Chapter Text
“You ready?”
The Doctor’s breath clouds the air and Yaz looks past it, upwards to the lights that are on in number 34, Park Hill. It’s a familiar sight but it’s one that Yaz hasn’t seen in a long time; the fact that her home is just as she left it makes nostalgia claw at her chest just hard enough that she can’t answer the Doctor’s question.
Is she excited? Nervous? Both?
“I think so,” she eventually says. “I’m not sure how I’m going to feel when I see them, to be honest.”
The last thing Yaz wants to do is burst into tears, but she feels like that is a distinct possibility when she sees her mum for the first time in over three years. The mere thought of it is enough to make her eyes sting, but at least she can blame that on the cold weather, because for her mum it’s only been a few weeks since Yaz was last home and it’d be a bit out of character for Yaz to be that emotional.
The Doctor says nothing and instead gives Yaz a sympathetic smile. They’ve spent a lot of time together recently, and she knows how Yaz is feeling, enough that she doesn’t offer some wise words or a clever joke but instead the moral support Yaz needs. That’s partly why she’s here: Yaz has asked her to come because she has no idea how this reunion will pan out, but also because she doesn’t much like being separated from the Doctor at all these days. The feeling seems to be mutual.
“You must think I’m daft,” she sighs, and the Doctor shakes her head.
“Yasmin Khan, of all things you could possibly be, daft is not one of them,” she chides gently.
She’s a lot gentler with Yaz these days, and Yaz reciprocates in kind. It feels good to be on the same page, especially since the Doctor is really the only person who might understand how she feels.
Given how mad they drive her, Yaz has missed her family more than she ever thought possible. Within hours of arriving in 1901, her phone battery had died – not that she could text anybody, anyway – and only then did she realise how much of her happiness stemmed from the semi-constant stream of bickering texts with Sonya, the reminders from her mum of when she was due to visit for dinner, and her dad sending her the latest article from his favourite conspiracy website. She’d lost all lines of communication with them in an instant, and while she’d consoled herself with the fact that they were safely stowed away in the future, three years is a very long time to go without that familiar connection.
Down the street, a pub door opens and several drunken punters spill out onto the pavement, singing Christmas songs as they stumble into the night. Yaz startles at the sudden noise, and the Doctor reaches for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze that Yaz can feel through her woollen gloves. They’re still navigating how to act around one another and have spent the past week trying to figure out where they stand, but it’s safe to say that they’ve made progress. They never used to hold hands, and now they do it all the time. To Yaz’s surprise, the Doctor is usually the one to initiate physical contact.
“I don’t know how you’re not freezing,” Yaz shivers as a sharp wind bites through her coat. The Doctor’s only concession to the chill is her favourite rainbow scarf, but her hands and her shins are exposed, as always. “Come on, we should probably head in.”
But despite her suggestion, Yaz doesn’t move; her feet stay rooted to the spot as she blinks up at her family’s flat once more. She’s decided she’s nervous, after all, and it’s disguised itself as excitement. What a sneaky thing for it to do. The hand in hers tightens slightly, as if the Doctor can sense what she’s thinking. She’s good at that, Yaz thinks.
“Remember, I’ll be there. And I’m usually quite a good distraction if you need one. Maybe we should come up with a codeword. How about…”
“Custard creams?” Yaz supplies, already knowing what the Doctor is about to say.
“Am I that predictable?” the Doctor grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. “Now I just want biscuits.”
“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of those.”
Yaz is already imagining the spread her parents have no doubt laid out. They treat Christmas primarily as a time to eat and spend time together, and Yaz is looking forward to both of those things very much. She could do with a time out, as could the Doctor, not that she’d admit it. Yaz also feels fuzzy inside with the reassurance the Doctor is providing because at face value, it very much seems like she’s bringing someone home to meet her parents. The Doctor has met her family before, of course, but so much has happened in between that Yaz knows she’s going to have a hard time keeping a wrap on just how much has changed since she last saw them.
