Work Text:
“Y’scrub up well when you try, Scouse.”
“When you don’t put me in ridiculous outfits, you mean?”
Yaz hides her laugh behind her glass, pretending to drink.
“I think you both look great,” the Doctor says enthusiastically, making Yaz wince at the volume. “And I think I look quite dapper!”
Yaz can see her across the room fiddle with her bow tie. She sticks out like a sore thumb - trousers that don’t reach her boots, a jacket that’s just a touch too big, and a bow tie. Nobody else has a bow tie, and her mask does nothing to help her blend in.
Yaz meanwhile is in a dress; not her go to outfit choice, especially when she just knows there’ll be running, but she was convinced by the presence of pockets, and she quite likes the way the bodice sparkles under the lights. Plus the Doctor had gone silent for a whole minute when she saw her, and she’ll take that as a win.
“Is that what you call it,” Dan jokes, having forgone the bow tie and looking much smarter in his fitted suit. His mask is black to match, although the gems give him fake eyebrows and a comical expression. “Are we able to join in with the dancin’?”
The Doctor hummed. “I don’t see Beynhæk… Go on then.”
“Get in!” Dan says, then realises he’s made people stare. “Sorry, my team just scored.”
Either these people don’t have football or they just don’t care as he gets a couple of weird looks before being ignored again.
“Double tap your palm to deactivate the comm dots, same to turn them on again,” the Doctor says, and Yaz does as she’s told.
She breathes a sigh of relief; being able to stay in contact across the room is so very useful, but she’s always worried she’s going to be annoying or say the wrong thing. It would be just her luck to tell Dan how she feels about the Doctor with the alien able to listen in - whether that’s how infatuated she is or how frustrated she is. The two things seem to go hand in hand.
Yaz allows herself to be swept onto the dance floor, where she finds the Doctor drawing even more attention with her terrible moves. “Doctor!” she says with exasperation. “Come here.”
She realises she didn’t think this through as the Doctor takes her hand and steps in close, her other hand finding Yaz’s waist. Yaz tries to suppress her gasp at the touch.
“Go on then, show me some moves,” the Doctor says. “Or else I’m doing the Macarena.”
Yaz rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Thousands of years old and don’t know a simple waltz?”
“I can do a waltz,” the Doctor says, defensive. Then she pulls a face. “Maybe. Probably. Let’s give it a go.”
Yaz leads her around the dance floor, laughing as the Doctor steps on her toes until they agree that maybe the Doctor should lead instead. She takes Yaz through something like a foxtrot, then they follow the locals, giggling and spinning around the dance floor. It’s almost enough for Yaz to forget their troubles, and definitely enough to forget their mission. She lets go and allows herself to just live in this moment, in the Doctor’s arms.
Eventually though, reality sets in, and Yaz is too thirsty to keep dancing. “I’ll go get us some drinks,” she calls over the music.
“Oh! Take this,” the Doctor says, handing her the sonic. “Give stuff a scan, check it’s safe for humans. Don’t wanna make you sick again.”
“Thanks,” Yaz says.
She pushes through the crowd towards the bar, and gets them some drinks. Dan pops up beside her, complaining about his mask being uncomfortable, when she hears a commotion. She looks around and rolls her eyes as she sees the Doctor being frogmarched out of the room.
“Was that the Doctor?”
“Of course it was.”
“Can’t tell who anyone is in these masks,” Dan grumbles. “I only recognised you because I remembered your dress.”
“Thanks,” Yaz says sarcastically. “Hold these.” She shoves the drinks into Dan’s hands. “And stay here.”
“Be careful,” Dan calls after her.
“I’ll be fine,” she mutters, ducking through the crowd. If she can get Dan and Jericho through the 1900s - which was a challenge even before the assassination attempts - she’ll be fine.
She double taps her palm. “I’m on my way,” she murmurs, slipping through the doors where the Doctor had disappeared.
“Well this isn’t the most friendly reception I’ve had,” the Doctor says in her ear a moment later. “Y’couldve just asked.”
Unfortunately, the comm dots don’t give Yaz the other side of the Doctor’s conversation so she has to try to piece it together as she creeps down the corridor.
“So you’re Beynhæk. You’re a lot shorter than I was expecting.”
Don’t go insulting the bad guy, Yaz thinks with fond exasperation.
“And is that what you call a suit? Red, really?” the Doctor continues, oblivious to Yaz’s thoughts. Then she scoffs. “Mine is better than yours, mate. … I were a different man when I bought the jacket, that is true. This version of me is a bit smaller than I’m used to. Mind you, you should have seen Sand Shoes. Could practically snap him in half.
“One man’s nonsense is another man’s… not nonsense. That one got away from me, yeah. Can you get these goons to let go of me, please? The handcuffs are more than enough. Bit tight, actually.”
