Actions

Work Header

51st Century Chips

Summary:

Yaz wants to go home, yet for some mysterious gay reason that we do not know, the Doctor just refuses.

OR

After going to meringue world and a 12 day holiday Yaz wants some answers.

This may be a two-parter- we shall see, this is NOT unrequited because I don't think anyone is emotionally stable for that kinda stuff.
Always welcoming feedback etc!

Work Text:

“So Yaz where we off to then?”
The Doctor looked down, fiddling with the TARDIS controls, feeling the burn of Yaz’s eyes on her. It was a few moments before Yaz decided to reply. They had already been to meringue world, and after twelve days on the latest beach world (half price discount and a free plus 47 with a 200-year membership meant a win win for the Doctor), Yaz needed closure.
A lot of closure at that.

“Can you take me home?” The Doctors shoulders stiffened slightly. Yaz couldn’t tell if the Doctor was afraid of the word home because she no longer had hers, or if the Doctor was afraid of home because Yaz wanted to go back to hers. Yaz realised Jack had been wrong: you could pick and choose when to leave the TARDIS, the Doctor, space- just like Ryan and Graham had. No, instead it was much worse: you didn’t get to choose whether to love the Doctor and just walk away from her. And Yaz, so effortlessly innocent Yaz was staring, pleading at her Doctor, having no idea that the only home the Doctor had, was the effortlessly blind Yasmin Khan, and neither was ready to walk away just yet.
Yet neither were ready to walk forwards either. They were at a romantic stalemate.

“Yeah sure you can go home, what day? 12 days ago, twenty? Future or past? Or we can try and do both at once! I bet the old girl hasn’t done that for a while! If you like we can go to Planet Kriel, get your Dad a cool alien souvenir, or shall I say rad? No wait, cool, no sick, no poorly, oh it doesn’t matter. I bet we could get your sister something too whilst we’re there! And I have the perfect place for your Mum and Umbreen. A shopping trip eh?... We never go shopping, how about… the shopping adventures of the Doctor and Yaz? Too cheesey?.... Too cheesey.”
Yaz watched in admiration, her eyes smouldering under the glistening haze of the TARDIS light, her heart humming against the heavy throb of the ship pulse, both content, both lovingly smiling as they watched the Doctor grumble and ramble and press buttons here and there like an eager five year old in the arcade.
And so Yaz didn’t go home that day. Nor the next. The Doctor would end up saying it was because of the intergalactic watch on Kriel; Yaz would end up saying it was because the Doctor was scanning for irregular activity, and when that didn’t work she purchased the newspaper, called The Moon. Much to the Doctors glee and Yaz’s apprehension, Boyzog-59 was on the run in Kriel.
The only good thing that happened on that day was when the Police Officer (well the only term Yaz could define him as) commented how her and the Doctor made a lovely duo and were a great couple together. Even Boyzog-59 raised his matted eyebrows at the ever so speechless Doctor as he clambered into the space cart.
It was safe to say the Doctor once again hated conspiracy theories.
Oh, and a second bonus was that Yaz did get a lovely watch for Hakim, recommended by the Police Officer, which the Doctor, for some reason was against buying it. For some reason.
Of course, Yaz didn’t complain or say anything when the Doctor recommended a small American Diner in the 51st Century that evening.

“I do love a classic chip.” The Doctor said. Yaz and the Doctor were hidden in the corner of the restaurant (Yaz had a slight suspicion they were hidden because the Doctor was hiding from something she wasn’t sure of yet, maybe prison-related? Or master related? Or dog-related who knew?). Coats draped on the chairs where Ryan and Graham would have once sat, the Doctor slumped back on her chair twiddling with her sonic as they waited for their food.
“I’m surprised they even did chips in the 51st Century.”

“Oh they nearly went out of fashion in the 49th Century. But I managed to bring them back into fashion.”

“How?” Yaz raised her eyebrows, no longer afraid of asking questions, or the slight discomfort painted across the Doctors face as she failed to look at her companion in the eyes.

“Oh you know, me and my friend Rose, we went to the local chippy in 2006 and travelled into the year 4879 and showed all the locals of what chips used to be. Everyone went mental for them.” The Doctors lips curled, and Yaz wondered if she was imagining her friend Rose here instead of her, who was now stuck in a parallel universe, never having met this Doctor- her Doctor. “Rose always said they were the best chips in London.”

“No way.”

“Yeah! Even brought sauce with us.”

“So out of all the things you could have done, you saved the existence of chips.”

“What is the point of the universe without chips in them?”

“I will second that.” The waiter commented, nearly making them jump out of their seats. The waiter smiled knowingly, wondering if Yaz or the Doctor could tell if the other one had forgotten the universe’s existence as they spoke. Did they know they loved each other? Or was it just a 2006 thing? “Well, here you go aliens, enjoy your chips.” And with a wink, the waiter strutted off.