Everything has changed, including her relationship with the Doctor, which has evolved considerably over the past week alone. They’d dropped Dan home in Liverpool to see his parents, and, with the TARDIS to themselves, the Doctor had told Yaz everything she knew about her past and who she was. Yaz is still processing those conversations, partly because of what they comprised but also because they’ve helped her understand the person currently standing next to her. The Doctor is still reconciling with what she’s learned, too; they’re working through it all together, communicating and talking about things. In the process, they’ve grown closer than they ever were before. With that closeness has come a whole new dimension to their relationship, one they are cautiously exploring. Their linked hands stand testament to that. It’s a simple gesture but it’s symbolic of how much progress they’ve made, and Yaz is thrilled to consider what might come next.
She can’t quite define whatever it is that’s going on between them now, but she knows it’s something she treasures. Consequently, she would quite like to keep it private, but she has a suspicion that her mum is going to pick up on it before the evening draws to a close. She’s already trying to figure out how she could describe their new-found relationship status, and she’s not sure she’s going to be able to provide Najia Khan with an answer she’ll consider adequate.
Still, Yaz is newly buoyed by the reminder that not only will the Doctor be there for the duration, she’ll be an active part of her home life for the next 72 hours. For the first time in a long time, Yaz is home, and she’s going to see her family. She isn’t going to be escaping danger or trying to stay alive; instead, they’re going to be dodging awkward questions from her mum and eating too much chocolate. Together.
While they make their way up the stairs, the Doctor chats away about the 2021 polar vortex rotation and how it’s affecting the temperatures in Sheffield, and Yaz quietly wrangles her nerves into submission. She knows these people, she’s missed them terribly, and now they’re just on the other side of the door Yaz knocks on. She has keys, but she wants to buy herself a little time to adjust and it’s been so long that it feels almost rude to let herself in without asking.
When she hears footsteps nearing, she subconsciously reaches for the Doctor, searching for reassurance, and they’re still holding hands when the door opens and Najia Khan stands before them. Yaz has been picturing this moment for a long time, but the real thing is so much better than her imagination. She stands and stares at her mum in disbelief that she’s finally home.
Najia hasn’t aged a day, but Yaz has. She’s dreamt of this moment for years, and even with a few days of recuperation, this moment is just as overwhelming as she feared it would be. She is speechless. Thankfully, the Doctor isn’t. Yaz wonders if she ever is and she’s grateful for that quality today.
“Hi, Yaz’s mum!” the Doctor pipes up, and she doesn’t let go of Yaz’s hand, keeping them connected as Yaz snaps herself out of her stunned silence. “Nice weather you’re having.”
Najia winces as a gust of bitterly cold air punctuates the sentiment, seemingly oblivious to their joined hands.
“I’m glad at least someone’s enjoying it. Come in before you both freeze to death,” she urges, beckoning them inside. “And please, call me Najia.”
The second the door is closed, Yaz just about manages to stop throwing herself at her mum. Still, the hug she gives her is much longer and more enthusiastic than most of the hugs they’ve shared, and Najia laughs in surprise, puzzled when Yaz doesn’t let go after a few seconds.
“Hello, love. Are you alright?”
Yaz eventually lets her go and Najia scrutinises her at arm’s length.
“You look tired. Have they been working you hard?”
Yaz blinks. It takes her a second to remember she’s technically still a police officer, as far as her mum is concerned. That feels like a lifetime ago; she feels like an entirely different person, now. She hasn’t thought about how she might return to life now that life has calmed down a little, and she doesn’t want to think about it. All she wants to focus on now is spending time with her family, and with the Doctor: the people she loves most.
“Yeah…I suppose you could say that.”
Najia’s scrutiny moves on to the Doctor, and Yaz lets out the breath she’s been holding. She can do this. She’s made it through the door and she’s not burst into tears. That must count as a win, and already Yaz is starting to feel more at home because her mum hasn’t changed a bit. It helps that the Doctor is also being put under the microscope because Najia’s focus is elsewhere as Yaz struggles to remove her gloves.
“You look like you could do with a day off too, Doctor.”
“I reckon so,” the Doctor agrees with a smile, equally vague, and that instantly arouses Najia’s suspicion. Yaz can tell from the way her eyes narrow that her mum has picked up on something; she doesn’t like to be left out of the loop but to Yaz’s surprise, she doesn’t persist in her line of questioning. Instead, Najia suggests they remove their coats and shoes before they head through to join Yaz’s dad and sister in the living room.
It’s only just hit Yaz quite how warm the flat is, and she readily strips off her outer layers, realising too late that they forgot the one item they were meant to bring. Not that she even had a chance to tell the Doctor; they’ve had too many other things to discuss, and it’s completely slipped her mind.
