Fic: And That Was New York
Title: And That Was New York
Rating: R - NC-17
Disclaimer: They ain’t mine.
Summary: The Last Lord of Time, The Face of Boe and The Bad Wolf checked into the Chelsea Hotel…
A/N: Written for the Ten n Tyler ficathon for BuckBeakBabie.
Spoilers: S3
Under the cut:
The room was painted bright orange, and it was made even brighter by the large, floor-to-ceiling window at the back of the room; daylight filtering through the matching curtains. It bounced off of the mirror attached to the antique vanity that was placed next to the fireplace, which was faced by an old blue couch and two contemporary-looking chairs.
The kitchenette was decorated in the same orange as the sitting area with a full-sized refrigerator, and a small, orange range and oven. The coffeemaker was also orange, but looked quite old.
The door to the bedroom was open, and Rose Tyler glanced at it, guessing it looked much the same.
She couldn’t quite figure out what they were doing in New York City in late 2007. She’d only just arrived back in this dimension - her home dimension - a few days beforehand.
The Doctor hadn’t said much over those few days. He’d looked drained, bereft, and nothing she said seemed to do any good. The only time he’d seemed relaxed was briefly after they’d made love the night she’d returned.
Since then, he’d kept his distance from her.
It seemed a surprise when they’d landed in Cardiff, kidnapped (yes, kidnapped) Jack, and then taken off again. They’d landed in a back ally on 23rd street, and the Doctor had told them to pack up their bags.
And here they were in room 412.
Rose set her bag down and stretched. She glanced at the Doctor. “What’re we doing here, then?”
“Downtime,” Jack said. He glanced at the Doctor. “Am I right?”
The Doctor nodded, and pulled at his hair awkwardly. “Need to clear my head.”
“Why here?” Jack asked.
“It’s the Chelsea,” the Doctor replied.
Jack looked confused.
Rose grinned. “The Chelsea Hotel has been home to loads of famous artists and thinkers,” she explained. “Sid killed Nancy here.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “More interesting people than them stayed here,” he grumbled. “Chopin, Twain, Ginsburg… Janis Joplin.” He grinned a little and pulled at his overcoat. “She gave this to me in the lobby.”
“She did not,” Rose argued playfully, glad that the Doctor was starting to ramble as he used to, before she’d left.
“She did! We’re in room 412, the same suite I stayed in when I was here last. She used to stay in 411, right next door.”
Jack shook his head. “Why this time?”
“I’ve never been here in 2007,” the Doctor replied. “No chance of my running into myself…unless one of my future selves is stupid enough to show up.” He slumped down onto the seat in front of the window.
“How long are we staying?” Rose asked.
The Doctor shrugged.
Jack sighed. “I have a team to lead you know. I can’t just stay here indefinitely.”
“Time machine, Jack,” the Doctor replied.
“Still! You’re not exactly known for landing when and where you’re supposed to,” Jack argued.
“I’ll get you back where you need to be when you need to be,” the Doctor snapped. “It’s not like your team is made up of children.”
Jack smiled. “Oh…I don’t know…”
Rose smiled and sat down in front of the vanity, looking in the mirror. She’d changed very little over the handful of years she’d spent in the alternate world. Her hair was darker, and she was thinner, but other than that, she looked and felt the same.
She watched through the mirror as Jack came closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. She gripped one of his hands with hers, and sighed. “It’s really good to see you.”
He smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head. “You, too.” His smile widened. “Misery Guts here agrees.”
“Oi,” the Doctor snapped.
Rose glanced at him. “You’ve hardly said anything to me since the first night I was back.”
“Didn’t have anything to say,” he muttered.
Jack snorted. “Yeah, we believe that. He of the motor mouth had nothing to say.”
The Doctor sat back and sighed.
“I get it,” Rose said. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other. A lot of things happened to me, too.” She got up and let go of Jack’s hand, walking over and settling herself on the Doctor’s lap, “But you’re not getting up until you talk to me.”
“What if my legs fall asleep?”
“Live with it, Mr. Superior Physiology,” she teased.
He huffed, and eyed her warily, as Jack took a seat next to him, taking Rose’s legs and setting them on his lap.
“Tell her,” Jack said.
Rose pouted at the Doctor. “He knows and I don’t?”
“The only reason he knows is because he was there,” the Doctor replied.
“Wish I’d been there,” Rose said.
The Doctor sighed heavily and reached a hand out to run through her hair. “No. You don’t.”
“What happened?”
