Chapter Text
"Second-floor window has been smashed in, the call came in three minutes ago. I'm going for the main entrance. Jones and McIntyre, establish a perimeter around the building. Khan, take the back." dispatches PC Taylor, the oldest officer of the group that responded to the emergency call.
With a mumbled complain, PC Yasmin Khan takes off towards the back of the science museum's main pavilion. She graduated from being probation barely a few hours ago, after two years of settling parking disputes and patrolling harmless public events in Sheffield. Starting her first day as a real police officer with a break-in call is a challenge, but a welcomed one. A mix of excitement and adrenaline bubbles in her chest, while she runs to cover her assigned entrance.
Barging into an interior yard, she narrows her eyes against the flashes of light coming from the second floor of one of the buildings. A shrilling alarm tears the usually quiet atmosphere surrounding the museum at night, drawing an uncomfortable wince from Yaz. She approaches the source of the noise, eyes scanning for any sort of exits or places where a suspect could be hiding.
Metallic stairs painted red by a mix of old age and rust appear to be the only way out, and she tentatively drops her palm against the handrail. The surface is cold in the early fall weather, and she cringes with the dust coloring her fingertips. Looking up, Yaz spots the broken window a couple of floors over her head and she begins her slow climb of the suspiciously squeaky steps.
Once she reaches the second floor, she cups both hands around her face, pressing her nose against an intact part of the glass. She watches a few employees run along the walls, touring the exhibit as they yell instructions at each other - in what seems to be a poor attempt to catalogue the artifacts in the room - when PC Taylor comes running through the main door. The first man who notices her lets out a loud screech, pointing and reaching for his phone in panic.
The next events happen in slow motion in Yaz's brain, but unfold too fast for her coworker to offer any help. Startled by the scream, she leaps backwards and feels her spine collide with the railing behind her. The rust-covered metal protests with a loud, high-pitched sound before giving away, leaving Yaz to free fall from the second floor.
Covering her head with her arms, she realizes that the impact with the ground will probably involve a significant amount of damages. Yaz barely has time to spare a thought for her ever-worried family, before her back hits a surface that's much softer than she imagined. Her head bumps against the pavement, and she groans at the rattled shock flooding her brain.
"Ow."
Yaz blinks, surprised by the foreign sound, before gasping when she understands how she escaped any major injury. Scrambling to her knees, she freezes when she’s hit by a wave of dizziness that turns her legs weak, sending her back to her previous position, sprawled over a stranger.
"I'm so sorry." Forcing the words out of her nauseous mind takes every bit of Yaz's concentration. "Give me a minute and I'll stand up."
"You really shouldn't be moving." The stranger objects, reasonably. "You hit your head pretty hard."
"I'm squishing you." Yaz remarks, gesturing to the way her upper body is draped across the blond woman's stomach.
"There are worse things in life than being squished by a pretty girl." She shrugs with the hint of a smirk, despite the painful throb echoing from her right foot to her knee.
The casual flirting gets a snicker out of the police officer, taking her mind off the hazy blur slowing her thoughts. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head too?"
Before the other woman can answer, a sudden chaos of rushed movements, loud voices and flashlights traveling through the yard interrupts their conversation. The combination forces Yaz to narrow her eyes in an attempt to save her brain from the overwhelming stimulation.
Her efforts are useless, and she frowns when her vision tunnels to PC Taylor. The officer visibly shrinks against the contrasting light shining behind her back, her hurried walk in Yaz's direction seemingly slowing down. Before she can understand what's happening, the younger woman loses consciousness.
***************
The first thing that catches Yaz's attention when the grip of medically-induced sleep loosens around her brain, is the dimmed neon light suspended over her bed. She blinks, and the background noises start to filter through her mind: feet hitting the tiled floor in the hallway, muted conversations discernible through the thin walls, and a long, exasperated sigh coming from her left side.
Turning her head, she struggles to raise on her elbows to get a good look at the room, before the movement is cut short by a burst of dizziness that blurs the edge of her vision.
"Argh." The police officer whispers, falling back against the mattress.
"You're awake!" The overly chipper greetings draws a groan out of her chest, and the voice drops apologetically. "Sorry. Forgot about your head."
Against her better judgement, Yaz cracks her eyes open and glances to her left. The blond woman who broke her fall earlier is staring back at her, hair sticking out in every direction and her right foot elevated on a lump of cover. "Are you all right?" She asks, voice still raspy with traces of sleep.
"Fine, I'm great. Don't worry about me." The stranger's flustered reply comes after she swallows audibly. "Welcome to Hell."