“Where are your jumpers?”
Yaz automatically holds out a hand to steady the Doctor as she kicks off her boots, revealing her stripy socks. These ones are a Christmas present from Yaz from last year – they’re red and green, rather than blue – but apparently even that festive nod to the season isn’t going to cut it. Yaz has forgotten how many weird traditions her family has around this time of year, especially since Christmas isn’t even a festival they celebrate traditionally.
“Mum…” Yaz rolls her eyes, although secretly she’s pleased that nothing has changed. She catches sight of her mum’s favoured Santa jumper underneath her apron.
“It’s a good thing your dad bought you a new one for this year,” Najia says, used to receiving eye-rolls from both of her daughters. “And he’s got one for you, too, Doctor.”
The Doctor has finally managed to remove her outer layers and looks to Yaz for an explanation.
“Tradition. My dad insists we wear Christmas jumpers on Christmas Eve to get into the spirit, since we don’t really do presents.”
“I like your dad,” the Doctor grins, and Najia leads the way through to the living room. Yaz feels her nerves mount as she considers who’s waiting in there for her. Her Nani won’t arrive until Christmas Day, and Yaz appreciates the chance to spread the reunions out a little because she’s missed her grandmother terribly; seeing them all in one room might be a bit too much.
“If I’d known there was a dress code, I’d have brought one from my collection,” the Doctor continues as she follows Yaz down the hall. “One of them even won an award! Although all of that tinsel makes it incredibly itchy. Don’t know who thought it was a good idea to put that inside as well as outside. Then again, that one isn’t as dangerous as the Christmas tree one! That has real candles on it, I nearly went up in flames the last time I wore it…”
The fact that the Doctor has a Christmas jumper collection seems par for the course and Yaz laughs as the Doctor accompanies her the short distance to the living room. Her distraction technique has worked like a charm because before she knows it, Yaz is restored to the company of her dad and her sister. She blinks, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
The Doctor gives her a reassuring touch on her lower back as she steps inside, and Yaz takes the scene in: her sister is sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone as she usually does, and her dad is scowling at the television as the thumbs the remote control with more vigour than is strictly required. It’s like she’s just stepped out of the room for a few minutes, rather than a few years. Disbelief turns to relief, which turns to such overwhelming affection that Yaz is practically bursting with joy at their reunion, even if she’s the only person really feeling it. The Doctor’s hand lingers and Yaz turns to her with a smile; she’s watching Yaz carefully and when she sees her smiling, she responds with one of her own. They don’t need to talk to understand how the other is feeling.
Hakim acknowledges their arrival with a wave, but he’s still grumbling about technology even then.
“This goes on the blink at the most irritating times,” he sighs, fiddling with the remote again. “I swear it’s a-”
“Conspiracy,” Yaz and Sonya supply simultaneously, and they laugh when they realise that they’ve even rolled their eyes in sync. Except Yaz is itching to hug her sister with an energy Sonya isn’t quite matching.
“Come on, I’m waiting!” Yaz tries to joke, but she’s truly desperate for a hug and she holds out her arms, trying to be patient as Sonya rolls her eyes and gets to her feet. As soon as she’s able, Yaz literally grabs her and holds her so tightly that Sonya eventually asks for room to breathe.
“You’re acting like you’ve not seen us in years,” Sonya frowns, although she doesn’t step away. She knows Yaz fairly well, after all, and she’s probably picked up on some of Yaz’s strange energy. For her part, Yaz wasn’t expecting someone to hit the nail so directly on the head and she opens and shuts her mouth without saying a word, incapable of coming up with a comeback.
Thankfully, the Doctor chooses that moment to step in and Yaz adds that to her mental tally of moments the Doctor has helped her out this evening. There will probably be many more, but as the minutes pass and Yaz familiarises herself with being home, she starts to feel more at ease. It still feels like home, no matter how long she’s been gone, because of the people in it.
“Would you like a hand? I’m good with technology. I could boost your signal for you,” the Doctor offers, already rolling up her sleeves. Her sonic is still in her coat, which is hanging in the hallway, but that’s probably for the best.
“Would you? Here, you look after this and I’ll get your jumper,” Hakim hands the Doctor the remote and gives Yaz a kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Christmas Eve isn’t complete without it.”
