"Missy!" the Doctor barked into the air. "This isn't very funny, you know."
A large blob of cream cheese frosting was perched on the tip of his nose. His clear blue-grey eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the blob and wrinkled his nose, trying to banish its sugared creamy itch from his skin. The skin around the blob of frosting crackled and burned a little, and he growled in frustration.
A frigid draught of air blew past his half-covered skin. He shivered at first but then was thankful for the chilly distraction. His legs, face, and neck were slathered in smeared red velvet cake and more of that infernal frosting: an itchy army crawled all over his hypersentive pale skin. Even his wooly grey hair was caked in the stuff, and he watched dark crimson crumbs tumble from the top of his head and roll down his nose.
More frigid air blew around his long red-lined Crombie coat, over his body, and between his legs around his groin. He cursed in Gallifreyan and tried to shift his stance to let the coat fall closed to cover his nakedness.
"I thought we didn't curse, old friend," the tall, dark-skinned Time Lady to which he was chained back-to-back mused aloud. Her voice lilted into the air, bouncing with a mildly South African accent.
"There are exceptions, Doctor," Twelve hissed out of the side of his mouth.
"Touchy, touchy, aren't we, Doctor?" his future self asked, chuckling as she turned her head and gazed at him out of the corner of her eye. One of her long, licorice-colored braids swung around as her head moved and brushed against his neck.
"You're not naked but for a coat and covered in this horrible cake!" he growled, his Scottish accent curling into and scrubbing the air.
"I'm not the one who crossed my own timeline." Thirteen winked at him as a taunting smile bloomed on her lips.
"And I'm not the one who punched the Falorian head of state in the nose," he replied.
"Ah, the blame game. I've heard it before," Missy's sing-song voice trailed down the hallway as she approached their sunlight-flooded prison cell. Her boot heels clicked and scraped over the gray cement floor. "The people and words may change but the finger-pointing stays the same."
"Shut your fucking cakehole, Missy," Thirteen laughed, shaking her head. "You've always played a little of it yourself when I'm around....Koschei."
"Oh, Thete, Thete, Thete....both of you." Missy's footfalls stopped, and she turned to face the two Doctors chained to each other in their cell. Her blue eyes hardened as she looked them over.
"Still wearing that awful hat, I see, and those dreadful clothes." Thirteen hissed at Missy out of her sharp, thick-lipped smile.
"What's wrong with my clothes?" Missy asked, surprised. She whirled around, her heels scraping the floor as her long black skirt lifted. She stopped, adjusted the brooch pinned at her collar, straightened her jacket, and tugged her fruit-filled hat to a jaunty angle. "I quite like them. At least," she said, chuckling as she regarded Thirteen in her black velvet blazer, frilly white shirt, tight black pants, and knee-high boots, "I'm not dressed like a Edwardian-style New Waver from 1984 like you."
"And I seem to remember, Doctor," she said, aiming her gaze at Twelve, "that you seemed...smitten....with me."
"Am not!" Twelve protested.
Missy laughed. "Deny it all you want, Doctors, but you are." She pursed her lips. "Aw, such tender hearts...breaking as I died and refused to regenerate."
Thirteen felt her brain gorge with memory film: the blond Master, dying in her arms, flashed in front of her eyes.
"You were my friend," Thirteen said softly. "What would you have me do -- hate you? Wish you dead?"
"No, you're too predictable for that, Thete," Missy replied. "Anyway, this is growing tedious."
Missy pulled both of their sonic screwdrivers out of her pocket: one glowed green at its tip, the other purple. She glanced back and forth at the two sonics, then chose the purple lit one. "I like this one. It's got a bit of style," she said before aiming it at the cell door, which flew open with a click. She aimed it again at the Doctors' chains, which tumbled off their arms and landed on the floor with a loud CLANK.
The Doctors stepped away from each other, stretching their limbs and breathing a sigh of relief. Twelve dusted the cake and icing off his skin before he buttoned his coat and ruffled the cake out of his hair. Thirteen rotated her shoulders until they loosened with a light crack.
"You may go," Missy said, bowing low and twirling her hand in an exaggerated gesture before handing each Doctor their sonic.
"We are not amused," Twelve said darkly, glaring at her as he walked past.
"Oh, come on, Missy." Thirteen stopped in front of her and folded her arms. "It's not that simple. Don't tell me you're just going to let us waltz out of here, eh?"
"Spoilers," Missy replied with a smile and a wink.
Thirteen resisted the urge to slap Missy. Expressionless, she flipped Missy the middle finger and walked away, catching up to her past self who was already walking down the corridor. He glanced back just as she flipped Missy off, his eyes wide with shock.
"I didn't know I'd become so vulgar," he said as she began walking beside him.
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Doctor," she replied, smiling. "And you're not meant to know it yet. Now, I think we have a heated political situation to smooth over."
"I need to, ah, clean up first," he replied. "And find some clothes."
Missy shook her head and watched the two Doctors walk away down the corridor.