Doctor Who: The Bright Asylum

Midnight at the Frog and Crane

So you’re River Song. Good gods there’s two of you.” says the Master as he sticks his fingers under the Doctor’s shirt to lift it, looks, pats the slightly pointed bit of belly-bump, then turns back to the woman in black. “Did he make like a yeast and divide? Again?”

River Song smiles as a hand snakes over her hip and grips her bottom. “Mmm. Hello Sweetie. Are we back where we belong?”

The Doctor, laid out on the bed under a sheet, is not asleep. He opens his green eyes like stealthy windows on the day, and his lips quirk by themselves into a right-sided line. “Oh I don’t know, Missus Robinson… it’s rather like choosing a good orange. They’ve got to have good color, and firmness. And plumpness!” He swallows, looking wistful. His eyebrows raise in appreciation. “And all the right curves, too. I’m a lucky boy, to be such a good judge of erm… exotic fruits.”

The Master snorts, through his hand, because it’s covering his face now. “You are an exotic fruit, dipthong-for-brains.”

River Song smiles and slides one finger along the hem of the black silk cloak, swishing the material about. “Oh! You think I’m exotic. The Master’s exactly right. You, my love, are a thing to be praised. What exactly did we just do to that poor man, to make him freeze like that?” Her eyes flutter over Rassilon’s still form.

The Doctor, in his infinite wisdom, sits up easily, furrows his brow and studies Rassilon with the intent of a hungry male walrus, then decides to say something… relatively notable. “Nothing a sense of humour won’t fix. He’s just cross because he thinks I stole his Christmas present to himself a while back.” He pokes at Rassilon’s free hand, the other still being around the Master’s neck, and smiles, lifting it up and waving the fingers at River, then the Master. “Rassilon, this is my wife, River Song. Master, this is my wife River Song. River, this is Rassilon, and that’s the Master! Say hello, Master! Say hello, Rassilon!”

River Song exhales a heavy breath and adjusts her seat on the Doctor’s bed. She shoots a glance at the Master, then turns back to the Doctor, saying only, “Now Sweetie, you know that’ll never catch on at parties. And are you sure you’re quite all right and sorted after borrowing my body to play your little trick? That was quite a new experience, you using my mouth like that. Anyway, he must be in shock. I think it’s a good look for him.”

“Well yes, but which one? And yes I’m quite sure I’m fine…” the Doctor smirks. He checks Rassilon’s neck and wrists, then the Master’s… wrists, for obvious reasons. “You know, Dear, I think you’ve got something there.” Wrapping his arm around River’s waist, he pulls her against him, pressing long squarish fingers to her stomach. “And may I say, you look ravishing in that Flesh avatar, rather like a bar of dark chocolate with legs.”

“Oh yes, very fine…” says River, eyeing his bum, and with both eyes, too! “But I don’t know what to call you. Perhaps a caramel? Or a nougat… no, no- my Benjamin’s definitely a jelly baby.”

“Oy, you bad, bad girl!” The Doctor’s lips spread wide, despite himself. He scrubs at a spot on his tweed.

Eyes bulging with the desperation to escape, for various reasons, the Master leans as far as he can with Rassilon’s hand still clutching him by the throat. He manages a half-metre in the general direction of the door, before gagging. “Yes, yes! He’s a jelly baby and you’re a chocolate bar! This isn’t a sweets shoppe and I’m not Sinter Klaus and I want to see what she’s wearing under that cloak, blast you! ‘Cause after this day, one of you had better be wearing a corset!”

River says, “That would be me, Master. See?” She parts the folds of the black silk robe, revealing a black velvet corset. “Mine’s a pregnancy corset. And the best part is, these don’t make pâté out of your organs, because they’re bigger on the inside.” She smiles at the Doctor. “That was really an ingenious idea, making transdimensional corsets. Quite comfy, too.”

The Doctor’s hand cups his sharpish bump as he blushes and giggles. Then River cups it, and he giggles some more. “Sorry Koschei… that was only my fifth body, thanks. No repeats.” Somehow, he’s wiggled and squirreled and wriggled himself until he’s sprawled half out of River’s lap. “Besides, it’s not my fault you just like to look.”

River pets his cheek and grins.

A groan emits from the the Master’s half-strangled throat. “Do not. Do that. In front of me. I’ll barf. But back to the point. I missed that? I bloody missed that?” Sensing a continuation of the spectacle, he sticks a finger as far down his throat as he can manage, then makes a gagging noise…




“Good imitation of a person gagging, Koschei! I give you a gold star for mathematical excellence!” the Doctor says, grinning wiping a tear from his face as he remembers he’s forgotten he’s not supposed to say that anymore. He then gets up from River’s triangled legs, plants a wet kiss on her springy gold curls, burrowing in like a star-nosed mole, then uncrooks a finger to the door. “We ought to be going- we’ll be late.” He turns to the Master, saying, “Hang in there, Koschei! I’m out to an early lunch- and my wife is coming, too!”

“No, no, you promised you’d get me out of this!” the Master whinges, shoving a finger at Rassilon and sticking him in the eye. Repeatedly.

But the Doctor and River are already heading out the door.

“At least tell me the name of that corset shop!”

Outside the Infirmary door, the Doctor lingers between the two guards, tossing a ready smile back and forth as the occasion presents. River has gone ahead to the TARDIS to dress for their outing. She has the wrist-strap, after all. Who is he to take away his wife’s little leather toy? He doesn’t really like them, anyway. Who needs a unicycle when you’ve got a big blue Rolls?

As he wanders down the hallway, taking the long route back to the TARDIS so he can get a bit of thinking time, he notices a shadow in long, swishing robes, moving toward the Infirmary.

“Oh, Rassilon, hello! Where do you think you’re going?”

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