The Doctor plonks herself on the floor with surprising grace and starts taking the remote apart, and Yaz revises her opinion; perhaps the sonic would have been a better option, although much harder to explain. Sonya watches proceedings with barely disguised curiosity and, satisfied that the Doctor is content dismantling the simple technology and removed from any awkward lines of questioning, Yaz decides it’s probably best to leave them to it. The Doctor seems right at home, which is ironic, really; it’s taking Yaz a little longer to adjust than she thought it would.
“Yaz?”
Najia is in the kitchen, watching over proceedings with a maternal air. She tends to do that; she likes to see what’s happening and be involved in things, even if her family are only just relaxing on the couch while she’s cooking. It’ll be her dad’s turn tomorrow, but Najia has clearly been hard at work making dinner for later that evening. It smells heavenly, and Yaz inhales the comforting aromas of her mum’s cooking as she wanders through. There’s some Christmas music playing quietly on the radio and simply being in the company of her mum, in the kitchen, at Christmas, makes Yaz so nostalgic with happy memories that she pulls her mum into another hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says, hoping her mum doesn’t find the repeated sentiment too weird. But Yaz has to express how she feels. She’s sat on her emotions for too long and now they’re bursting to get out. “How have you been?”
Najia is pleased, if still a little concerned, by her daughter’s affections. They’re normally quite close but Yaz isn’t quite this expressive and Najia is sure there’s something going on to prompt this kind of reaction. What’s responsible, she has no idea, but she’s determined to find out.
“Oh, the usual. The hotel’s been busy with bookings, but I managed to pull some strings and get some extra cover this year.” There’s a mound of crackers and decorations on the kitchen counter beside them, but that’s a task for tomorrow. Tonight’s meal will be about spending quality time together, before the overload that is the formal Khan Christmas lunch.
“Here, do us a favour and take that through to your dad, will you?” Najia passes a mug to Yaz. “And one for the Doctor, if she’d like some?” She has no idea how the Doctor takes her tea or if she even drinks it at all – a reminder that the woman in the living room is still a relative stranger – and she raises an eyebrow as Yaz pours in a liberal amount of milk and heaps in four spoons of sugar.
While it’s not unusual to know how a friend likes their tea, Najia adds it to the list of evidence she’s already started compiling. That list lengthens the moment she sees the affectionate look with which her daughter regards their guest as she sits on the floor, muttering something about confusingly coloured wiring. They don’t normally have guests for Christmas and tend to keep it more of a family affair, but when Yaz had asked if the Doctor could join them, Najia was intrigued to find out why and she certainly wouldn’t say no to one of Yaz’s so-called good friends. Thus far, there have been no real clues as to why the Doctor is there, but Najia can tell that something has changed since she saw her last. Something has changed with Yaz, too; she doesn’t just look tired. She looks older.
Hakim returns with their Christmas jumpers and Najia watches with interest as Yaz helps the Doctor put hers on – apparently her head is a little too big and Yaz has to ease the material down around her ears so she doesn’t catch her earring. Najia does a double take when Yaz helps fix her hair, her hand lingering. The look they share then is so blatant that Najia can read it as clear as day, even from across the room.
She knew it. There is something going on there, and Yaz is trying to hide it. No matter how often they see each other or how long passes in between Yaz’s visits home, Najia still knows her daughter to a degree that only a mother can.
Yaz puts her own jumper on while the Doctor is preoccupied with hers, apparently delighted by the design of skiing penguins. She’s still admiring them when Yaz returns to the kitchen, newly adorned with a very jolly-looking snowman.
“I see dad’s taste hasn’t changed,” Yaz laughs as she scrutinises the design.
“Some things never do,” Najia agrees as she takes a seat by the table. “But something has with you, hasn’t it?”
Yaz sighs as she takes a seat, unable to meet her mother’s eye.
“How are you, love?” Najia asks, genuinely concerned by the subdued response. “And where have you been since I last saw you, again? I lose track of all of these secondments.”
Yaz stares into her mug, her thumb tracing the handle as she contemplates her answer. She feels fresh guilt over the white lies she’s told her mum because to all intents and purposes, she’s simply been away for work. For a second, Yaz wishes she could tell her the truth, and then she considers how her mum might react to the knowledge her eldest daughter was stuck in the early 1900s for several years. Probably best to keep things simple, Yaz thinks. She sticks to the answer she can safely give.
