Work Header

With Angelic Grace

Work Text:

"D'you know what I'm really down about missing?" Yaz leaned against one of the TARDIS pillars, watching the Doctor dash about the console.

"Oh no, did I set you down too late last time?" The Doctor looked up from where she'd been adjusting some dial or another. "I'm sorry, Yaz, you should've said something! I definitely need to calibrate the chronological plug, it's been lagging behind a bit lately, and I can -"

"No," Yaz said, and she grinned. Trust the Doctor to immediately approach it as a TARDIS problem. "Don't worry, I were only twenty minutes late."

"That's a relief," said the Doctor, "unless those were a vital twenty minutes. In which case, sorry 'bout that, Yaz."

"Nah," said Yaz. "But I were saying. D'you know what I wish I hadn't missed?"

"What d'you wish you hadn't missed? Why'd you miss it, if it weren't the TARDIS?" The Doctor put down the... well, it looked a little bit like a socket wrench, but it also looked a little bit like an eggbeater.

"No snow this year," Yaz said. "Or at least, not proper snow. We had that rubbish little dusting, but not, like... a good snow. One that you could make a snowball with."

"Oh," said the Doctor. "That's rubbish, isn't it? Can't be a proper winter without a proper snow." Then she brightened up. "I've got a solution to that," she said, and she looked properly pleased.

"Are you going to like... unleash some alien space tech to make it snow in Sheffield? Because you don't need to do that, I'm sure we'll find a way to live with the snow." It always helped to nip the Doctor's more... impulsive notions in the bud, before things got especially chaotic.

"That'd be environmentally unsound," the Doctor said, her tone scolding. "Wouldn't want to do anything untoward with the weather."

"That's very responsible of you," said Yaz.

"You know me," said the Doctor. "Responsibility is my middle name." She wiped her hands on a nearby greasy rag, then rubbed her forehead. It left a smear of oil.

Yaz snorted. "D'you have a middle name?" She walked closer, and went to grab a clean rag from the little shelf under the console. She took the Doctor's jaw firmly in hand, and applied the rag to the splotch of grease.

The Doctor wrinkled her nose, but she looked resigned. "I do," she said. "I've got a few, actually." This kind of touching was still something the both of them were getting used to - the Doctor had always been so hands off, and Yaz had always been so timid about crossing a line.

But now she held on, carefully cleaning the Doctor up, and the Doctor stared at her, wide eyed.

"D'you wanna go to a snow planet?" The Doctor said, instead of supplying her middle names.

"What, a planet entirely of snow? Like in Star Wars?" Yaz leaned against the TARDIS console, as the Doctor started to tinker again.

"Well, no, there's no planet that' s entirely the same sort of biome, even if they've got similar weather," said the Doctor. "And anyway, you can't have a planet made entirely of snow, you need a proper molten core for it to be a planet. Otherwise it'd be a dinky little ice asteroid, 'n even then, it's ice, not snow." She paused. "Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Were waitin' for you to take a breath," said Yaz, and she grinned.

"Oh," said the Doctor, and she looked sheepish. "I've got good lung capacity."

"I remember," Yaz said, and she smiled, nostalgic. "You were down there for ages."

The Doctor made a slightly strangled noise, and she was blushing all the way to her hairline. What's so embarrassing about the time she did the high stakes apple bobbing? Yaz wondered, and then she realized the other time the Doctor had held her breath for a ridiculous amount of time, and now she was blushing.

How was it that they were both so awkward? Wouldn't it make more sense for them to be... well, less so, now that they regularly fucked and kissed and showered together and did all those other day to day things in each other's intimate company?

And yet.

"I'd like to go to a snow planet," said Yaz. "Or at least, a planet that has snow. I dunno if we'd be able to find a plane entirely made of snow. Although the way you talk about some of those rich people terraforming planets, there must be someone out there that's got the space equivalent of a ski lodge or sommat like that."

"Oh, that's different," the Doctor said, waving a hand dismissively. “But,” she added, “if you wanna do a proper snow adventure, I’ve got just the thing!” She began to dash about again, her coat flapping behind her like the tail of a comet.

“What kinda thing?” Yaz followed after her.