They fell into silence for around twenty minutes, before the Doctor broke it by leaning in and capturing Rose’s lips insistently. Her arms wound around him, and when Jack huffed impatiently, they dragged him in close to them.
“This does not let you off the hook,” Rose told the Doctor, as she watched him kiss Jack, threading the fingers of each of her hands in their hair.
He grinned at her, and leaned in for another kiss.
*****
Rose woke up to the sounds of the busy city outside of the bedroom window, and looked around for anything that might tell her the time. It was dark out, and she knew they’d missed supper, but the time eluded her. Her phone was in the pocket of her jeans, having been long forgotten in the sitting room earlier. The sun had still been shining then and it was clearly night now.
On her right side, Jack slept on silently, his eyes fluttering and his arm thrown over her waist haphazardly. She expected to find the Doctor on her other side, but the space was empty; the covers pulled back.
Rose gently removed Jack’s arm from around her and hunted around for something to wear. She came up with her knickers and Jack’s undershirt pulling them on, and wandered out of the bedroom, finding the kitchen and bathroom both empty. She felt a sick twist in her stomach at the thought that the Doctor had left them, but it halted when she spotted him through the window of the sitting room, standing on the balcony that obviously wasn’t really supposed to be used as one. He was wearing his trousers and shirtsleeves, leaning on the railing, looking out at the city.
He turned around and gave her a nod, and she quietly opened window and climbed out to join him.
The night air hit her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What time is it?” she asked in a horse, low voice.
“Round half past two in the morning,” the Doctor replied. He turned to her and rubbed her arms comfortingly. “What’re you doing up?”
Rose shrugged. “I’d ask the same of you, but you never could sit still.”
He grinned. “You know me too well.”
She burrowed into him, resting her cheek against his chest as he looked out at the city around them. “Are you gonna talk to me now?”
He held her tighter. “Last time I was here was just before I met you.”
Rose looked up at him. His eyes were still on the city.
“Leonard Cohen and Janis Joplin were having a love affair in the room right next door, and during that time, Leonard wrote a song for her. It’s not really very romantic, but it’s one of my favorites.”
Rose pursed her lips.
The Doctor grinned down at her. “You don’t know who Leonard Cohen is.”
She shook her head and blushed.
He chuckled and she let him situate them so that he was sitting on the concrete of the balcony and she was sitting on his lap.
“Leonard Cohen was… well, is, he’s still alive… a folk musician.”
“Like Bob Dylan?”
“A bit like Bob Dylan but Leonard Cohen was Canadian…and he could actually sing.” He slid a hand underneath her shirt and rubbed her back gently. “Let’s see… Oh. You know the song Hallelujah? Everyone and their gran have covered it?”
Rose nodded. “Rufus Wainwright sang it in Shrek.”
The Doctor huffed impatiently. “Jeff Buckley most famously covered it.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Anyway. Leonard Cohen wrote and performed it originally.”
“That’s the song he wrote when you were here?”
“No,” the Doctor said. “No. He wrote a song titled Chelsea Hotel Number Two when I was here.”
“Makes sense. Chelsea Hotel song written at the Chelsea Hotel.”
He grinned.
“Sing it for me,” Rose said.
He scoffed gently and gave a laugh. “No.”
“Please?”
“Not on your life, Rose Tyler.”
She pulled away a little and looked him in the eyes. “You either sing me that song or you tell me what you’ve been refusing to tell me since I’ve been back.”
The Doctor hesitated before speaking. “Aren’t you hungry? New York has the best-“
He was cut off as Rose got to her feet and made for the window, obviously a bit fed up with him. He got up and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back. She looked sad.
He wrapped his other hand around her waist, swaying to the sounds of the city around them, and music only he could hear.
Rose was confused, until she heard him start to sing; quietly, but coherently.
“I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
You were talking to brave and so sweet.
Giving me head on the unmade bed
While the limousines waited in the street.”
Rose closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. She began to hum with his singing as she picked up the tone, and heard him smile.
When he finished the song, someone whistled from down bellow them. They both looked over the balcony to find a young man, wandering around. He looked up at them with a smile.
“Hey lady!” he said in a gravely voice. “Nice panties!”
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow, but Rose burst into a stunned laugh. He herded her back through the window, and shook his head incredulously, before following her, muttering something about still loving New York.
He watched her pulled her clothes off and climb back into the bed, taking Jack’s arm and wrapping it around her waist before pulling the sheets up over herself.
He didn’t bother pulling his clothes off before sliding into the empty space left for him on the mattress. He got as close to Rose as he could and wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes.