Yaz rubs the palms of her hands against her eyes, bringing the room into focus. It's a fairly ordinary hospital room, complete with a couple of beds, medical instruments and empty plastic chairs. "Hell is a hospital?"
"Oh, you know. Tomato, potato."
"That's not the saying." Yaz's chuckle turns into a wince, when the tremor shaking her shoulders sends a wave of pain through her head.
"Isn't it?"
The blond's mock seriousness almost draws another bout of laughter out of the police officer, before she clamps her jaw shut. "Stop it." With a deep breath, she takes another look around. "What's so bad about this place?"
"They have the worst doctor in the history of medical sci..."
A voice interrupts before she can complete her sentence. "Well, hello to you too, Fun Size."
The other woman raises her hands in exasperation. "See for yourself, Yaz. Here's the doctor."
Yaz's gaze flickers between the doctor filling the doorway - tall, white hair, with a strong Scottish brogue - and the stranger. "Doctor who?"
"Don't know, he won't tell me. And he keeps making jokes about my height." She blows off the hair falling in front of her eyes. "I'm not even that short."
"Doctor Smith, if you must know." The man says, reaching into the inner pocket of his lab coat as he approaches Yaz's bed. "How's your head?"
"Oi, why do you tell her and not me?"
"Because you're annoying." The Scottish man answers, tuning the follow up protest out of his mind. "Don't move." He requests, sizing Yaz's chin between his index and thumb, before using a flashlight to examine her pupils. "Reactive. You've already improved since they brought you in. Headache? Nausea?"
The younger woman nods, blinking away the tearful reaction to his test and tilting her chin down to escape the blinding light. "What's wrong with my h..."
"Mild concussion.” He interrupts sharply. “We're keeping you here for the night, but it's precautionary."
"Did someone call my fam..."
"Someone named..." He cuts off again, trailing off to reach for the notepad suspended to Yaz's bed and scans through the scrawled notes. "Najia is supposed to pick you up tomorrow. I'll be working on Shorty's foot by then, but use the call button if your head gets worse. One of the nurses will come." Discarding the notepad, he clips the flashlight back into his white coat and leaves the room without another word.
"See? The worst." The blond stranger points out from her left.
"Well, his bedside manners do need work." Yaz shrugs, biting back a smile when she sees the other woman’s crossed arms and petulant frown.
"I'd be a much better doctor than him." She fires back, scrunching her nose.
The adorable expression forces a silent laugh out of the police officer, stirring up the fuzzy blur swirling in her brain. She groans, allowing her head to drop back against the pillow. "Are you sure? Because you keep making jokes while I can't laugh."
"Not my fault, I'm funny."
"And modest." Yaz quips, glancing to her temporary flatmate. Between her messy hair, rumpled clothes and drawn out features, she looks like she belongs among the hospital patients. But the combination of playfully sparkling green eyes and sharp intelligence tinting the woman’s every word is drawing Yaz in.
She clears her throat once she picks up on the faint flush coloring the stranger's cheeks, realizing that she's been caught staring. "How do you know my name?"
"Your mates kept calling you, when you passed out." She shrugs. "Before they decided that calling the paramedics might be a better idea."
Yaz nods, sliding her eyelids shut in an attempt to alleviate the pressure in her head. "It's a bit unfair, isn't it?" She says, distractedly. Opening one eye when no answer is forthcoming, she meets the stranger's confused gaze. "I don't know your name."
"Joan Smith. Jo, for short."
"Smith." Yaz repeats, with the tiniest snicker. "Maybe that doctor is your distant cousin."
Jo's nose scrunches again at the suggestion, and Yaz bites back a smile. There's no way that childlike expression should be attractive on a grown up adult. Her concussion must be rattling her brain more than she noticed. "What's up with your foot?"
"Broken."
The one word answer lands heavily in Yaz's stomach, and she forces herself into a half sitting position, trying to face the other woman properly through bursts of nausea. "Are you all right? It's my fault, I'm so sorry."
"You really shouldn't be moving that much." Jo frowns, in a gentle reminder. Yaz reluctantly agrees, falling back against the mattress with a long sigh. "Told you, don't worry about me. I've had much worse. Doctor Eyebrows will fix me up tomorrow, and I'll be good as new."
The dark haired woman nods again, the simmering guilt in her chest slowly fading into a concerned weight that falls on her shoulders. "If you say so." She can feel the tug of sleep gently knocking against her conscious thoughts, but a stubborn desire to enjoy the intriguing stranger's company for just a few more minutes is fighting back. "What were you doing in that museum? They're not open at night."
"Oh, you know. Just a shortcut on my way home." Jo shrugs, aiming a grin towards Yaz. "Right place, right time, I guess."