“Cabin in the snowy woods, no people for miles around, properly stocked pantry, well working kitchen…” The Doctor’s whole face lit up as she grinned. “So how does that sound?”

“Lovely,” said Yaz, and she reached out impulsively, took the Doctor’s hand and squeezed it.

“Might have to do a bit of scientific research while we’re there,” the Doctor added, almost as an afterthought. “I promised the mate I'd only stay in his cabin if I took good notes."

"Good notes?" Yaz frowned. “Are we going to be dealing with abominable snowmen or yetis or somethin’?”

“I reckon we could make a snowman so bad it’s abominable,” the Doctor agreed. “So. Fancy a nice winter getaway?” She rubbed her hands together, rocked on her heels.

“I’d absolutely love one,” Yaz said, and she grabbed the Doctor’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

The Doctor looked down at their hands, then back up at Yaz’s face. She smiled, and it was as luminous as the sun rising.


The TARDIS wardrobe had more cold weather gear than Yaz had ever seen in one place. Some of it seemed straightforward enough - a pair of thermal trousers were a pair of thermal trousers, and a parka and mittens were the same universally.

But what was up with the futuristic shades? For that matter, why were there so many furs? There was also a scarf that looked like Yaz could have wrapped around her whole body at least three times over, and she couldn't imagine anyone being able to get around in that.

She came up to the control room to find the Doctor... in proper trousers, which was a bit of a shock.

"I can't see your socks," Yaz said, and the Doctor looked over her shoulder at her, eyebrows drawn together. "I could even see your socks when you were in that tux."

"There've been loads of times you haven't been able to see my socks," the Doctor said, perplexed. "Sometimes I don't even wear socks."

"You know what I mean," Yaz said. The Doctor was still wearing her coat - she wouldn't be the Doctor without her coat - but there was a bulky sweater under it, and that rainbow scarf of hers. She had a thick knitted hat on as well, pulled down around her ears, and a pair of fingerless gloves with mitten tops pinned to the backs of her hands. She was wearing winter boots as well, sturdy ones, and thick blue trousers.

"So this place is pretty remote," the Doctor told Yaz, as the TARDIS rattled along to wherever and whenever they were going. "Not in a bad way," she added. "We've got running water, a working fridge, electricity. And I'm trying to time us for a specific natural phenomenon, since my mate found out that I've got a time machine but they don't believe in doing the time traveling themselves, but they want me to take notes."

"Right," said Yaz. "What kinda natural phenomenon?"

"A really fascinating one," the Doctor said earnestly. "It's only happened a couple of times, and my mate, they weren't born before the first one, and the second one happened right after they'd died." The TARDIS juddered to a stop, and Yaz staggered. She was already starting to heat up, in all the winter gear - she probably should have gotten dressed in the winter stuff until she was about to leave the TARDIS - it was always the worst to stand around sweating.

"Is this gonna be dangerous?" Yaz asked, suddenly suspicious. This was the Doctor, after all, and her idea of "fascinating" almost never lined up with "safe."

"Oh, extremely," said the Doctor, "if we get caught up in it unawares." She rubbed her hands together, and she flicked a switch on the TARDIS. "We're here," she added.

"Where's here?" Yaz squinted at the monitor - she could just make out what looked like dim shapes covered in snow.

"Chorif," said the Doctor proudly. "Winter planet," she added. "Well, not winter all the time, obviously, you can't be winter all the time. Technically it's summer, when we go in, but high summer here is deep winter for you. If we went in deep winter without a proper environmental suit, your eyeballs would freeze solid in your skull."

Yaz blanched at the thought. "Oh," she said.

"But," the Doctor said, winding her scarf a little tighter and adding her mittens again, "I figured, if we're going to do snow, let's do snow proper. So summer in Chorif!" She threw the door to the TARDIS open, and held her hand out.

Yaz was wearing fluffy pink gloves she'd found in the drawer full of gloves. These were the ones that fit best, and there was something strangely intimate about holding the Doctor's hand like this, through the warm fabric. The world outside was dim, and Yaz could just make out the dim outline of trees covered in powder.

"It doesn't get very light here," the Doctor warned Yaz, as they stepped out. "It's about mid-afternoon right now."

