Ever since she could remember, Tish Jones had dreamed of living in New York City. To her, it always seemed to be the height of sophistication. She realised it may have seemed like a strange notion. After all, she was born and raised in London. The average person would probably be hard pressed to imagine anywhere being more sophisticated than the home of the bleeding Queen of England.

New York City and London had a lot in common. They were both densely populated cosmopolitan metropolises, neither of which was particularly cheap to live in. They both had famous reputations for their food, fashion and culture.

The only difference for Tish was that London was familiar. It was comfortable. It was home. New York represented the unknown. It was full of adventures and possibilities.

But Tish supposed that the true allure of New York City was that it featured in her favourite show of all time, Sex and the City.

From the first episode, Tish had been hooked. She particularly felt a connection with the character of Samantha Jones. Samantha was strong and confident and outspoken, all the things that Tish prided herself on being.

Tish also appreciated Samantha's view on sex. She had never considered herself the type to crave commitment. So to see someone actively and shamelessly seek out sex just for the sake of physical gratification seemed revolutionary to Tish.

From that point on, Tish vowed that one day she'd be a woman that would make her fictional hero proud. She'd become an independent businesswoman with a career in public relations, get a fancy New York apartment and have plenty of racy adventures of her own.

So far, she had only managed the first part of her plan.

On paper, Tish had all the makings of a PR maven. She earned her BA in media and communications from Goldsmiths University of London and a MA in public relations as well as. Heck, her CV even included a position within the office of Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Granted, said Prime Minister was secretly a psychotic alien using her to closer to her sister and the Doctor, but at least she didn't have to lie to pad her resume.

Still, Tish was nowhere closer to making her dreams come true. At least not until her sister started dating Captain America.

To no avail, Tish had been begging her sister to slip her CV to Tony Stark ever since Martha moved to New York to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. She had almost given up hope until she got the opportunity to meet the man herself.

The meeting with Tony and the other Avengers had been impromptu, but luckily for Tish, she had been practicing her pitch for years. Luckily for Tony, Tish was a whiz at what she did. Luckily for both of them, Pepper Potts, AKA the real boss agreed. Pepper offered Tish a job on the spot, complete with a hefty salary and flat at the Continental in Midtown Manhattan.

Tish was two thirds of the way to reaching her goals. Dream job. Check. Swanky apartment with stunning views of the city. Double check. All that was left for Tish to create some adventures of her own and she had a few options in mind to get her started.

Tish pulled out her mobile. She searched her contacts for Sam Wilson's number and hit dial. After two rings, she heard an amused laugh on the other end of the line. "How long have you been in New York? Like two seconds and you're bothering me already?"

Tish scoffed. "For someone who doesn't want to be bothered, you sure answered pretty quickly."

"Maybe I just wanted to put you out of your misery."

"Or maybe you need me to lighten up your boring little life."

"Damn. Is that how it is?"

"'Fraid so."

Sam let out another amused huff. "How have you been?"

Tish leaned back into the sofa and propped her feet up. "Well I've just landed my dream job and I'm lounging away in posh new flat."

"Mmm. Look at you. Movin' on up like George and Weezie."

Tish laughed. "It's bloody gorgeous here," she glanced around the spacious living area. It was roomier than one might expect to find in the heart of Manhattan, but it also came with a large price tag that Tish was ever so grateful she did not have to personally fund. "You should see it."

"Are you granting me the first invitation to your kingdom?"

"Queendom," Tish corrected. "And technically, you'd be my second guest. Or third. Martha and Steve were here earlier helping me get settled in."

"Yea, but they don't count."

"Oi!" Tish scolded playfully. "That's my sister your on about. And your best mate."

"I don't mean they don't count. I just meant they were part of the process. No one else has been there since you got everything organized."

"I suppose you're right."

"Well then that's cause for celebration."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Have you eaten?"

"I had a quick bite earlier. Why?" Tish sat up a bit with a smile. "What are you planning?"

"You'll see when I get there," Sam insisted.

"Alright," Tish conceded. "I reckon I'll see you soon?" she asked, attempting to gauge how much time she had.

"Hmm…give me about half an hour."

"Alright, I'm in 38D. I'll see you then."

"See ya soon."

As soon as the call ended, Tish leapt off the sofa. Sam was on his way over to her flat and she was lounging about in yoga pants. Granted, they were some very nice Tory Burch yoga pants that she treated herself to for Christmas, but that was beside the point.

Sam Wilson was on his way over to her flat. Sam Wilson who she had been chatting up via text for months since they first met last summer. The very same Sam Wilson who had not so subtly hinted that he was looking forward to getting to know her better once they were both in the same city. That fine specimen of a man Sam Wilson who definitely could have gotten it from day one and probably would have if Tish hadn't been staying at her sister's place at the time.

Tish exhaled sharply. She needed to play it cool. It wasn't like she was gagging for it. Sure, she was interested. Who wouldn't be? Even Jack Harkness was impressed by Sam when they met, though there wasn't a man woman or sentient being alive – and possibly dead – to which Jack wasn't attracted.

Tish made her way to the washroom and flicked the light on, turning from left to right as she watched herself in the mirror. The yoga pants did wonders for her bum. In truth, her outfit wasn't bad. She paired the aforementioned yoga pants with a slouchy cream coloured dolman top. She was dressed for exactly what she had been doing, spending the day at home. Whatever happened between her and Sam wasn't a date and therefore wasn't worthy of the full glam treatment.

More importantly as someone whose job was centred on public perception, Tish always made a conscious effort to look well put together. That wasn't to say that she was prone to obsessively primping. It was quite the opposite. She had cultivated a regime of yielding maximum aesthetics with minimal effort.

She undid her high ponytail and shook loose her curls. The bigger question was whether she should bother with a bra or not. She usually didn't wear one at home. With her particular endowments, she didn't have to wear one at all which could be a blessing or a curse depending on the day or the outfit. She put her forearms under her chest and pushed upward. A push up bra could help her cause, but again that was too much effort for a non-date.

Tish dropped her arms in frustration. "What the hell am I doing?" She turned off the light and headed back out to the couch. This wasn't like her at all. So what was it about Sam that had her acting so out of sorts?