Chapter Text
“Oof, bit squashed in here, isn’t it?” says the Doctor, sounding very pleased and not at all inconvenienced. She wriggles around in the alcove, trying a number of different positions - her back pressed against the door, then against the wall, then shoulder (well, neck) to shoulder with Ryan - before finally settling on the one where she’s closest to Yaz, her hair brushing lightly against the shorter girl’s cheek.
“Hey, that’s my foot you’re treading on,” Ryan says indignantly, squirming.
“Sorry!”
“Comfy yet?” Yaz tries, as the Doctor keeps shuffling. She hopes the Doctor merely associates the warm glow of her own cheeks with the warmth of the enclosed space, rather than the proximity of the two of them. She knows better than to hope for the same innocence in Ryan; he’s pressed against the corner of the tiny room and gracing her with a very knowing smirk.
“Comfy, yes!” the Doctor finally exclaims as she settles, her hip pressing Yaz’s side. “Yaz, you’re very comfy.”
Yaz’s flush deepens, and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.
“How long will we be in here?” asks Ryan.
“Ah - half hour I reckon,” says the Doctor, with her trademark face-scrunch. Her eyes light up in excitement. “Oooh, can we play a game?”
Ryan perks up immediately. “Sounds good.”
“What game have you got in mind?”
“Hm.” The Doctor taps her chin. “Oh! Oh! Larvisian Ludo!”
“Ludo?” Yaz says. “Isn’t that a board game?”
The Doctor is already digging through her pockets - or trying to, at least. With Yaz pressed against her side, she keeps uttering apologies as her arm moves dynamically against Yaz’s ribs. Finally she retrieves a folded sheet of paper and lifts it high above her head, a wide grin on her face.
“Ten points, Yaz! Think of Earth Ludo and then multiply the fun by two hundred and seventy eight. Also, it’s nothing like Earth Ludo.”
“I’ve never heard of Ludo,” Ryan frowns, eyeing the sheet.
Yaz shrugs at him. “You sorta just… race to the end. By throwing a dice.”
The Doctor unfurls the paper. It hovers of its own accord in the tiny space between the three, folding itself at the corners to fit perfectly. The Doctor fumbles around in her pocket again before her face falls.
“What’s wrong?” says Yaz, instinctively clutching the Doctor’s arm.
The Doctor swears in a language neither of them understand, then straightens again. “Dice! Stupid dice! Forgot to put it in my new coat!” She runs a hand through her hair exasperatedly and the pale strands fall obstructively in front of her pout. “Either of you got a fifteen-sided dice?”
“No, sorry,” says Yaz, her voice lilting with either disappointment or laughter.
“Lost mine on Desolation,” says Ryan.
“Ah, that’s a shame, Ryan.” The Doctor has started refolding the paper, apparently oblivious to Ryan’s sarcasm. Or maybe she’s responding to it. Yaz can never tell.
“Don’t worry, Doctor, we can play a different game,” suggests Yaz, her gaze drawn forward to meet Ryan’s. “Right?”
“Yeah, like truth or dare.”
The Doctor stops fumbling with her pockets to look at Ryan. “What’s truth or dare?”
Yaz grins at the childlike intensity with which the Doctor examines her companion. “Well, you just take it in turns, you choose whether you want to answer a truth - that’s a question - or a dare, where you have to do anything we decide.”
“Oh! Brilliant! You lovely humans and your games. Show me how it’s done!”
“A’right,” Yaz smirks. “Ryan, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Dare you to give me your phone,” says Yaz, eyes glinting playfully.
Ryan holds the device protectively to his chest. “Uh, why?”
“Just do the dare.”
“I dunno, last time I left my phone, the Doctor repurposed it or something.”
“Reformatted!” the Doctor chimes helpfully.
“Well I don’t know how to do that.” Yaz extends her hand. “C’mon, quit being a baby.”
Ryan pouts and drops the phone into Yaz’s open hand. She enters his passcode and swipes onto his text messages.
“Wait, how the hell’d you know my passcode?”
“Ryan, your passcode is ‘1234’. It hasn’t changed since Year 5.”
“Sorry for being consistent,” Ryan mutters.
The Doctor is leaning enthusiastically over Yaz’s shoulder, her eyes wide. “Did he win the dare?”
“No,” says Yaz, “haven’t done anything yet!”
The Doctor watches as Yaz punches out a text message then tosses the phone back over to Ryan with a grin. He takes a moment to examine it.
“No no no no! Yaz! Shit!” He taps frantically.
“What’d you do?” the Doctor frowns.
Yaz is bent over laughing, clutching the Doctor’s side. “Got him a date with Sonya!”
A loud ping erupts through Yaz’s laughter. Ryan curses again. “Why is she always on that phone? She’s responded!”
Yaz howls and the Doctor is laughing now, too. “What’s wrong with Yaz’s fam?” she asks.
“Sonya looks like Yaz!”
“Not following,” says the Doctor.
“I can’t go out with someone who looks like Yaz,” Ryan exaggerates. “She’s not my type.”
“Wow,” says Yaz, “cheers, Ryan.”
“You know what I mean! You’re like my sister!” Ryan pulls a face.
“Type of what? Is this part of the game?” The Doctor says, doing her best confused eyes.
“Aha- no.” Yaz gestures vaguely. Her cheeks tinge with warmth again. “A type of… person. Appearance-wise, mostly.”
“Is it a cool thing to say?” The Doctor presses. “You’re my type?”
“If you like someone, yeah,” says Ryan.
“Yaz, you’re my type. And you Ryan. And Graham. And the TARDIS.” The Doctor tries spreading her arms in an embracing motion but she only succeeds in whacking Yaz lightly on the collarbone.