The snow that Yaz stepped into crunched underfoot like proper snow, and even through the thick socks and the boots, it was cold. The sky was like a deep, purple velvet, and there were stars twinkling down at her like little chips of ice. The cold hit Yaz's face, and the air was crisp enough that it almost tasted like... mint.

Or maybe her brain was just latching onto "mint" because the snow around them was green. Not a strong green - the pastel green of the mint chocolate ice cream at the parlor by her mum's old job. She took another step, and her foot sank into snow up to her ankle. "Oh!"

The Doctor's mittened hand was still in Yaz's, and then the Doctor took a step herself,and sank down to her knee. She looked down at her leg, up at Yaz's face, and her expression was comically surprised. "Deeper 'n I thought it'd be."

"Good thing you wore proper trousers then, huh?" Yaz grinned, took a step herself. She sank down as well, and when she looked down, she laughed out loud. "It's like walkin' through ice cream," she told the Doctor.

"D'you think?" The Doctor bent down, took a handful of it. She brought the green snow up to her face, and she licked it, then wrinkled her nose. "Just tastes like snow," she said. "Although..." Another lick. "Yep." Her face broke into a grin. "It's comin'!"

"What's comin'?" The Doctor had let go of Yaz's hand, and was beginning to walk in the direction of a space between the trees.

"You'll see," the Doctor said cheerfully. "I want it to be a surprise!"

How can she tell that whatever is coming, just by tasting the snow? Yaz wondered, following after the Doctor. Little bits of snow floated down around them, like some celestial being was very gently sifting flour onto the planet. Yaz tilted her head back, and let a few flakes land on her face, catching on her eyelashes. They melted a few moments after hitting her warm skin, and the little shocks of cold were like bright dabs of paint on a wall.

Impulsively, Yaz stuck her tongue out, and caught a few snowflakes on her tongue. They melted almost instantly, and tasted like... snow. Not even green.

Although what would green snow taste like?

But it was snow, exactly what she had asked for, and when she caught the Doctor grinning at her, she blushed, looked down at her feet. Then she looked back up at the Doctor, and she grinned back. “Thanks,” she said. “For… for all of this. It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” the Doctor said, then; “the cabin is just over the next ridge!” She grabbed Yaz’s hand again, and the two of them made their way through the deepening snow.

* * *

The cabin was like something out of a painting, albeit one with odd color correction. It was in a little clearing, and the snow was heaped around it. There was a sheltered porch, and the whole thing looked snug and cozy, even with its dark windows.

"I know we could've just landed the TARDIS nearby," the Doctor said, "but there's somethin' magical about walkin' over. Don't you agree?"

Yaz nodded, staring at it. "Yeah," she said. Magical was a good description for all of it, honestly. It was almost like being in a dream.

The cold was starting to leach through her layers, but that was part of the fun, wasn't it? Being in winter, remembering what it felt like to be cold, what it felt like to have a body that reacted to the temperature, that she was alive. Maybe she was being overly sentimental, and maybe the cold was making her eyes water a little bit, but everything went a little hazy on the edges.

And then something cold and wet hit her in the middle of her chest, pulling her out of her reverie. She blinked at the Doctor, who was grinning as she bent down to scoop up another handful of snow, packing it into a ball.

"Oh my god," Yaz said, but she was leaning down herself, scooping the snow up herself. It was cold through her fuzzy gloves, and she moved as fast as possible to keep it from soaking through. She threw the snowball, and it hit the Doctor in the side with a little paf.

"Of course, you realize, this means war," said the Doctor in what was possibly supposed to be a Bugs Bunny impression.

"Bring it," said Yaz, and she took a few steps back. She was still giggling as she grabbed more snow, beginning to pack it into another snowball. Another one hit her in the leg, and she threw one herself, getting the Doctor in the hip.

"Oi!" The Doctor yelped, indignant. She ducked behind a tree, and Yaz ran beside another one, and made another snowball.

She didn't remember the last time she'd had a snowball fight - probably back in primary school, come to think of it. She was starting to get warm in her coat, as she threw snow and danced around the clearing, trying to avoid being hit. Snow was soaking into her trousers, and then she tripped and landed on the ground in a heap of green snow.

"You alright, Yaz?" The Doctor called.

