Work Text:
It had been a bad trip.
Most trips on the TARDIS never exactly went as planned – but this had been bad.
Bad enough to end with Yaz in the med-bay.
When she woke with a fuzzy head and a razor-sharp throat after a brief stint of unconsciousness, the first thing she spotted was the Doctor's figure facing away from her on the opposite side of the room. The sight of her stirred up some restrained irritation.
It was their argument that had landed her in this mess. The Doctor’s consistent avoidance and harsh remarks, which were frankly a little tiring now, had left them both distracted enough for Yaz to end up with an arrow in the back.
It had been just Yaz’s luck that the tip had also been dipped in poison. Maybe that was the universe's sick way of trying to tell her something. It certainly wasn’t an act of cupid.
She had promised to let Yaz in. Claimed that she wanted to tell her everything. To close the distance that had kept them so far apart for so long. It felt like she was breaking that promise all the time. And now it had led to this. And Yaz was tired.
Drained but insistent on making her own distance regardless, Yaz attempted to sit up. Unfortunately for her, it was too difficult to suppress a groan into the pillow when she moved as the twist of her back tugged against the fresh wound.
The Doctor’s head snapped around at the noise, and within a second she was by Yaz’s side.
So much for distance.
“Yaz, try not to move too quickly. You might pull the stitches.”
The Doctor leaned over her, chest nearly pressed to Yaz’s back as her cool palms held her in a gentle grip, carefully lifting her into a sitting position.
“M’fine,” Yaz mumbled, contradicting herself when she grimaced with the effort it took to sit up on the bed.
“No you’re not,” the Doctor chided as she grabbed an old blue shirt from the chair next to the bed, her eyes pointedly staying focused on the ceiling.
It took a moment for Yaz to realise why the Doctor wouldn’t look at her. Then she noticed the cool air of the med-bay across her bare chest.
Ah.
In any other situation, Yaz probably would have been mortified. But right now she felt horribly exhausted and she was in pain, so the Doctor seeing her topless felt like the least of her problems. Especially when the air between them felt so thick with tension that she was pretty sure even Karvanista’s axe wouldn’t be able to cut through it.
“Here, put this on.” the Doctor offered the shirt out to Yaz, grabbing one of the sleeves to help her put an arm through.
Yaz was reluctant.
“Give it to me.”
“Put your arm in Ya–”
“I can do it myself.”
The silence Yaz’s words left felt bitter and cold. She could feel the goosebumps on her exposed skin.
Eventually, the Doctor filled it. Her tone unsure. “Okay.”
Handing Yaz the shirt, she took an awkward step back and stuck her hands into the pockets of her coat to find something to fidget with.
Almost instantly Yaz regretted her stubborn nature, but she persisted. It was slow going, but with the use of her teeth to tug the shirt and with the help of gravity, she got one sleeve on. What she hadn’t accounted for was trying to reach the fabric behind her without jarring her injury.
It didn’t go well. She tried to reach around with a grunt and a wince and that was all it took for the Doctor to step back into her space. Leaning to Yaz’s right, the Doctor grabbed the other shirt sleeve and straightened it out for Yaz to slip her arm into. The pain of the movement made Yaz groan, her eyes squeezing shut as the soft fabric slid its way up and over her shoulder.
The minor exertion left Yaz out of breath and sweating as the Doctor pulled the shirt across her chest to cover her up, careful not to jostle her. Though when Yaz felt the tip of a calloused finger push a strand of ruffled hair out of her face where it brushed along her cheekbone, it felt like she had no breath at all.
She couldn’t blame the increase in her heart rate on the poison this time.
In careful motions that felt as if they lasted an eternity, the Doctor pushed a couple more strands of Yaz’s hair aside, not breaking eye contact for a single second. The only sound around them was the quiet hum of the TARDIS and the buzz of different machinery scattered around the med-bay.
Yaz swallowed the lump in her throat when the Doctor finally pulled her finger away to reach into her pocket for a stethoscope.
Lifting one end to her ears, the Doctor hesitated before pressing the chest piece to her skin. “Can I?”
Yaz waited a long moment before nodding.
The chill of the metal drum made her gasp, the gentle pressure against her chest distracting enough that she hardly noticed the Doctor reaching for her wrist to lift it into view and press two fingertips to the pulse point just below her palm.
Her eyes scanned over every feature of Yaz’s face while she listened. She sat stock-still on the bed under the Doctor’s careful scrutiny. Satisfied by the steady beat of her heat, the Doctor lowered Yaz's wrist and stepped incrementally closer. The chest piece remained pressed to her skin while the Doctor held Yaz still by gently cupping her upper arm.
The cool metal moved a little lower, resting over the side of Yaz’s ribs.
“Breathe in slowly for me?” the Doctor softly requested.
Yaz followed her instructions, struggling a little the deeper she inhaled. A small cough caught in her throat, the contractions making her wince with the tug on her stitches.
“And breathe out.”
Yaz let the air out through her mouth, gripping the edge of the bed to push through the ache in her back.
“Good. Well done, Yaz. Still a bit of a rattle I can hear and your lung capacity isn’t back to 100% yet but a few more hours and it should be back to normal. The antidote is still working hard.” The Doctor draped the stethoscope around her neck and cleared her throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Yaz sighed.