END
Rating: R - NC-17
Disclaimer: They ain’t mine.
Summary: The Last Lord of Time, The Face of Boe and The Bad Wolf checked into the Chelsea Hotel…
A/N: Written for the Ten n Tyler ficathon for BuckBeakBabie.
Spoilers: S3
Under the cut:
The room was painted bright orange, and it was made even brighter by the large, floor-to-ceiling window at the back of the room; daylight filtering through the matching curtains. It bounced off of the mirror attached to the antique vanity that was placed next to the fireplace, which was faced by an old blue couch and two contemporary-looking chairs.
The kitchenette was decorated in the same orange as the sitting area with a full-sized refrigerator, and a small, orange range and oven. The coffeemaker was also orange, but looked quite old.
The door to the bedroom was open, and Rose Tyler glanced at it, guessing it looked much the same.
She couldn’t quite figure out what they were doing in New York City in late 2007. She’d only just arrived back in this dimension - her home dimension - a few days beforehand.
The Doctor hadn’t said much over those few days. He’d looked drained, bereft, and nothing she said seemed to do any good. The only time he’d seemed relaxed was briefly after they’d made love the night she’d returned.
Since then, he’d kept his distance from her.
It seemed a surprise when they’d landed in Cardiff, kidnapped (yes, kidnapped) Jack, and then taken off again. They’d landed in a back ally on 23rd street, and the Doctor had told them to pack up their bags.
And here they were in room 412.
Rose set her bag down and stretched. She glanced at the Doctor. “What’re we doing here, then?”
“Downtime,” Jack said. He glanced at the Doctor. “Am I right?”
The Doctor nodded, and pulled at his hair awkwardly. “Need to clear my head.”
“Why here?” Jack asked.
“It’s the Chelsea,” the Doctor replied.
Jack looked confused.
Rose grinned. “The Chelsea Hotel has been home to loads of famous artists and thinkers,” she explained. “Sid killed Nancy here.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “More interesting people than them stayed here,” he grumbled. “Chopin, Twain, Ginsburg… Janis Joplin.” He grinned a little and pulled at his overcoat. “She gave this to me in the lobby.”
“She did not,” Rose argued playfully, glad that the Doctor was starting to ramble as he used to, before she’d left.
“She did! We’re in room 412, the same suite I stayed in when I was here last. She used to stay in 411, right next door.”
Jack shook his head. “Why this time?”
“I’ve never been here in 2007,” the Doctor replied. “No chance of my running into myself…unless one of my future selves is stupid enough to show up.” He slumped down onto the seat in front of the window.
“How long are we staying?” Rose asked.
The Doctor shrugged.
Jack sighed. “I have a team to lead you know. I can’t just stay here indefinitely.”
“Time machine, Jack,” the Doctor replied.
“Still! You’re not exactly known for landing when and where you’re supposed to,” Jack argued.
“I’ll get you back where you need to be when you need to be,” the Doctor snapped. “It’s not like your team is made up of children.”
Jack smiled. “Oh…I don’t know…”
Rose smiled and sat down in front of the vanity, looking in the mirror. She’d changed very little over the handful of years she’d spent in the alternate world. Her hair was darker, and she was thinner, but other than that, she looked and felt the same.
She watched through the mirror as Jack came closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. She gripped one of his hands with hers, and sighed. “It’s really good to see you.”
He smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head. “You, too.” His smile widened. “Misery Guts here agrees.”
“Oi,” the Doctor snapped.
Rose glanced at him. “You’ve hardly said anything to me since the first night I was back.”
“Didn’t have anything to say,” he muttered.
Jack snorted. “Yeah, we believe that. He of the motor mouth had nothing to say.”
The Doctor sat back and sighed.
“I get it,” Rose said. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other. A lot of things happened to me, too.” She got up and let go of Jack’s hand, walking over and settling herself on the Doctor’s lap, “But you’re not getting up until you talk to me.”
“What if my legs fall asleep?”
“Live with it, Mr. Superior Physiology,” she teased.
He huffed, and eyed her warily, as Jack took a seat next to him, taking Rose’s legs and setting them on his lap.
“Tell her,” Jack said.
Rose pouted at the Doctor. “He knows and I don’t?”
“The only reason he knows is because he was there,” the Doctor replied.
“Wish I’d been there,” Rose said.
The Doctor sighed heavily and reached a hand out to run through her hair. “No. You don’t.”
“What happened?”