Yaz gave an awkward thumbs up, which looked especially absurd from her recumbent position. The stars looked especially bright, and Yaz's breath misted up in front of her like smoke as she stared at the sky.

There was the crunch of snow, and then the Doctor's face blocked out the stars. "You sure you're okay?"

Impulsively, Yaz grabbed a handful of snow and threw it, getting the Doctor in the chest. It was a short lived victory - the snow came raining down onto Yaz's face, and she sputtered, but the Doctor was laughing and flopping onto the snow next to her. It was beginning to come down thicker now, and some of the flakes were staying intact the shiny finish of Yaz's coat. There was snow on the back of Yaz's neck, and little bits staying on her eyelashes.

"I think it's a tie," the Doctor said, and her mittened hand found Yaz's. "Willin' to call it a draw?"

"Just this once," Yaz said. Without their laughter or the sounds of the snowball fight, the quiet seemed to wrap them up, as surely as the snow did.

"We should do snow angels," the Doctor said, sitting up. Then she paused. "But not here," she said, and she wrinkled her nose. "We kinda ruined all that nice snow, didn't we?"

Yaz sat up as well, brushing some of the snow off of her back. The snow had, indeed, been trampled and run through. "There's a good clean patch over there," she said, and then she shivered. Some of the bone deep cold seemed to be making its way under her clothes, and her skin was breaking out in waves of goosebumps.

Their footsteps were quiet, as they made their way towards the other side of the cabin. The Doctor spread her arms out, and she fell backwards. Then she wheezed, as the wind was knocked out of her.

"That weren't very smart," Yaz said, her tone teasing. She sat down herself, and leaned back.

“They can’t all be winners,” the Doctor wheezed.

Yaz giggled, and she spread her arms and legs, the way her mum had shown her when she was little.

"Proper angels aren't like this," the Doctor said. "Or at least... the way they're described."

"Are you gonna tell me you've met a real angel?" Yaz sat up awkwardly, and stepped back. There was her snow angel, outlined perfectly in green.

"Of course I haven't," the Doctor scoffed. "No such thing as angels."

"Really?" Yaz tried to brush snow off of her back, then gave up and dusted her hands off. "Of all the things, that's what you draw the line at?"

"I've seen some aliens with the head of an ox and what looked like a man and all that," the Doctor said absently, brushing herself off as well. "Possibly one of 'em buzzed the Earth at some point."

Yaz stretched, and then she shivered. "I always forget how cold snow is," she said, rubbing her arms in a fruitless attempt to warm herself up. "I know it's one of the key features of snow," she added when it looked like the Doctor was about to say something. "I know it's daft."

"Nah, makes sense," the Doctor said. She held her hand out. "I reckon there'll be some hot chocolate inside. Shall we?"

Yaz took the Doctor's hand.


Yaz woke up hours later, curled up in the loft bed. She didn't know when, exactly, she'd fallen asleep, but the Doctor had something about going to investigate... something, but now the fire in the grate had gone down to almost ashes. It was very dim, and very quiet, the way it can only be quiet in a snowstorm.

"Did I wake you?" The Doctor's voice floated in through the darkness, and then the mattress was dipping down.

"'s'okay," Yaz murmured, sitting up on her elbows. "Weren't sleeping that hard."

"You were out like a light," the Doctor said, and she drew the blanket back. It sent a blast of cool air against Yaz's bare legs, and she shivered, then sighed as the Doctor climbed into the bed with her, snuggling close.

"Your feet aren't half cold," Yaz murmured, and she curled her toes against the Doctor's calves, as the Doctor's freezing hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, to splay over her ribs.

"Weren't wearin' shoes," the Doctor murmured. Her warm breath was gusting across Yaz's face, and then her cold nose was pressing against the side of Yaz's, and her tongue was in Yaz's mouth. She was straddling Yaz's thighs, her breasts against Yaz's, her hearts beating a staccato symphony

Yaz sighed, kissed the Doctor back. Her fingers were in the Doctor's hair, and she let herself be gently pushed onto her back, the Doctor's mouth hot and familiar against her. The Doctor's cold hands were under her shirt now, cupping her breasts. There were cold thumbs against her nipples, and the Doctor's hair was ticklish against her face.