“Oh thank you by the way!” The Doctor called out, giving a small yet futile wave and the waiter was no more, just lost in an endless sea of aliens. It seems, chips were quite the speciality.
But who could blame anyone? Carefully cut, with a golden crisp, Yaz’s mouth was watering from the aromatic smell of salt, oil and sage? The Doctor harmoniously passed Yaz the salt in sync with Yaz passing down some apple tasting brown sauce- like they no longer had to speak to flow, like they were one yet none yet the universe itself. The Doctor often wondered if Yaz really did know, out of anything- more than chips, more than a Rose who didn’t smell as sweet anymore, that there would be no universe without her.
Yaz watched the Doctor devour the chips, she wasn't hungry, not even the 51st Century cuisine was giving her an appetite. The only thing she wanted to say was if she had taken Jack to dinner here. So she did:

“Doctor?”

“Yaz.”

“Did you ever, like, I don’t know- take Jack here for dinner?”

“What did he tell you?” The Doctor didn’t look up, she just kept eating. The Doctors body felt like jiving in tune to the circadian rhythm of her hearts. One happy, one sad, one happy, one sad, then sad sad sad, happyhappyhappy happy-sad, happy-sad, sad, sad, happy, happy- sad-happy-

“Doctor?”

The Doctor up to be greeted with Yaz’s piercing eyes staring into her concerningly. “What did I miss?”

“I said Jack didn’t say much other than he was from the 51st Century, but I’m guessing he took you here.”

“Actually I have you find, I took him here.” The Doctor froze. Busted. Yaz smirked and folded her arms in satisfaction, the Doctor should have known Yaz was too clever for her own good. Threaten the Doctors ego then all hell comes loose. The frustration that Yaz was pushing her buttons was refreshingly cool, like ice rain pooling into the cracks of her softening reserve. It shouldn’t have been welcomed, the Doctor should have rejected Yaz’s interrogation but after 30 years of loneliness, emotional intimacy with the best person in the universe was strangely appealing. As the Doctors eyes glazed over Yaz, her hearts were still, swaying like a tree in the mid-summer breeze.
Happy. Happy. Happy.

“So you took him here? Before or after Rose.”

“Why do you think I take everyone here?”

“Because it looks like you take all your companions here.”

“Not everyone.”

“Is that so?”

“I took Jack here once and Rose here twice.”

“That sounds like favouritism to me, if Graham and Ryan were still here would you have taken them here once and me twice.”

“Why are you asking this?”

“Because you recycle us, we do the same adventures, go to the same places as everyone else you once had and look where they are now.” Yaz hissed anger in her words, pain in her heart and tears swelling in her eyes. The Doctor ached to reach over and wipe those tears away. But she couldn’t, couldn’t hug her, friendly touch her. One-touch would unravel all the tissue paper wrappings of her onion skin reputation she had made sure to keep up with the fam. Yet the fam was no more and all she had, all she needed and ever wanted was right in front if her, crying silently like a moonlit shadow flickering under heavy fire. The Doctor wasn’t ready to fall in love all over again, yet somehow, she knew she wasn’t getting a choice anymore as Yaz pinged away her tears, crossed her arms and stared down at the salt jar defeatedly.

“No one has ever been copies, humans are so different and irreplaceable. You are irreplaceable Yaz.” The Doctors voice grew huskier and quieter and Yaz looked up with uncertainty, disbelief, fear. It gave the Doctor all the more courage to carry on. “I don’t just flick through a catalogue and choose who I want to travel with, although you can order them from 7670- wouldn’t recommend because most of them are assassins. Anyways my point is I don’t find you lot, and you lot never find me. We find each other, we live and save worlds and then we don’t. We travel to different places that other companions haven’t experienced before. I just wanted to take you somewhere special.”

“Special?”

The Doctor half-smiled, half-sighed. “Everywhere I take you is special Yaz.”

“You mean that?”

“If there’s one thing for certain is that, yes.”

“You wanna come round for mine at tea? Everyone will be dead excited to see you.” The Doctor’s face lit up like New York city and she early bounced on her chair like a happy puppy. The Doctors heart were slowly bursting, love seeping from their seams. The Doctor had a home; she was finally going home.

“That sounds brilliant.”
Yaz gulped slightly, heat rose to her cheeks and she grinned like a teenager who had been asked out by their crush. The human stood up and motioned to leave which the Doctor complied. Whilst strolling back to the TARDIS Yaz couldn’t help but feel the Doctor walk closer to her, their hands brushing, their hearts melding like cosmic blues, reds and whites. Yaz didn’t need to say anymore. They were going home, together.
She had closure.
Thank God for 51st chips.

Series this work belongs to: