickly, and is replaced with that quiet, grounded feeling that that he has gotten so often, lately. He nods.

“Ah.”

He looks back to the shorter man, trying to watch his eyes. He hesitates upon the realization that the last shudder was not exactly a sob, and he tilts his head.

“Cold?”

“A little,” the Doctor admits, but he does not take his eyes off of the stars. Slowly, the Master inclines his head to watch the stars; the glance is there for but a second before he watches at the Doctor’s cheeks, instead. There are fresh tears there.

He sighs, shaking his head. He shrugs off his outer robe and drapes it lightly over the Doctor’s shoulders.

The Doctor looks at him, but he does not flinch, and the Master only hesitates so much before letting the fabric linger there. His hands settle on the Doctor’s shoulders and the smaller man opens his mouth to interject.

“Won’t you be--?”

“Just take it,” he tells him, and his voice is quiet enough to be gentle.