The Doctor had climbed on top of Yaz now, "That weren't very smart," Yaz mumbled against the Doctor's ear. "You might get frostbite. Lose your toes."

"Won't lose my toes," said the Doctor. "Didn't go out into the snow. Just sat on the porch, took my notes." She sat up, and the blanket was like a cape down her back. Framed against the grate beneath them, she looked like some kind of superhero, or maybe a queen.

"What're you... mmm... what're you taking notes on?" Yaz's voice was going a little higher, as the Doctor leaned down again, still covered with the blanket. She kissed along Yaz's jaw, her neck, to her shoulder. Her lips were dry and her mouth was hot. She lifted her arms over her head and the Doctor pulled her shirt up and off. There was some wriggling and resituating, and then the Doctor was draped across Yaz's front, her hot mouth traveling down from Yaz's neck to her collarbone, then lower, mouthing at Yaz's breast.

Yaz moaned, and she was melting into the softness of the bed, pinned between it and the warmth of the Doctor's body. It was still cooler than a human's, but it was perfect, warmer than the air around them, and Yaz's hands went to the Doctor's shoulders, holding her in place.

"You feel so good, Yaz," the Doctor murmured, and she was kneading one breast as she sucked the nipple of the other one, then switched sides. Her teeth were very gentle as they nibbled, but Yaz still hissed, her fingers digging in harder.

“You’re… you’re g-g-good too,” Yaz said. Smooth, Khan, she berated herself, and then the Doctor’s mouth was moving lower, to kiss down her belly.

“I’m better ‘n good, thank you very much,” the Doctor said, and that broke Yaz out of her embarrassing spiral.

“Cheeky,” she scolded, and she tugged at the Doctor’s hair.

“Confident,” the Doctor countered, and now she was almost hiding under the covers. Yaz’s top half was bare, and she was warm enough with arousal that the coolness was refreshing and not just cold. Her nipples were tight and tingling, and she was sweating now, dripping down her sides. The Doctor was between her thighs now, fingers hooked into the waistband of Yaz’s knickers

“Six of one, half a dozen of another,” Yaz said, and she lifted her hips, let the Doctor pull her knickers off. She spread her legs, and she sank into the pillows as the Doctor’s breath gusted over her pubic hair.

“Depends on the dozen, really,” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “Different planets have different units of measurements, so a dozen on Raxacoricofallapatorius is different from a dozen on, say, Earth.” She nuzzled her nose into Yaz’s vulva, pressed a kiss to Yaz’s labia. “But the terminology remains the same.”

Yaz was going to make some remark - it would probably be clever, maybe even witty - but then the tip of the Doctor’s tongue was tapping over her clit, and she didn’t really think anything, except that the Doctor needed to keep at it, or Yaz might die.

The Doctor’s tongue seemed to be everywhere; swirling over her clit, jabbing inside of her, zig-zagging along Yaz’s labia. Then she took Yaz’s whole vulva into her mouth and sucked, which shouldn’t have felt half as good as it did. The cool air on Yaz’s neck, her breasts, her belly seemed to be sending Yaz’s whole body into waves of goosebumps, and those seemed to be contrasting with the rippling heat being pulled out of her by each pass of the Doctor’s tongue, the suction of her mouth.

Yaz’s heels dug into the Doctor’s dies, and the sounds that were coming out of Yaz’s mouth were being muffled by the snow, by the quiet of the room. One of the Doctor’s fingers slid inside of Yaz, or maybe it was two? Yaz couldn’t tell, didn’t care. All that mattered was the sweat pleasure that was starting to build at the base of her spine, deep in her belly.

She came against the Doctor’s face in a rush of slick and tremble, pulsing around the Doctor’s fingers, and she lay there, panting, as the Doctor nuzzled into her thigh.

“Better ‘n six, eh?” The Doctor asked, and that startled a giggle out of Yaz.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Yaz said, which wasn’t strictly true. She could definitely believe the Doctor.

“It’s what makes me fun,” said the Doctor, and then she was crawling up Yaz’s body, and they were kissing again. The Doctor’s face absolutely reeked of Yaz’s cunt, and her tongue was still sharp with musk and salt. The Doctor was straddling Yaz’s leg, and she’d lost everything she’d had on her bottom half at some point, because that was her wet, sloppy cunt sliming up Yaz’s thigh. She gasped when Yaz pressed it up, and she ground her hips faster, chasing her pleasure.

