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May. 19th, 2009 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tassiaTitle: It Happened One Night
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Katie/Naomi
Rating: Teen, mentions of sex, drinking, and drug consumption, swearing, nothing explicit
Summary: It never happened, that's what they tell themselves.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, the characters, or anything at all to do with it. Surprise, surprise.
Author's Note: Crackfic! 485 words worth of delicious crack. Written forsivim27, who likes to break people's brains! :D Title is obviously from the movie of the same name, but bears absolutely no resemblance beyond that.
Emily and Effy are on the dance floor, practically having sex. In fact, Naomi can’t see hands, so they very well could be. Fucking hell. She’s getting fucked up on whatever she can get a hold of; so far, vodka and some pills of suspicious origin. It hasn’t quite kicked in when Katie stumbles over.
“Fucking lezza bitch!”
Naomi is about to tell her to sod off (she has no patience left for the twin tonight) when she notices, Katie is staring at the two figures that are positively convulsing together on the dance floor. She isn’t sure if Katie means Emily or Effy, but she decides it’s the better part of bravery not to ask; vodka and pills or not, Katie Fitch is a in a right mood and Naomi doesn’t feel like being eviscerated (especially when her heart is crumbling in her chest). She’s about ready to tell Katie to sod off anyway, she doesn’t do group brooding, but then the girl collapses in on herself. The redhead hunches down in the booth, fucking nurses a plastic cup of something and stares at the bodies writhing, and Naomi swears Katie Fitch is seconds from crying. She’s transfixed at first; she has half believed Katie Fitch was incapable of crying since their first confrontation. Eventually, she goes back to staring at the two figures with the same dogged intensity, chugging from the bottle she’s clutching at random intervals. And when Katie’s cup empties, she passes what’s left of the bottle to her without a word; their eyes meet briefly, and Naomi knows that’s as close to a thank you she will ever get.
They take turns venturing out into the crowd to procure more to drink. They don’t talk. Naomi thinks briefly (drunkenly) that the whole group brooding thing isn’t so bad. And later, when Effy and Emily finally stumble away to finish off in some form of privacy, Naomi and Katie stumble out clinging to each other. Like veterans who pull each other from the battlefield, inching along; too tired, too numb, too fucking blown to pieces to do anything more than just hold on to each other. They go to Naomi’s place in a tacit, silent agreement that neither of them wants to chance running into Emily, or Effy, or Effily.
And when they get there, the rip at clothes and kiss, and shove. Because Naomi is drunk and high enough that she can almost pretend Katie is Emily, and Katie just wants to fuck away whatever bits of feeling are left. Naomi is never sure, later, if she’s Katie’s proxy for Effy or Emily or both; she tries not to think about it. She doesn’t want to understand the twisted inner workings of Katie Fitch; she would rather not know Katie is capable of crying, either. Thankfully, they don’t talk.
“It never happened.”
And sometimes, Naomi almost thinks it never did.
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Katie/Naomi
Rating: Teen, mentions of sex, drinking, and drug consumption, swearing, nothing explicit
Summary: It never happened, that's what they tell themselves.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, the characters, or anything at all to do with it. Surprise, surprise.
Author's Note: Crackfic! 485 words worth of delicious crack. Written for
sivim27, who likes to break people's brains! :D Title is obviously from the movie of the same name, but bears absolutely no resemblance beyond that. Emily and Effy are on the dance floor, practically having sex. In fact, Naomi can’t see hands, so they very well could be. Fucking hell. She’s getting fucked up on whatever she can get a hold of; so far, vodka and some pills of suspicious origin. It hasn’t quite kicked in when Katie stumbles over.
“Fucking lezza bitch!”
Naomi is about to tell her to sod off (she has no patience left for the twin tonight) when she notices, Katie is staring at the two figures that are positively convulsing together on the dance floor. She isn’t sure if Katie means Emily or Effy, but she decides it’s the better part of bravery not to ask; vodka and pills or not, Katie Fitch is a in a right mood and Naomi doesn’t feel like being eviscerated (especially when her heart is crumbling in her chest). She’s about ready to tell Katie to sod off anyway, she doesn’t do group brooding, but then the girl collapses in on herself. The redhead hunches down in the booth, fucking nurses a plastic cup of something and stares at the bodies writhing, and Naomi swears Katie Fitch is seconds from crying. She’s transfixed at first; she has half believed Katie Fitch was incapable of crying since their first confrontation. Eventually, she goes back to staring at the two figures with the same dogged intensity, chugging from the bottle she’s clutching at random intervals. And when Katie’s cup empties, she passes what’s left of the bottle to her without a word; their eyes meet briefly, and Naomi knows that’s as close to a thank you she will ever get.
They take turns venturing out into the crowd to procure more to drink. They don’t talk. Naomi thinks briefly (drunkenly) that the whole group brooding thing isn’t so bad. And later, when Effy and Emily finally stumble away to finish off in some form of privacy, Naomi and Katie stumble out clinging to each other. Like veterans who pull each other from the battlefield, inching along; too tired, too numb, too fucking blown to pieces to do anything more than just hold on to each other. They go to Naomi’s place in a tacit, silent agreement that neither of them wants to chance running into Emily, or Effy, or Effily.
And when they get there, the rip at clothes and kiss, and shove. Because Naomi is drunk and high enough that she can almost pretend Katie is Emily, and Katie just wants to fuck away whatever bits of feeling are left. Naomi is never sure, later, if she’s Katie’s proxy for Effy or Emily or both; she tries not to think about it. She doesn’t want to understand the twisted inner workings of Katie Fitch; she would rather not know Katie is capable of crying, either. Thankfully, they don’t talk.
“It never happened.”
And sometimes, Naomi almost thinks it never did.