They fell into silence for around twenty minutes, before the Doctor broke it by leaning in and capturing Rose’s lips insistently. Her arms wound around him, and when Jack huffed impatiently, they dragged him in close to them.
“This does not let you off the hook,” Rose told the Doctor, as she watched him kiss Jack, threading the fingers of each of her hands in their hair.
He grinned at her, and leaned in for another kiss.
*****
Rose woke up to the sounds of the busy city outside of the bedroom window, and looked around for anything that might tell her the time. It was dark out, and she knew they’d missed supper, but the time eluded her. Her phone was in the pocket of her jeans, having been long forgotten in the sitting room earlier. The sun had still been shining then and it was clearly night now.
On her right side, Jack slept on silently, his eyes fluttering and his arm thrown over her waist haphazardly. She expected to find the Doctor on her other side, but the space was empty; the covers pulled back.
Rose gently removed Jack’s arm from around her and hunted around for something to wear. She came up with her knickers and Jack’s undershirt pulling them on, and wandered out of the bedroom, finding the kitchen and bathroom both empty. She felt a sick twist in her stomach at the thought that the Doctor had left them, but it halted when she spotted him through the window of the sitting room, standing on the balcony that obviously wasn’t really supposed to be used as one. He was wearing his trousers and shirtsleeves, leaning on the railing, looking out at the city.
He turned around and gave her a nod, and she quietly opened window and climbed out to join him.
The night air hit her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What time is it?” she asked in a horse, low voice.
“Round half past two in the morning,” the Doctor replied. He turned to her and rubbed her arms comfortingly. “What’re you doing up?”
Rose shrugged. “I’d ask the same of you, but you never could sit still.”
He grinned. “You know me too well.”
She burrowed into him, resting her cheek against his chest as he looked out at the city around them. “Are you gonna talk to me now?”
He held her tighter. “Last time I was here was just before I met you.”
Rose looked up at him. His eyes were still on the city.
“Leonard Cohen and Janis Joplin were having a love affair in the room right next door, and during that time, Leonard wrote a song for her. It’s not really very romantic, but it’s one of my favorites.”
Rose pursed her lips.
The Doctor grinned down at her. “You don’t know who Leonard Cohen is.”
She shook her head and blushed.
He chuckled and she let him situate them so that he was sitting on the concrete of the balcony and she was sitting on his lap.
“Leonard Cohen was… well, is, he’s still alive… a folk musician.”
“Like Bob Dylan?”
“A bit like Bob Dylan but Leonard Cohen was Canadian…and he could actually sing.” He slid a hand underneath her shirt and rubbed her back gently. “Let’s see… Oh. You know the song Hallelujah? Everyone and their gran have covered it?”
Rose nodded. “Rufus Wainwright sang it in Shrek.”
The Doctor huffed impatiently. “Jeff Buckley most famously covered it.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Anyway. Leonard Cohen wrote and performed it originally.”
“That’s the song he wrote when you were here?”
“No,” the Doctor said. “No. He wrote a song titled Chelsea Hotel Number Two when I was here.”
“Makes sense. Chelsea Hotel song written at the Chelsea Hotel.”
He grinned.
“Sing it for me,” Rose said.
He scoffed gently and gave a laugh. “No.”
“Please?”
“Not on your life, Rose Tyler.”
She pulled away a little and looked him in the eyes. “You either sing me that song or you tell me what you’ve been refusing to tell me since I’ve been back.”
The Doctor hesitated before speaking. “Aren’t you hungry? New York has the best-“
He was cut off as Rose got to her feet and made for the window, obviously a bit fed up with him. He got up and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back. She looked sad.
He wrapped his other hand around her waist, swaying to the sounds of the city around them, and music only he could hear.
Rose was confused, until she heard him start to sing; quietly, but coherently.
“I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
You were talking to brave and so sweet.
Giving me head on the unmade bed
While the limousines waited in the street.”
Rose closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. She began to hum with his singing as she picked up the tone, and heard him smile.
When he finished the song, someone whistled from down bellow them. They both looked over the balcony to find a young man, wandering around. He looked up at them with a smile.
“Hey lady!” he said in a gravely voice. “Nice panties!”
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow, but Rose burst into a stunned laugh. He herded her back through the window, and shook his head incredulously, before following her, muttering something about still loving New York.
He watched her pulled her clothes off and climb back into the bed, taking Jack’s arm and wrapping it around her waist before pulling the sheets up over herself.
He didn’t bother pulling his clothes off before sliding into the empty space left for him on the mattress. He got as close to Rose as he could and wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes.
END