Work Text:
Yaz sat, collapsed in upon herself. Her arms locked her knees close to her chest, her breathing was shallow, shaky, self-loathing poisoned her only sense of stability. Tears welled in her eyes and fell, leaving her cheeks damp and cold to the air.
The tears were pathetic and if Yaz had any control over them she would’ve ended them by now but the thought of how pathetic and out of control Yaz felt was enough to make the tears more persistent. She hated herself for it. Her stomach was uneasy from the sobbing, her calves were riddled with imprints from where her nails had clamped down on her legs for so long, her cheeks were tear-stained, her hair was a disheveled mess, she looked awful, and it caused her jaw to tighten and her stomach to churn.
Though, that was parr for the course for her, wasn’t it? Yasmin Khan, awful, pathetic Yasmin Khan.
She hadn’t intended to find her way back here, hadn’t intended to spiral so far, just another reason to hate herself, she supposed. She hadn’t intended to break down onto her bed, to shut down after she realized that the Doctor thought her plan for their most recent adventure was dumb, to wake up from another dream circling around Izzy Flint. But regardless, here she was.
She hated this.
Her doorknob turned and her door swung open, then footsteps. It was the familiar cadence of the Doctor’s boots on her bedroom floor. But unlike her, she hadn’t said anything.
Yaz didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything just sat there staring at the yellow wall in front of her.
The Doctor’s steps came to a stop. “You look like you need a hug.”
Yaz took in a sharp breath through her nose and only tensed up when it sounded like sniffling. Great, now the Doctor knew that she’d been crying. “I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Didn’t say y’weren’t, jus’ that you look like y’need a hug.”
Yaz’s eyes stayed focused on the wall in front of her. She didn’t want to talk or show her face. She just… wanted to sit there. There was the sound of fabric rustling behind her followed by two thuds, then the soft padding that trailed up to her bed. “Scooch.”
Yaz didn’t move, eyes stinging with tears. She wanted to lie, wanted to hide away, deny that she was upset, deny that there was anything wrong, push the Doctor away. But something in her broke and she sighed. She shuffled and moved over until she was far on the other side. The bed dipped behind her and some of the tension left her.
A hand hovered above Yaz’s waist and Yaz nodded. The Doctor’s hand fell to her waist and snaked around it. “C’mere.” She pulled herself close to Yaz and Yaz raised her head so the Doctor’s other arm could rest underneath her head. The hand on her waist traced patterns, memorizing the skin beneath it. That worked to slow her heart, slow her breathing.
“Y’don’t have to talk about it, okay, jus’ know that I’m here for you. But we can talk about it if that’s what y’want.”
Yaz moved her hand from where it rested to the one draped over her waist and grasped it. A silent thank you she hoped the Doctor could understand. The Doctor’s hand turned until they were palm to palm and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Yaz’s hand.
Yaz let out a sigh and closed her eyes. She pushed herself up and flipped until she was face to face with the Doctor. The tears had slowed but they picked up their pace when she saw the Doctor’s pained look.
The Doctor reached out a hand and softly wiped away a tear before letting her palm cup Yaz’s face.
“I jus’.” Yaz squeezed her eyes shut and held them shut, knowing that she wasn’t going to want her eyes open for whatever was to come. “I’m… ugly, stupid, pathetic.” Her list was short but she said each word with the intention of letting it hang in the air and all it did was cause her to start sobbing. She rested her forehead to the Doctor’s chest. “I hate myself.”
“Don’t say that.” The Doctor’s voice was so broken, “My sun, you’re gorgeous, absolutely stunning. Every time I see you my hearts stutter. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Yaz felt the soft fingers of the Doctor’s card through her hair, while the thumb on her cheek rubbed lightly at her skin. “And you’re so brilliant. I mean, remember the time with the Solitract? Y’suggested to reverse the polarity. That’s genius, Yasmin Khan, proper genius.
“And you care so much so much about others, when I first brought you back to Sheffield you invited me over ‘cause you knew I was lonely, ‘cause you cared that I was lonely. And you’re always there for me when my demons come to haunt me, even when it was a lot. You stick with me through everythin’ regardless of how it’ll affect you—and it upsets me, but not ‘cause you’re stupid but ‘cause I don’t want to see y’gettin’ hurt. That’s why I shot down your idea earlier, I were worried that you were gonna get kidnapped—but you stick with me to make sure I never go through nothin’ alone. You’ve been ‘ere for me even when it’s hard on you.
“You’re lightyears from ugly, or stupid, or pathetic, Yasmin Khan, brilliant, stunning Yasmin Khan, so please don’t dare to even think it.”
By the time the Doctor had finished Yaz wasn’t crying. She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped but she had. Her face was nestled into the crook of the Doctor’s neck, breathing in that familiar, grounding scent; metal, smoke (only when she got into a row with the TARDIS—which happened more than the Doctor wanted to admit), oil, and a hint of vanilla (but only after Yaz could tempt her to a shower with her). She let out a deep breath.
“You’re not pathetic or worthless or despicable, my sun. You’re proper brilliant, in all every definition of the word. And I love you so, so much.” She placed a gentle kiss on Yaz’s cheek.
Yaz wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s upper back, dragging her closer until they were flush against each other and she couldn’t tell where she began and the Doctor ended. All she could tell, however, was that the hatred that burned her was slowly, surely, smothered by the Doctor’s embrace and with that the tension in her muscles, the knot in her stomach wilted away. “I love you, too.”