The Doctor’s lips pulled tight as she nodded, realising it was probably a bit of a stupid question to ask.
She stood awkwardly for a moment before reaching up to grasp the collar of the old shirt, pulling it closer over Yaz’s chest to keep the chill out. Her fingers reached for the buttons next, slowly fastening the first one before making her way down the rest.
Yaz was stunned into silence by the gesture.
On the third button down, the Doctor spoke again. “I’m still not sure what kind of poison it was on the tip of that arrow, but the TARDIS is breaking it down now so we should have an idea soon of wha–”
“Why?” Yaz finally interrupted, her voice still hoarse from the earlier coughing fits the harsh poison had struck her with.
“Hm?”
“Why are you being so nice now?”
“What do you–”
“Bit of a change in attitude from earlier isn’t it?”
The Doctor paused on the fourth button and let out a sigh. It sounded horribly sad.
“I’m sorry, Yaz.”
“You promised me,” Yaz responded instantly.
“I know.”
“And you keep breaking it.”
The Doctor was silent for a beat, gaze burning into the button she was halfway through fastening. “...I know.”
“Look what it's doing to us.”
“...I know.”
“You keep saying you know but you’ve not done anything to change.”
“I–” the Doctor closed her mouth, stopping herself from parroting her own words again.
The Doctor still hadn’t met Yaz’s tired gaze, her eyes wandering to the open door of the med-bay, and for a moment Yaz thought she was going to run away from it all again. But the Doctor instead paused like she was listening out for something. All Yaz could hear was silence. It seemed to be the same for the Doctor, too. Wherever Dan was on the ship, the TARDIS had made sure they were very very alone.
Perhaps Yaz wasn’t the only one that was sick of the Doctor breaking her promises.
Finally, the Doctor looked up. Yaz was always surprised to see tears in her friend's eyes.
“Yaz… I get so scared,” the Doctor whispered, her pupils glistening in the fluorescent light of the room.
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
“But you are.” Yaz disputed, “By pushing me away you are. ”
The Doctor out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to Yaz’s lap. She clearly hadn’t considered that.
“I–” the word sounded watery on the Doctor’s lips. A second later something hit Yaz’s thigh and a damp mark was absorbed into the fabric of her jeans. “I kept trying to push you away to keep you safe and look what happened. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
The Doctor looked up with damp cheeks and a trembling lower lip. The sight was a first for Yaz, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Yaz.” she shook her head with a sniff. “I can’t lose you. I really really can’t.”
It was a strange feeling, hearing the Doctor admit something so raw and so desperate. It made Yaz’s heart flutter in her chest to know the Doctor really was just as terrified at the concept of losing Yaz as Yaz was at the concept of losing the Doctor. Yaz knew why she felt the way she did now, thanks to Dan's gentle nudge.
But the Doctor — she wasn’t so sure. Or she could be sure, but the concept felt too insane to consider. There was simply no way.
The quiet ruffle of fabric meant the Doctor was buttoning up the rest of Yaz’s shirt, though when she took a quick glance down, it was now with shaky hands.
“Doctor?” Yaz asked carefully.
The Doctor paused again, she was on the last but one button, her gaze focused on her trembling fingers.
“I’d really like you to let me in.”
Shoulders sagging, the Doctor fastened the final button and moved her hands to rest on Yaz’s thighs. Her left thumb brushed left and right over the fabric and slowly, she lifted her head.
The Doctor’s eyes were still wet when she nodded.
“Okay, she breathed into the space between them. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Yaz repeated back, just as quiet.
“We’ll go to the beach. Tomorrow. Just me and you.”
Yaz swallowed hard. Scared to utter the word on the tip of her tongue. “Promise?”
The Doctor licked her lips in a nervous tick but nodded in assurance all the same. “I promise, Yaz. I really do promise. Cross my hearts.”
Yaz huffed through a small smile. “You better.”
The Doctor smiled back, teeth peeking between her lips. “I’ve got so much to tell you. So much I need to say. So much I want to say.”
Yaz found one of the Doctor’s hands on her thigh and lightly squeezed. “Me too.”
“Good. Right, well, I’ll go make us both a cup of tea now you’re up. Might make you feel a bit better.”
“Can’t I–”
“I don’t want you leaving this med-bay until all the after-effects of that poison are gone. Understand?”
“Fine,” Yaz groaned.
“I won’t be long okay?”
For a moment the Doctor hesitated, shuffling on her feet until she braved leaning forward to press her lips to the corner of Yaz’s mouth. Yaz sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the Doctor’s lips soft and warm against the edge of her cheek. When she pulled away, her lips morphed into the most gentle smile and her eyes were full of warmth, the flecks of colour surrounding her pupils reminding Yaz of blooming sunflowers.
“You stay there,” she spoke softly, hands lingering on Yaz’s thighs as she pulled away.
“Uh-huh,” Yaz nodded, brain still catching up with what had just happened and unable to form a sentence over the pounding in her chest.
Then the Doctor was gone, and Yaz was still left speechless. Maybe the concept of the Doctor’s fear being the same as Yaz’s wasn’t so insane after all?