"For a broken foot?" The police officer wonders, through a yawn.
"To catch you." Jo's smile turns softer, warmth flashing through her gaze, and Yaz has to forcefully stifle the urge to reach a hand into the crammed space between their beds. She's not sure how someone can take having her foot broken by a clumsy police officer so well, but Jo’s kindness is only heightening the magnetic pull she felt, when they first looked at each other.
A surprisingly comfortable silence stretches across the room, until Yaz resigns herself to give up her fight against exhaustion. "I should sleep."
Jo hums, already midway through slumber herself, and Yaz's eyes twinkle when an idea crosses her mind. Tucking a hand under her pillow, her last conscious thought is a reminder to text her mum in the morning, before she allows sleep to take her.
***************
Jo's nose scrunches at the rush of sunlight hitting her closed eyelids. Sparing a yearning thought for the heavy curtains hung in her own bedroom, she reluctantly turns on her back and scans the hospital room swarm in mid-morning activity. A couple of nurses travel back and forth between the cupboard containing sheets, busy placing fresh covers on the unoccupied bed on her right.
When Yaz's absence sinks in, her frown deepens and she chances a glance towards her injured foot. There's a brand new cast wrapped around her limb, from her ankle to the bottom of her heel, leaving only the tip of her toes to peek out in the cold air. "Time?" She asks, when one of the nurses drifts closer.
"You're awake. Sorry love, I didn't notice." The woman regards her with compassion. "How's the pain?"
Jo grimaces when the achy sensation traveling through her entire leg registers in her brain. "Fine."
The nurse rolls her eyes, already reaching for a bottle in the pockets of her scrubs. "You're one of those patients, I see." She slides a couple of pills into her hand, offering them to the blond woman with a glass of water. Jo pulls a face but obliges, wincing when she swallows the painkillers. "It's a bit before noon. Oh, and your friend left you a little gift before going home."
The blond twists her head, spotting the to-go cup placed on the bedside table with a smile. Sizing the drink, she’s surprised to find a paper towel tucked under the recipient. Her smile spreads into a grin when she catches sight of a phone number and a hastily scribbled message.
Phone me, if you need anything The last word is underlined twice, traces of ink mushed into the napkin.
Muffling her grin into a sip of cold tea, she puts away the paper in the breast pocket of her blue polo shirt, her itching fingers searching for her phone. She types in the ten digits already burnt into her memory, before biting her lip in concentration.
You didn't even say goodbye, and the tea has gone cold
Yaz springs off the couch when her phone chimes with a text notification, tongue peeking out from between her teeth when she notices the foreign number. She chances a playful reply. Are you always grumpy in the morning?
Wouldn’t you like to know...”
The teasing message brings a grin to Yaz's lips, freezing her thumbs over the keyboard in a second of hesitation. With a deep breath, she starts typing. I'll have to buy you another tea then. You did sacrifice your foot for me. Bouncing on the ball of her feet, she watches the familiar three dots pop up on her screen.
It’s a date!
Yaz beams, wondering what’s the appropriate level of enthusiasm to show for a date with a woman she barely knows, when a second text appears.
Wait, it is a date, yeah? You weren’t just offering a friendly thank you cuppa?
The dark haired woman blinks, and a third consecutive notification brightens her phone before she can settle on an answer.
Which, I’m also up for. I’m always up for tea. Tea is amazing.
Yaz’s grin turns dopey, charmed by the cracks in Jo’s seemingly smooth flirting skills.
All right, I’ll stop talking now. Sorry.
It's a date. The police officer's fingers fly over the keyboard, eager to ease Jo's awkward rambling. Monday? I'm on bed rest for the weekend.
Pick a time and a place. I'll be there.
I'll text you. Yaz replies, sinking back into the comfortable couch and tucking the previously discarded blanket against her knees. Take care of yourself.
***************
"Ace." The whispered word comes with a sloppy attempt at a fist pump, catching the attention of the nurse still tinkering around Jo's room.
"Everything all right, love?"
"Got a date." She yawns, fingers loosening around her phone with the effects of painkillers starting to take hold. Noticing her slurred speech, the nurse strides towards the bed and gently puts the device on the table.
"How about you rest, for now?" The soft prompting earns the woman a scrunch of Jo's nose, her eyelids dropping against her better efforts.
"She's brilliant." With another yawn, Jo's head slowly falls against the lumpy pillow. "And beautiful."
The nurse muffles a chuckle against the open palm of her hand, dimming the neon light before leaving her patient to recover. Jo's sleepy thoughts drift to the following Monday, filling her dreams with memories of warm brown eyes and breathtaking smiles.