“Devon,” she sighs again, aware that she probably sounds quite petulant. In truth, she’d barely spent any time there once the Weeping Angels had taken the Doctor; once the hologram had activated, Yaz had taken the first chance to leave Medderton and get away from the unpleasant memories that village held.
“It doesn’t sound like you had a good time there.” From one word alone, Najia can glean what Yaz isn’t telling her.
“Yeah. Not my favourite assignment.”
Yaz shoots her mum a sad smile and finally takes a sip of her tea. Najia knows to probe gently. Her eldest daughter has always been headstrong, and she’s only just arrived home for Christmas. But something has certainly changed, and Najia would like to know what is responsible because she doesn’t like to see the sadness in her eyes. Among many other things that Yaz is trying to hide, the melancholy worries Najia most. Yaz had even seemed to be on the brink of tears when Najia first opened the door.
It’s then that the Doctor lightens the mood, completely by chance.
“Get in!” she exclaims. In her hands, the remote seems to have turned into several smaller pieces, and mother and daughter automatically turn to see why she sounds so pleased with herself. Yaz can only hazard a guess, but Najia’s attention quickly diverts back to her daughter; she doesn’t miss the way Yaz’s sombre expression softens when she looks at the other woman. Interesting.
“You seem a little…different, love. Has something happened?”
A lot has happened, but Yaz needs more of a clue as to what her mum is driving at.
“How do you mean?”
“It’s a sense all mothers have. Right now, it’s telling me something has happened for the Doctor to be here today. She’s always welcome, of course she is, but you’ve never invited her for Christmas before.”
It can’t be coincidence that the Doctor is here while Yaz seems so out of sorts, but Najia is curious in what capacity the Doctor is here, and Yaz chooses a more straightforward interpretation of the unasked question.
“She doesn’t really have family. I didn’t think it was good idea for her to be alone, this year.”
That sadness returns, but it paints itself across Yaz’s face differently this time: her jaw tightens and her eyes harden, and Najia knows she has hit upon something else.
Oblivious to their conversation, the subject of it lets out another cheer as she successfully adds 307 channels to their TV. Hakim looks astonished before he breaks out into a round of applause. Sonya even looks up from her phone in mild amazement, and when Yaz turns her gaze to the living room and laughs, Najia senses a pattern emerging. Yaz seems to forget herself when the Doctor is there; she lets down her guard and she lets go of her sadness, too. The Doctor makes her happy, and that thought alone is enough to bring a smile to Najia’s face as she watches her daughter enjoy the domestic scene playing out before them. The change in her expression is so obvious, although she’s never seen her daughter look at anybody quite in the way she looks at the Doctor – carefree, and unguarded, and in love.
So much so that Najia feels like she’s intruding when they look at one another because it’s patently obvious they’ve forgotten there are other people in the room. She remembers vividly how she felt about her first love, and how easy it was to feel like they were the only two people in existence. It makes her happy to see her daughter discover that feeling for herself. Unfortunately, Hakim doesn’t seem to pick up on it at all because he asks the Doctor to fix their smart speaker next, interrupting the moment. Najia makes a note to tell him what’s going on because he’s clearly oblivious to it.
“That sense of mine is also telling me something has changed between you two,” Najia resumes, unable to resist now that the moment has passed. “You are seeing each other, aren’t you?”
Najia has asked this question before and Yaz had bluffed an answer because she obviously wasn’t going to admit to harbouring feelings towards the very same person who was in the room with them. This time, Yaz struggles to answer, but not because she’s in denial of her feelings; she and the Doctor are closer than ever before, but they’ve not even kissed. She blames Dan’s awful timing for that, primarily, but she hasn’t lost hope that it will happen. The Doctor is more physically affectionate, and she’s started talking to Yaz about herself. She’s opening up, and she’s letting Yaz in, and there is definitely chemistry between them because Yaz is certain they’ve started flirting - or at least the Doctor’s version of flirting, which involves sharing food and blankets and lingering touches at every available opportunity.
Nowadays, they hug when they see each other in the morning, and when Yaz goes to bed at night. They spend time together without Dan, doing all sorts of things, and they’ve been to places away from the TARDIS together, alone. They’re almost like dates, Yaz thinks, because on these trips out, they make a conscious effort not to look for trouble or save the day; they’ve done enough of that recently. Instead, they walk and they talk and they take in the sights and the sounds and the smells of wherever they’re visiting, and the Doctor tells Yaz whatever she would like to know.
