Okay, here finally is the piece of Doctor Who slash I've talked about for a while. It's been kicking about in my head for a few years now, I even started to write it once, but gave up, let me know what you think

Comments:  This story is set late season eleven.
Title: Military Affairs (1/?)
Rating: PG, but don't expect that to last :-)

Feedback much appreciated heather.smith@btinternet.com 


Military Affairs

by Heather


Benton jumped as yet another door was slammed in UNIT HQ and tensed as he realised the impatient sounding footsteps were coming his way.

"Attenshun! Sergeant!"

Benton leapt to attention at the harsh sound of the Brigadier's voice.  "Yes Sir!"  He snapped out quickly, waiting for the tirade of orders that would no doubt issue forth from the harassed Brigadier. Sometimes it was tough luck being at the bottom of the pecking order.

"Your cap's not straight, your hair's a mess and your boots are filthy, you're a disgrace Sergeant"

"Yes Sir!"

The Brigadier turned sharply and marched out quickly. Benton sighed.  The Brigadier was not a happy man. "Heaven help the first man to cross him tonight" he muttered under his breath as he left to check the patrols.

Alistair sighed. He hadn't meant to be so harsh on Benton, but dammit all, what's the use of being the CO if you can't take out your frustration on the lower ranks. Still his criticism was unfair, Benton was nothing if not conscientious and loyal.  "Time to attack the paper work again" he grimaced, paperwork was just about at the top of the 'list of things he'd really rather not do right 
now thank you very much'  "Oh, and what's top of the list of things you'd *like* to be doing?" a
little voice inside him asked. He ignored it, hoping it'd go away. Not that it ever had done yet of course.

The focus of Alistair's frustration was currently sitting in the UNIT lab, feeling equally irate.

"Damn fool. Closed minded military buffoon."  The Doctor muttered angrily, frowning as he realised he'd lost all concentration. He sighed and put down his soldering iron. He wasn't going to get any further on his repairs to the TARDIS tonight. Perhaps he should go and try and make it up with the Brigadier, but curse the man, he could be so unreasonable. Still, he knew he wouldn't get any work done until he sorted things out. Just as he rose to leave, the Brigadier walked in, evidently he had come to the same conclusion.  The Doctor stiffened as soon as he walked in, he may want to sort things out but he was damned if he was going to make it easy.

"Come back for more Brigadier? I would have thought you'd had enough."  He commented bitingly. 

At once the Brigadier's hackles started to rise, but then he remembered what he was here for.  "I *have* had enough Doctor. That's why I'm here. I've had enough of fighting with you all the time."  He admitted gruffly.

/So he's here to apologise then/ noted the Doctor with surprise, /that's not
like Alistair/.  "So have I. What do you suggest? Kiss and make up?" He asked jokingly.

A strange look came over the Brigadier's face "Something like that".
 
"So then, truce?"
 
"Truce"

"Actually, I was hoping for slightly more than just 'truce' old chap." 

Alistair started, then realised the Doctor was looking for an admission of friendship. He relaxed, but was that a tinge of disappointment he felt? He shook his head quickly. "Friends then".

"For the time being". Was that a promise of the possibility of something more, or just a guarded reminder that he wasn't entirely forgiven yet?

What was that faraway look in Alistair's eye wondered the Doctor, he'd seen it before, but Alistair hardly seemed the type. Mike Yates yes of course, but not Alistair. Was Alistair even away of its presence? Yes! Of course, that was the reason for his brusque manner lately. Hmmm, this evening was growing in potential all the time.....

He took a step towards Alistair, his lips curling into the hint of a smile. The other man stood his ground, wondering (hoping?) where this might lead. The Doctor took this lack of retreat as a positive sign, and leaned closer still, his hot breath sweet against Alistair's lips. Almost automatically he matched the Doctor's action, leaning in himself. Their lips were a hair's breadth apart when he seemed to snap out of his reverie and pulled away sharply almost running from the lab. As the Doctor watched him go, he realised he had been right. The question was, could he make Alistair accept it? 


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