Time went a little hazy, the way it always does late at night during a storm. At some point, the blanket was covering them again, and Yaz was grabbing the Doctor’s arse, using it to guide the Doctor’s hips. Then the Doctor was sitting up again, and Yaz’s fingers were plucking at the Doctor’s nipples, twisting them. She couldn’t make out the Doctor’s face, but the groans and gasps throbbed through Yaz’s whole body like the orgasm had.

The Doctor’s own orgasm seemed to hit her out of nowhere - one moment, she was riding Yaz’s leg, the next her knees dug into Yaz’s thigh, and her whole body went rigid. She slumped forward, her cunt still throbbing against Yaz, and she nuzzled into the soft skin under Yaz’s jaw.

“Good?” Yaz’s voice was very quiet.

“Excellent,” the Doctor said sleepily. “Amazing. You’re a wonder, Yaz.”

“Thank you,” Yaz said, because she couldn’t think of a proper response to that.

The Doctor chuckled, and then she was flopping to the side, cuddling up to Yaz with one leg thrown over Yaz’s own. Yaz’s last thought, before she fell back asleep, was to why the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes when she went outside.


Yaz was woken up some time later by a shake to the shoulder, and the sound of the wind whistling outside.

“It’s about to happen,” the Doctor said, and she was practically bouncing. It was still dark out, but the darkness had gotten paler, more like a dim twilight than the deepness of midnight.

“What?” Yaz blinked at her, but she dutifully sat up.

“It’s happening,” the Doctor repeated. “The thing what I told you about.” She was already shimmying down the ladder in the loft. “C’mon, we’re gonna miss it!”

“What is it?” Yaz climbed down the loft herself, pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms the Doctor had left discarded over the back of the couch of the small living room.

“You’ll see,” the Doctor said. “Don’t need to put on shoes,” the Doctor added. “We’re just goin’ to the porch.” Then she was dashing out the door, and Yaz almost tripped as she shuffled after. She grabbed a dressing gown as an afterthought, closing it over her bare breasts, and then the two of them were standing out on the porch.

It was snowing now - properly snowing, with whistling wind blowing so hard the snow was practically coming down sideways. There was also… something happening in the sky.

Yaz frowned, stared up at the sky, and she rubbed her eyes, because there was some kind of flickering going on. “Is that the aurora?”

“No,” said the Doctor. “This planet doesn’t have one.” Her hand had slipped into Yaz’s, and her fingertips were already getting cold. “No, that’s something very different.”

A shape was appearing against the darkness - something big and winged. There were colors rippling along the length of it, almost like the oily, iridescent flashes from ammolite, or maybe an opal. It was muted in the darkness, about amongst the green snow, it still stood out.

“What is that?” Yaz took a step closer, and then hurriedly stepped back, as her bare foot encountered a thin layer of snow that had blown onto the porch.

“A snow phoenix,” the Doctor said, her voice low.

The wind and snow was now whirling around the shape above them, as it flared. The wind was screaming, and the snow was falling harder, thick flakes the size of the first joint of Yaz’s thumb. Yaz stared, enraptured, as the shape seemed to change, get bigger.

“They change, every couple of hundred years,” the Doctor continued, “they renew themselves. Scientists aren’t sure about all the… details, but I’ve been takin’ notes, observing.” She pointed to a little black box that was on the porch railing. "Recording everything," she told Yaz.

"It's so beautiful," Yaz said quietly, as the colors flared brighter. She couldn't make out the shape, exactly, but the blues and reds and purples seemed to stand out that much more against the green of the snow and the blackness of the sky.

“It really is,” the Doctor agreed. Her fingers had slipped into Yaz’s. “It’s gonna be flarin’ like that for a while, then gradually die down. Restarting the life cycle.”

“Wow,” Yaz said quietly. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat, trying to struggle through the embarrassment of showing her feelings like this. “It’s… thank you.”

The Doctor kissed her temple, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The two of them stood on the porch, as the colors reflected off of the snow, and the storm continued to blow around them, like so much peppermint powdered sugar.