Yaz only hesitates to call them dates because the Doctor had called it a holiday, a period of rest and recuperation before she took Yaz home for Christmas. The Doctor had been worried about her, and that concern is reciprocated because with what Yaz has learned, she understands much better what the Doctor has been through. They are taking things slow, but Yaz sometimes wonders if she might need to be the braver of the two of them and push them into even more romantic territory, partly because the Doctor is still slightly awkward in that endearing way she has. But the thought of kissing the Doctor literally keeps Yaz up at night because it’s a distinct possibility, more than ever before, and Yaz does not want to fuck it up. To put it simply: she’s stuck.
She also can’t exactly explain all this to her mum, even if she wanted to, but she can at least answer her question because that phrase is vague enough to describe what they’re doing and her mum will not let it drop. She’ll find out before long, anyway.
“Yeah, I guess we are. Kinda. We’re figuring some things out.” Yaz amends when she sees her mum’s face light up in vindication.
“I knew it!”
“Alright, alright, don’t go on about it.”
But Yaz is smiling, a genuine smile, and it warms Najia’s heart to see her look so happy. She decides this evening might be the perfect opportunity to talk to the Doctor about it, and so, when she has finished fiddling with the speakers and Yaz has returned to the living room to help Hakim put up some tinsel, Najia chooses her moment.
“Doctor? Would you like some more tea? Maybe a biscuit?”
Najia has never seen someone move so fast at the mention of biscuits, or the sheer delight that illuminates the Doctor’s face when she sees custard creams on offer.
“Ooh, yes please. Thank, Yaz’s- Najia.” She eats two in quick succession, and Najia worries she’s hungry. She can’t help it – she’s a feeder, and she is glad she took Yaz’s advice to buy several packets of them when she sees how much the Doctor enjoys them.
“Have a seat, and take your time or you’ll get indigestion.”
Najia pushes the packet closer, pleased when the other woman walks right into her setup without any need for convincing. She joins the Doctor by the table once she’s made their tea and in her peripheral vision she sees Yaz looking back in question, but Sonya ropes her into watching a Christmas movie on one of their new TV channels before she can intervene.
“It’s nice to see you again, Doctor. It’s been a while.”
The Doctor stops chewing and swallows with an audible gulp. She’s less subtle than Yaz is, in many respects, and Najia wonders if it’s only just occurred to her who she’s now alone with.
“Sorry. Been meaning to visit but you know what life’s like! Keeps getting in the way.”
That’s putting it mildly, the Doctor thinks. She’s been through enough life to last a lifetime. The memories of Swarm and Azure torturing her with her secret past are still so fresh that she hasn’t even tried to sleep yet. She has a horrid feeling her dreams will be just as tortured, and Yaz needs all the rest she can get; the Doctor does not want to deprive her of it, and so she spends each night alone while Yaz dreams. It’s why she treasures the hugs they share at the start and end of every day, because she so badly wishes that they didn’t need to part.
“Oh, you don’t need to apologise, Doctor. I understand,” Najia sighs. “I know Yaz is working hard. And as much as I wish we’d see more of her, the main thing is that she’s happy. That’s all I ever want for my daughters.”
The Doctor is thrown. She doesn’t really know how to act around Najia because their previous encounters have been almost entirely within the context of dealing with Sheffield’s giant spider problem. Even in those stressful circumstances, Najia had wanted to know all about the nature of Yaz’s relationship with her, and the Doctor realises, too late, that this is probably still a question she is interested in asking.
“Oh,” she says. She tries to hazard a guess as to where Najia is heading but thankfully Yaz’s mum softens when she sees how flummoxed she is.
“Were you expecting a lecture? I’m protective, yes, but I trust Yaz to make sensible choices. We made every effort when the girls were growing up to teach them how to do that.”
At that, the Doctor smiles, but it’s bittersweet. She remembers how much she admires this woman because of who she raised.
“I suppose I’ve never really had a mother to teach me those things.”
