Work Text:
It was a friendly alien. He really should have been satisfied with that, but sometimes he felt like the universe was out to play cosmic jokes on him. He hurried into his office and slammed the door. Then he stalked into the lavatory and glared at his reflection in the mirror.
Blue slime dripped from his face and the upper part of his uniform. He shook his head in disgust. “Blast it,” he muttered and turned on the warm water.
He wet a cloth and proceeded to clean his face. He heard a familiar set of footsteps and rolled his eyes. Only one person would dare to invade his office and approach him when he was giving off the ‘disturb and die’ vibe.
“So, Alistair, what do you think of Olarkian customs?” the Doctor asked in amusement from the doorway.
Lethbridge-Stewart bit back the crude response which immediately sprang to mind. “Charming,” he returned shortly.
“You did well. They were impressed,” the Doctor said earnestly. “We may make a diplomat of you yet.”
Lethbridge-Stewart looked up and met the Doctor’s eyes in the mirror. He glared. “You could have warned me.”
The Doctor came to stand beside the Brigadier. He grinned unrepentantly. “My dear fellow, that wouldn’t have been sporting.”
Lethbridge-Stewart snorted. “But you warned Sir Reginald, didn’t you? He was perfectly fine at the conference table yesterday, but today he’s too ill to attend the conclusion of the negotiations.”
The Doctor tried to look innocent but failed miserably. “And why should I do that?”
Lethbridge-Stewart splashed warm water on his cheeks and chin. He leaned on the sink and fixed the Doctor with an icy stare. “Because it is more amusing for you to see me covered in this…jelly.”
The Doctor smirked. “Do you really believe I would do such a thing?”
Lethbridge-Stewart’s eyes narrowed for a split second. “Yes.” He turned his attention back to the mirror. He rubbed his chin and his mustache to be sure he was rid of the disgusting substance. Satisfied, he straightened up and shot another glare at the Doctor. “I was just licked by a giant space dog.”
The Doctor clicked his tongue between his teeth. “Olarkians may resemble canines, but --”
Lethbridge-Stewart held a hand up and snapped, “I don’t care.”
“He was simply ratifying the peace treaty. It was all respectful and above board,” The Doctor replied as if that made everything all right.
Lethbridge-Stewart growled and turned away. He started unbuttoning his wet and slippery uniform shirt. “I’d rather face a dalek,” he grumbled. “Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to finish cleaning up.”
“Nonsense, my friend,” the Doctor said grandly and circled to the Brigadier’s front. He slapped his hands away and undid the buttons himself. “If it’s any consolation, Olarkian saliva does wonders for the skin. You’d be surprised how many planets import it.”
Lethbridge-Stewart was still glaring but he made no move to push the Doctor away. He let out a long suffering sigh. “Oh, that is comforting.”
The Doctor soon had the shirt open and off. He ran his hands down the Brigadier’s arms. “What would you say to the prospect of me licking you?”
Lethbridge-Stewart arched an eyebrow. His voice was dry. “If you wish to return to my good graces, you shall have to do more than that.”
The Doctor grinned. “I love a challenge.”