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Yaz knew she was in a bad mood from the very moment she woke up. When she was a teenager, her mum had always told her that she'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, which, in her teenage misery, she’d thought was a particularly unhelpful phrase; as an adult, she realised it was a more polite way of saying that someone was being grumpy for no particular reason.
But this morning, Yaz knew the reason behind her dour mood. She'd been working all week and was exhausted. Work itself had been draining and unfulfilling and she was frustrated that it had depleted her energy reserves in time for her weekly meet-up with the Doctor. The Doctor had taken one look at her and insisted she get some rest before they went anywhere. It hadn't helped that the clocks had changed and the days were getting shorter; Yaz was definitely starting to feel the detriment of less and less daylight as Sheffield edged into winter.
But the Doctor seemed to be immune to such trivial matters. When Yaz emerged from her room she was humming happily to herself as she stood at the console, bent over at the waist as she inspected something Yaz couldn’t see.
The moment she stepped into the room, the Doctor's head shot up. Yaz would normally have been delighted to see her, especially wearing what she was at that moment - one of her favourite items of headgear, which included a magnifying glass - but this morning the effect was somewhat muted.
“There you are. Morning, Yaz,” the Doctor grinned, and her smile faltered only slightly when she saw that Yaz’s enthusiasm hadn’t picked up.
“Rough morning, eh?”
“You could say that,” Yaz admitted. She knew she should make more of an effort but she couldn’t help it; she really had woken up on the wrong side of bed.
“You’re up early,” she noted, nodding towards whatever the Doctor was inspecting in silent question.
“Am I? I hope I didn't wake you. I was full of beans this morning so I just had to get started. Never quite understood that saying, though. Beans aren't particularly energetic.”
Yaz yawned, despite her best efforts to hide just how knackered she was. She was running on fumes, a fact that was made patently obvious when she realised just how low-energy she felt compared to the Doctor.
“No. Just a bad sleep,” she sighed, rolling her shoulders. She had slept for hours but it hadn’t made much difference.
The Doctor scrutinised her face.
“You alright, Yaz?” She took off her headgear, leaving strands flying everywhere. That prompted a smile and Yaz wandered over to fix her hair out of habit. Being around the Doctor rarely failed to cheer her up, but it was taking a little longer than usual, today.
“Yeah. Just a bit...meh.”
Yaz wished she could describe her feelings more explicitly but that particular one at least seemed to succinctly summarise how she felt.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t think so,” Yaz shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
“I have an idea,” the Doctor replied. “Might be a bit rusty but I have a huge back catalogue of material.”
Yaz, who had been expecting a good morning kiss, raised an eyebrow in question.
“Ahem. What's an astronaut's favourite key on the keyboard?”
The Doctor waited, clearly expecting Yaz to guess the answer. But Yaz, who was still feeling lethargic, couldn’t think of one.
“No idea.”
“The space bar!”
The Doctor grinned, clearly pleased with herself.
“Was that a joke?”
“Was that a- yes, that was a joke!” the Doctor tutted. “And there are plenty more where that came from. I have a new theory on inertia but it doesn't seem to be gaining momentum.”
There was a beat; then Yaz got the punchline and rolled her eyes.
“What has got into you today?”
“You seem a little sad, Yaz. Thought a joke might make you smile. Did you know you should never trust an atom? They make up everything.”
Yaz groaned but she started to smile. The Doctor’s enthusiasm was infectious and she was more than a little touched by her very Doctor-y way of trying to cheer her up.
“Yeah I know I make horrid science puns, but only periodically. And I know another one, it's on the tip of my tungsten.”
Yaz groaned again, more dramatically this time, as she realised the Doctor’s terrible jokes were working.
“Oh god, not more puns.”
The Doctor stepped closer until there was no space between them. Yaz knew she wouldn’t be able to escape the next joke.
“Want me to switch it up?” The Doctor waggled her eyebrows. “If I were an enzyme I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your jeans.”
“Doctor!” Yaz wasn't expecting a lewd joke and it succeeded in teasing out a genuine laugh. “You aren't getting anywhere near my jeans at this rate.”
But she felt better already, despite her protestations.
“That's what I wanted to hear.” The Doctor’s silly expression softened.
“What?”
“Your laugh.”
“Oh.” Yaz was momentarily lost for words. The Doctor had caught her off-guard.
“I reckon it's the best sound in the universe.”
“You sure about that?” Yaz murmured, wrapping her fingers around the Doctor’s braces and finally kissing her good morning. She smiled as she felt the Doctor sigh into it. “I might actually let you near my jeans now.”
“Well, then. Let's test my hypothesis, shall we?”