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Dr. Who Crack Crossover Drabble #2

Summary:

Trouble follows the Doctor everywhere, even Las Vegas in 2007. He just has to drag the Brig in with him. -- Dr. Who/CSI

Work Text:

The Doctor had a truly well used smirk on his face when he stepped out of the bathroom. He only had a towel around his waist and one draped over his shoulders. He let out what could almost be described as a giggle but he didn’t do that. That wouldn’t be dignified.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, still with the stupid smile on his face. He was definitely the more experienced of the two of them, but Alistair had a natural talent: the man’s hands and tongue and the way the mustache tickled. Plus, Alistair went about finding every pleasure spot on his body with military precision and thoroughness.

“I never thought I would say this but there is something to be said about the military mindset,” the Doctor murmured, thinking about all the ways Alistair exploited that knowledge.

Lethbridge-Stewart was suddenly behind the Doctor. His bare chest was pressed up against the Doctor’s back. “What did you say?”

The Doctor shook his head and pressed back. “Nothing.” He heard Lethbridge-Stewart’s sharp intake of breath and took a step away. “Now. Now, Alistair. We just finished. It’s time to get dressed and go sight seeing.”

Lethbridge-Stewart grunted in disappointment. “Oh, Doctor.”

The Doctor grinned and watched drops of water roll down Lethbridge-Stewart’s skin. Tempting, oh so tempting, but he actually wanted to leave their room while they were there. “Come now. Aren’t you just a bit curious about this place? It must be called Sin City for a reason.”

“I don’t gamble,” Lethbridge-Stewart replied flatly.

The Doctor waved that off. “We don’t have to gamble. I’ve always wanted to see the Liberace Museum.”

One end of Lethbridge-Stewart’s mouth quirked up. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?”

Lethbridge-Stewart let out a small chuckle. “Frilly shirts and capes.”

The Doctor smiled sheepishly. “I see your point.” He turned to walk to his suitcase on the far dresser when he almost tripped over something. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “Alistair.”

Lethbridge-Stewart came up beside the Doctor and saw the body on the floor. He sighed. “I see.”

While the Brigadier grabbed the phone to ring the police, the Doctor crouched next to the body. He studied it intently. It looked like a middle aged man but there was something off about it. That didn’t look like human blood pooled beneath it. He barely touched the back of the neck and tried to trace the spine.

“Yes, very good,” Lethbridge-Stewart said shortly and hung up. He turned back to the Doctor. “The police will be here soon. We should get dressed.”

The Doctor straightened up and watched Lethbridge-Stewart pull on a pair of slacks. “I hate to tell you this.”

Lethbridge-Stewart rolled his eyes. “What is it now?”

The Doctor pointed down at the body. “He’s not human.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“Wonderful,” Lethbridge-Stewart said sourly. He snatched his polo shirt from the floor. “Well, get dressed man,” he snapped.

The Doctor retrieved clean clothes from his bag. “This is not my fault,” he snapped back.

Lethbridge-Stewart glared down at the dead alien. “A relaxing vacation, you said.”

“The base physician ordered you to take a week’s furlough. It’s not my fault you were weak enough to give into me when I suggested this.”

Lethbridge-Stewart’s face flushed and he transferred his glare to the Doctor. “At the time, I was not thinking clearly.”

The Doctor grinned impudently at that. “Good thing we remembered to lock your office door.”

Lethbridge-Stewart folded his arms across his chest. “We couldn’t go to Las Vegas in our own time where I could discreetly take care of this. You had to pick fifty years in the future. Well, I suppose we are fortunate we made it at all in that contraption.”

The Doctor swiftly finished dressing and stood in front of the Brigadier, freely invading the man’s space. “It’s called a TARDIS,” he hissed.

Lethbridge-Stewart’s eyes flashed. “It’s still an unreliable contraption.”

Then they were kissing again. The Doctor grabbed Lethbridge-Stewart’s head and plunged his tongue into his mouth. His dual hearts pounded in his ears and there was a fire building inside of him. Damn the man for having such an effect on him.

Lethbridge-Stewart pushed the Doctor away. He kept a hand on the Doctor’s chest and pointed down at the body with the other. He was barely winded. “Remember him?” he asked dryly.

“Yes, our unfortunate guest.”

There was a knock at the door and shouts of police. They eyed each other. “It’s too late now,” Lethbridge-Stewart said quietly. “We have to let them handle it. I’m sure they have a branch of UNIT in the here and now.”

Fifteen minutes later, they stood in the hall. The Doctor let Lethbridge-Stewart answer most of the uniformed officer’s questions. He watched the detective. What did he say his name was…Jim Brass. He saw Brass meet a taller gray haired and bearded man coming off the elevator. Their conversation was too low to hear but he noticed the way they were standing.

After the officer took down the information and stepped away, the Doctor nudged Lethbridge-Stewart. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Brigadier.”

“Yes?” Lethbridge-Stewart whispered back.

The Doctor nodded almost imperceptibly in Brass’ direction. “At least they will not be asking why we’re sharing a room with only one bed.”

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