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Observing the stars isn’t the same without the constant commentary only her golden retriever of a best friend can provide. But, in the chill of the balcony at her family flat, at least she feels a little closer to her.
That doesn’t stop her giving into something that feels a lot like homesickness when she retreats to her bedroom late into the night, the rest of her family asleep in their beds.
The dial tone rings only twice before the Doctor picks up and for a selfish instant, Yaz thinks she might be harbouring the same affliction.
Yaz! Hiya. Everything alright? the Doctor greets and Yaz can already tell she’s grinning. As such, it doesn’t take long for her own smile to blossom.
“I am now,” she answers honestly, lying back against her pillows and admiring the plastic glow in the dark stars still stuck to the ceiling. The Doctor had visited a week prior and organised them into constellations and Yaz had to keep her from doodling their names into the plasterboard as well. “What about you? Am I interrupting anything? I can call in the morning instead if you want —”
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, the Doctor interrupts with a chuckle and the sound of metal clanging in the background alerts Yaz to the fact she’s safe on the TARDIS. I’m just doing some repairs on the ol’ girl, you’re not interrupting. Been to Argon today — It’s like a planet-sized Ikea but for mechanical parts. It’s amazin’, Yaz. The TARDIS is chuffed. Aren’t you, love?
The echoing hum Yaz receives down the line makes her miss her second home even more and her chest aches with a yearning she’s not experienced until this point in her life. “Is that all you’ve been up to today?”
Yep. I was going to go to Theran but it’s not the same when I’ve got no one to show off to, she continues.
Yaz can hear the smirk in her tone. “Yeah? ‘Least you’re honest. What’s on Theran, then?”
Oh, now you’re asking the right questions , the Doctor starts before launching into a winding description which constantly veers off course.
By the time their call dwindles and withers off, the sun has begun rising and painting her bedroom walls in warm orange and yellow but Yaz barely notices.
“D’you think I could come back earlier?” Yaz asks in a hoarse tone at the same time as the sun kisses the horizon.
I think I’d like that, the Doctor answers honestly. Get some sleep and let me know when you’re up?
Yaz rubs at eyes that itch for slumber, words fluid with fatigue. “Eager, are we?”
Perhaps, the Doctor finishes with a coy chuckle. Goodnight, Yaz — wait — morning? Good morning?
“Goodnight, Doctor.”