The Doctor’s rambling may seem like pointless bluster to others, but Yaz now knows that she’s handcuffed, with body guards standing behind/near her, and Beynhæk is a short-ish guy in a red suit. She reaches another doorway, now able to hear the Doctor out loud as well as through their comms.
She peeks around the corner. The Doctor is standing quite casually in the middle of the room, two large men beside her and three people in front. The red suit is obvious, and Yaz starts planning what she’s going to do next.
“My concern is that your treatment of the Cyanha people is unjust,” the Doctor says.
Yaz can’t quite make out the response.
“Ah, that’s what I were worried about. Y’know, your value is not determined by your wealth, or by your parties or clothes or henchmen or any of that. It’s decided by your actions, by how you treat others.”
“I don’t believe in Allah,” the guy says. Yaz blinks, surprised by the TARDIS’s choice to translate the word into her own name for God. She wonders what Dan would hear. The translation abilities had been dearly missed when they were in the past; luckily Yaz had never removed the universal translator that had been implanted on Epzo’s ship, but it was still tricky at times. Graham and Ryan had been on a few adventures back home and she’s jealous of their ability to use phones as backup.
She suddenly realises that she’s got distracted and isn’t listening to the conversation any more. The Doctor is on the defensive now, her hackles raised like a cat.
“I’d be very careful about threatening me,” she growls. “I might not have my sonic but that doesn’t stop me.”
Oh! The sonic! Yaz quickly pulls it out of her pocket, and a quick buzz later, the Doctor’s hands are free.
She casts around for an idea, then spots a panel on the wall. “Lights out,” she whispers. “3, 2, 1.”
The flick of a switch and the room is plunged into darkness.
By the time the emergency power backup brings them back on, Beynhæk is in the cuffs, Yaz has disabled the computers and his bank account is rapidly draining.
“What have you done?” Beynhæk says. “Who are you?”
“That is my very good friend Yasmin Khan. Isn’t she brilliant?!” The Doctor beams at Yaz, who feels a flutter in her stomach at the praise.
Not the time, she scolds herself.
Honestly, they could be in the gravest danger and one smile from the Doctor and Yaz would become a useless gay mess. She needs to hold it together, she can fantasise later.
“I’ve just redistributed your wealth,” Yaz tells him. She’s about to gloat about what she’s done and how she’d managed to set it up to pay everyone fairly in the seven or so seconds she’d had, but the guy looks so angry he might explode. She turns to the Doctor. “Let’s go.”
She grabs the Doctor’s hand and runs, not looking back. She fumbles in her pocket with her other hand, then points the sonic behind them. There are a couple of oofs and the sound of someone hitting the floor and she smirks, pleased that worked. Pockets were definitely the right call.
They race into the main hall, causing people to startle and start gossiping. They ignore everyone else and Yaz just scoops up Dan on the way to the TARDIS. They make it inside and slam the door behind them, and the Doctor races to the controls. Yaz joins her on the other side and they take off.
“What happened?” Dan asks.
“He’s about to have a very bad day at the bank,” Yaz says, grinning. “Hopefully that’ll teach him his lesson.” Then she pauses. “Wait, we still need to make sure the workers don’t suffer for it. They might have been paid but he could still take revenge, they’re not out of danger yet.”
She turns to the Doctor in concern, but is taken aback when she finds the alien beaming at her. “What?”
“Yasmin Khan, absolutely brilliant.” She blushes, but the Doctor doesn’t linger. “One question, why didn’t they catch us? I thought for sure they would.”
“Oh!” Yaz says, giggling. “I sonicked their belts so their trousers fell down.”
“Definitely brilliant,” Dan says, clapping her on the shoulder.
Yaz looks over at the Doctor, who has a gleam in her eye, and feels her tummy do that familiar flip.
“Well done, Yaz. Saved the day. What would I do without you?”
That makes her tummy do more than a flip and she tries to shrug it off. “Not finished yet. Still need to help get the Cyanha on a more stable footing. We don’t want a repeat of the Good Doctor.”
“No we don’t,” the Doctor says, her expression going steely. “Right then.”
“What’s the Good Doctor?” Dan asks as the Doctor flips switches to change their course.
“You remember Graham, yeah?” Yaz asks, mostly teasing.
“Of course I remember Graham. You’re always going on about Graham. Graham this, Graham that, you treat him like a god!”
“Well, these people thought Graham was a god.”
“What, really?”
“Really really,” the Doctor says. “Built a whole religion on it, used it to silence women.” She pulls a face. “Thought he was the Doctor. Why do they keep doing that?”
“Men,” Yaz says, rolling her eyes. “Who needs ‘em.”
“Oi!”