It’s Najia’s turn to be lost for words and the sympathy in her eyes is so intense that the Doctor has to look away. She’s never been that good at receiving it. It’s why she doesn’t like to talk about her life, a lot of the time. Yaz is the only person she feels comfortable talking to about it.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”
“It’s alright,” the Doctor tries a smile out for size, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Got on just fine despite…”
She trails off, lost in thought, and for a split second she looks so distraught that it’s very clear she is not fine. She tries to hide it, but it’s too late: Najia has seen it, and it’s enough to have her reaching for the Doctor automatically, laying a tentative hand on her knee. The Doctor doesn’t move, and Najia is relieved she’s not overstepped in her attempt to console her.
The sound of Christmas music fills the gap and Najia thinks she understands. It wasn’t that the Doctor didn’t have a mother; she thinks she must have had one, but that the mother she had wasn’t the mother that any child deserves. She looks at her daughters arguing over something silly – Yaz has changed the channel and Sonya has disagreed with her choice – and she knows she would lay down her life for them.
She suspects the Doctor doesn’t have someone like that, and she resists the urge to hug her. The first time they’d met the Doctor had hugged her, but it had felt panicked; her body language now is closed in on itself. Najia reads the room - a hand on the knee will have to suffice, but she can offer comfort in other ways.
“Would you like another cup of tea? Some more biscuits?”
That seems to pull the Doctor out of it, and she nods.
“That would be brilliant.”
“Four sugars, was it?”
The Doctor grins, and Najia is pleased to know how she takes her tea. It means that she can make her them whenever she comes to visit, and she hopes that will be more often. As she boils the kettle, Najia also sees how the Doctor watches Yaz while she thinks she’s unobserved; she looks just as in love as Yaz does. It is entirely reciprocated, and that cements Najia’s suspicions.
“If this is a difficult time of year for you, you’re always welcome here. Or any time, really,” Najia says as she hands the Doctor a fresh brew and a new packet of custard creams.
“Is this an open invitation for tea with Najia?”
“Absolutely. If I’m right, and you’re in love with my daughter, I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of one another.”
The Doctor chokes on her tea, and Najia no longer has to add to her list of evidence. She pats the Doctor on the back, helping her work through the coughing fit, but the commotion immediately garners Yaz’s attention. Alarmed, she sees the Doctor looking flustered and pink-cheeked and decides they could both probably do with a break. Her mum has probably interrogated her, and Yaz wants to know what she’s said.
“Doctor? You ok?”
“Brilliant, Yaz. Just brilliant.” The Doctor’s ears have turned pink now and Yaz looks at her mum warily. She looks like the cat that got the cream, and she’s definitely up to something because, without another word, she gets up and pulls Hakim out of the room.
Moments later, they return; her dad looks a little shell-shocked, and now Yaz really wants to know what her mum has said.
“What’s going on?”
“I just remembered we need some gravy for tomorrow so your dad’s going to pop to the shops and get some.”
Yaz sees an opportunity and grabs it.
“We’ll go! You can stay here, dad.”
“No, no. You’re our guests,” Najia insists, and Yaz deflates. But she’s still an adult; she can still make her own decisions, and when she sees the Doctor looking flushed she decides to put her foot down, just a little.
“Alright, but we’re still going for a walk, though. Just to get some air.”
Frustratingly, Najia doesn’t budge. Not that Yaz really wants to go to the shops on Christmas Eve, but her mum is definitely up to something if she’s insisting on sending her husband instead.
“Don’t take too long. Dinner’s ready in about half an hour.”
The moment they wrap up and step outside again, Yaz feels like she can breathe. It’s quite full on, having undiluted family time, especially when she has to act like nothing has happened since she last saw them. She can’t even tell them where she’s been or what she’s done, or how she might have helped save the universe.
They head back downstairs in relative silence, which is odd. The Doctor being this quiet isn’t a good sign, and Yaz is worried.
“How did it go with my mum? She can be kind of…persistent. I’m sorry about that.”
To Yaz’s surprise, the Doctor perks up. Whatever her mum has said hasn’t upset her. Something is clearly weighing on the Doctor’s mind, but at least it’s not something distressing.
“It was quite nice, actually. Been a while since I’ve had a chat with your mum. Or any mum really. I forget what they can be like.”
Yaz links their arms together as they start a gentle stroll around the block. She knows this is hard for the Doctor, to think about her own mother. Yaz feels a strange predilection for violence when she thinks about Tecteun, even though she never even met her.