Yaz almost splutters. “N-No, Doctor, like as in, like like.”
The Doctor frowns exasperatedly, decidedly done with the more superfluous details of human communications. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers curled around the rough exterior of the sonic screwdriver, as if the beeping device might give her some kind of explanation - or consolation. Yaz bites back a laugh. The Doctor can spout facts about every alien planet they’ve ever come across, and here she is poring over a linguistic difference.
Finally she tries: “So, double like? I double like you both. Triple like. Quadruple like. Quint—“
“She means fancies,” Ryan interjects. “When you fancy someone you wanna go on a date with them.”
The Doctor’s lips form a very distinct ‘o’.
“Fancy! Well, wasn’t lying about the TARDIS. Sexy thing.”
“Yeah… What exactly is the relationship there?” asks Ryan.
The Doctor winks suggestively. “Don’t think it’s your turn to ask, Ryan.”
It becomes very difficult for Yaz to pent up her laughter now, and she doubles over giggling, her hand pressed against her mouth. It seems infectious, the Doctor’s wide grin dissipating into a splutter of her own. Even Ryan is doing his best to keep a straight face. But then the Doctor pushes forward and presses her ear against the door and suddenly her hands are clamped against her companions’ mouths.
The heat seeps into Yaz’s cheeks again. The Doctor’s hands are cool for once, annoyingly, and Yaz’s flustered brain searches for some kind of excuse. Quietly, the Doctor releases Ryan but she shifts on Yaz’s side and presses her palm against her forehead.
“Kerblam - men. Didn’t hear us,” the Doctor explains, removing her sonic from her mouth with her now-free hand. “Y’alright, Yaz? Feel a bit hot.”
“Yeah - yeah, fine. Just, uh. Bit cramped in here.”
Ryan is smirking at her again. When the Doctor looks away to pocket her screwdriver, Yaz flips him the bird.
“Yeah, it is a bit,” the Doctor admits. “Don’t worry! We’ll be out soon. Shall we continue the game?”
“Sure,” says Ryan. “You ask Yaz now, Doctor.”
“Brilliant! Yaz! Truth or dare!”
“Er, truth,” Yaz smiles.
The Doctor looks at Ryan. “You only showed me dare.”
“Just ask her a question,” Ryan shrugs. “Anything about her that you want to know.”
“Oh, alright. Hmm. The spiders!” she suddenly exclaims.
“The - what?”
“Spiders. In Sheffield. The big ones.”
“Yes, what about them?”
“Well, not about the spiders. What happened during the spiders. Yaz, when your mum asked if we were seeing each other, what did that mean?”
The following silence is penetrated only by Ryan’s quiet sniggering. Confusion flitters across the Doctor’s gaze again.
“Sorry, was that a bad question? Did I ask it wrong?”
“No, no,” Yaz says, recovering from the cold bout of shock. “Sorry, I had to think. Er, it means… I mean - when two people are - seeing each other, they’re kind of like -”
“Dating,” Ryan supplies helpfully.
“Like the type thing?” says the Doctor, very interested.
“Kind of,” Yaz admits. “So, uh - my mum - she was asking if we were - together.”
“Sexually,” Ryan adds, followed by “Ow!” as Yaz stomps on his foot.
“Oh, I get it,” the Doctor nods, unbothered. She repeats the words happily. “Seeing each other.”
“Ryan, your turn,” Yaz mutters, bright red.
“Alright, Doctor, truth or dare?”
“Ooh, give me a dare, Ryan.”
“Got it.” Ryan pauses. He looks between Yaz and the Doctor. Yaz looks back at him, alarmed by the mischievous glint in his eye, the way the corner of his lips are tugged upwards ever-so-slightly. The Doctor has wedged herself between Yaz and the wall and is pressing a stethoscope against it, frowning as she tries to figure out if the coast is clear.
Ryan coughs uncertainly.
“Dare you to kiss Yaz.”
The Doctor slowly pulls her stethoscope away from the wall and looks at Ryan, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry?”
“I dare you to-”
“We heard it,” Yaz snaps.
“Is that allowed?” the Doctor asks curiously. She’s wringing her hands together. “I mean…”
She meets Yaz’s eyes, and Yaz knows exactly what she means.
Yaz nods slowly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it’s allowed. But you don’t have to-”
She’s intercepted by a gentle kiss on the lips, quick and sweet, while Ryan watches on with a hand clapped over his mouth excitedly. He snaps his fingers and whoops.
“Ohh, Graham owes me a tenner now!”
The Doctor starts laughing against Yaz’s mouth and presses their foreheads together. Yaz doesn’t know if she wants to punch Ryan or hug him, but maybe she’ll do both.
Finally the Doctor draws back, fingers hovering briefly above Yaz’s cheekbones. Yaz stares at her in dumbfounded shock, hands still curled around the Doctor’s hips, eyes wide in a flustered awe.
“Well, did I win the game?” The Doctor smiles softly, taking Yaz’s hand.
“Definitely,” Ryan says quickly, running a hand through his hair. “Whoa.”
The Doctor’s grin widens and she gently releases a still-astounded Yaz to press her ear to the wall again.
“Nope, still out there. Oh! Shall I tell you about Agatha Christie?”
Both companions agree. Yaz stands smiling, tracing miniscule patterns onto the Doctor’s knuckles, as she talks excitedly about a wasp and Agatha Christie and a girl called Donna. And maybe she does rest her head on Ryan’s shoulder for a fleeting moment, utters a thanks into his ear and presses her side momentarily against his as the Doctor keeps rambling.
(She waits until the Doctor looks away before she kicks him in the shin, anyway.)