“Mine is very good at getting answers. You’re sure she didn’t put you on the spot?”
The Doctor shoots Yaz an enigmatic grin.
“Your mum is very perceptive, I’ll give her that. But to answer your question: no. She just got me thinking, is all.”
The idea of Najia Khan and the Doctor in cahoots strikes fear into Yaz, in a big way. But the Doctor quickly changes the subject, rambling about television signals, and Yaz has to admit that it might not be a good idea for her to dwell on conversations she isn’t part of. There is a reason she isn’t part of them; she trusts that both her mum and the Doctor have her best interests at heart, and she hopes she will find out in due course what prompted the Doctor to choke on her tea.
Their walk is far shorter than Yaz would like – even after spending only an hour or two at home, she longs for time alone with the Doctor – and with a sense of déjà vu she stands at the bottom of her building, looking up and thinking about the people inside.
“We should probably head back,” she sighs. At least this time around, she’s far less nervous. “I think my mum’s gonna be feeding you up for the next couple of days, just to warn you.”
“Your mum is as awesome as you are. I’m glad you have someone like that in your life, Yaz.”
“And I’m glad I have you in mine. Thank you for coming with me.”
“There’s no better place to be.”
They return to Flat 34 for the second time that evening but as they close the door, Najia calls down to them from down the hall. She’s nowhere in sight, which is odd in itself.
“Stop right there!”
Yaz, mid-way through removing her boots, freezes in place.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tradition!”
“What…” Yaz frowns, completely confused but reassured that there is no immediate danger. “Mum, what are you on about?”
“Look up!”
Yaz does as her mum suggests and groans.
“Since when have we had mistletoe in this house?”
Najia pokes her head around the living room door and smiles.
“Since your dad got back from the shops.”
Yaz can feel her cheeks have already flushed with embarrassment. She can’t believe their first kiss is going to be in her mum’s house.
“Oh my god. Mum…can you at least…”
Yaz flaps her hand and Najia takes the hint.
“Alright, alright. But don’t take too long about it, dinner’s nearly ready.”
“I’m so sorry,” Yaz murmurs, unable to look the Doctor in the eye. But then she hears her laugh quietly, and she gains the courage to look up. The Doctor is watching her with a soft smile. As embarrassed as Yaz is by her mum’s intervention, at least the Doctor is taking it reasonably well.
“Erm...a kiss on the cheek is ok,” Yaz says. “If you want to, that is.”
The Doctor tilts her head and frowns.
“You don’t want…” She points to her mouth, and Yaz almost laughs in relief. This is finally happening, this moment she’s been waiting months for. Years.
“Well, yeah,” Yaz admits. “But there’s no pressure.”
The Doctor’s face lights up, and Yaz knows what she’s going to say before she even says it.
“Brilliant.”
With that, she drops her hand from her mouth and uses it to cup Yaz’s chin instead, gently keeping her in place. When had she got so smooth? Yaz thinks, and then she practically swoons when she sees how dark the Doctor’s eyes have gotten; how close she is. How close they are to one another, moving closer by the second.
“Been meaning to do this for ages, y’know.”
Their noses are still cold from the night air, but their mouths are warm when they meet.
Yaz knows her mum is probably watching, but she quickly forgets about it when she feels the Doctor’s mouth open against hers and she grips her suspenders for balance; she’s getting a bit light-headed but she exploits the opportunity to slip her a bit of tongue, delighting in the pleased hum the Doctor emits in response. She forgets where they are, just for a moment. She feels surrounded by love and warmth and contentment. It’s bliss.
Down the hall, Najia is lingering by the doorway and she peeks out, pleased to see her plan has come to fruition. Behind her, Hakim lingers.
“Did it work?” he whispers. “Had to go round three shops to get some, you know.”
“It worked,” Najia confirms, overjoyed to see her daughter so happy. She’s glad to see the Doctor happy, too. They clearly make one another very happy indeed. “Thank you, love.”
She kisses him on the cheek, acknowledging her gratitude and her own love for her husband, a tender moment that’s interrupted when Sonya sees them, makes a noise of disgust, and promptly leaves the room.
Seconds later she backtracks, eyes wide.
“Oh my…wow.”
Najia laughs. She’s never seen Sonya so speechless.
“Give them a minute, love. I think that’s been a while in the making.”