Incrementally (N/E)
Title: Incrementally (Adverbs Series, part 1)
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Emily/Naomi
Rating: PG-13 for now. Probably higher later.
Summary: After the Love Ball, Naomi and Emily have some things to work out.
A.N.: First Skins fic. I feel like there are so many things that E & N need to talk about and deal with from Series 3, so I want to try to attack some of them. I am not British (although I pretend sometimes) so if I’m using any slang incorrectly let me know. ☺ Feedback (positive/constructive criticism) is much appreciated.
***
When Naomi says, “I love you, too,” she’s telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean she suddenly believes everything is going to come easily.
“I’m probably going to be shit at this,” she informs Emily, their hands still clasped together. They haven’t let go of each other since walking out of college an hour ago, heading to the commons and settling into a quiet, dark, grassy spot. It was as though losing the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact was something neither could bear.
“What are you on about?” Emily looks at Naomi in trepidation, and Naomi feels a slight twinge that she is already ruining things, ruining this evening. But she can’t help all these feelings bottled up inside her, waiting to explode. She’d shown up to the Love Ball resigned to watching Emily from afar, letting the hurt build more layers of brick around her heart, and instead… there is this.
“I don’t think I’ll be a good--girlfriend,” Naomi manages to spit out. She is flushing slightly, and she draws in a sharp breath. “I’m shit at being nice and considerate: you said it yourself, I’m a bit of a twat.” She pauses and swallows, as the next words are hard to say. “And as crazy as they are, Ems, I can’t help but think your mum and Katie had a bit of a point.” Naomi looks down, tears once again crowding her eyes. This, all of this, is so unlike her.
“My mum,” Emily echoes. “When did you talk to my mum?” There’s an edge of anger in her voice, and Naomi isn’t quite sure whom it’s directed at.
Naomi flashes back to the conversation and the cold look in Mrs. Fitch’s eyes as she’d told Naomi to disappear. She’d wondered, in that moment, how Emily had turned out so differently from her mum and her sister. “I came to your house,” she says hollowly, “to tell you that I’d botched everything up. That I didn’t know if I could go to the Love Ball with you, but that it was because I was scared of what everyone would think of me. But it was morning and you were sleeping, and your mum came outside and saw me. She took me inside and sat me down and told me that you weren’t gay and that I was to leave you alone.” Emily’s hand squeezes hers almost painfully. “That I would screw you up. And, Em, I know I didn’t make you gay, but I can’t help but think that I will screw you up. That I’ve already screwed you up.”
She feels Emily pull her hand away, and for a second she thinks the other girl has realized the truth of Naomi’s statements, but then she feels fingers grasp her chin and force her to look up. Emily’s dark eyes are looking directly into hers, with the same affection they have been shining with for as long as Naomi can remember, now.
“You have hurt me,” she concedes, “but Naomi, there are reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. You’re smart and passionate and you care about things. And I know you care about me. I knew it all along, and that’s why I kept on, even when you did bollocks things up.” She lets a slight grin glance across her face, but then continues seriously. “Naomi, I don’t want to put pressure on you. Even after what I said when we were in your room. I just want us to be honest with each other, yeah?”
“Honest.” This time it’s Naomi’s turn to repeat. “I can try that, I suppose.” Emily’s hand relaxes its grip on Naomi’s chin, and Naomi leans against Emily almost bonelessly. Her voice becomes a whisper, buried somewhere in Emily’s collarbone. “I was so scared. In my room. I knew I was hurting you, and I was hurting myself, but I couldn’t help it.” Emily begins to stroke her hair, her warm fingers massaging the scalp, soothing. “It’s like it’s so easy to carry on and march for all these causes and call myself an activist, but when…” she trails off. “Fuck’s sake, I need a drink.”
“I should have kept some of JJ’s potato alcohol,” Emily tells her wryly. Naomi shakes her head and raises it a few inches to look at Emily straight on.
“No. I want to-I want to tell you this when I’m not off my face,” she admits.
“You use drugs and drink as an excuse,” Emily observes, but there’s no judgment in her voice. “But you were sober at my locker. That’s when I thought I knew, and why I was so upset after.”
“Yes,” Naomi agrees. That moment, for her, had been a breaking point. Up until then, she could lie to herself about the motivations she had in being close to Emily. But there, at Katie’s locker, the iron fist clenched tightly around Naomi’s heart had let go without the coaxing of MDMA or vodka or spliff. Knowing her racing heart and fuzzy head came just from the feeling of Emily’s lips on hers, Emily’s soft body and warm hands pressing and grasping, made an inarguable case that Naomi’s feelings were real. They were strong, dangerous, and undeniable. That made it all the more enticing to flee. “I couldn’t stay away from you. I still can’t. But I can’t promise I won’t run away again,” she admits. Then, chuckling weakly, she adds, “I think it runs in my family.”
“It’s okay to be scared, Naomi,” Emily tells her. Naomi is starting to shiver, maybe from the cool night or maybe from her confessions-probably a combination of both, so Emily puts her arms fully around her. They are thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. “You can just… talk to me about it. Or your mum. She seems alright, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Naomi affirms, and she lets her cheek brush against Emily’s. “My mum’s well understanding about stuff like this.” She almost rolls her eyes, but she’s lucky, she realizes, because in all the panic she’d had about all this gay stuff, she’d never thought her mum might take it badly. On the contrary, she’d wondered if her mum would consider it a job well done to raise a daughter who took to an ‘alternative lifestyle.’ It almost gave her another reason to cling to the belief that she was one hundred percent straight.
Naomi suddenly feels a warm drop against her skin, and she knows it’s not her own. Emily’s eyes are bright with tears, and Naomi’s stomach drops. She knows that Emily is probably thinking of her own mum. “Ems,” she murmurs. “S’okay.”
Emily shakes her head. “When did you talk to her?” Naomi knows she means Mrs. Fitch, and that it’s not quite a question. She tells her, and Emily lets out a strangled sob. “She knew.” There’s an emptiness in her voice that frightens Naomi.
“Knew what?”
“She doesn’t care,” Emily answers instead. “Well, she can fuck off. They all can.” And Naomi still isn’t quite sure what Emily is on about, but she can imagine, and all she wants to do is take her mind off of it. She wipes Emily’s tears away with the pad of her thumb and touches her face gently.
“I’m not going to fuck off,” she whispers. “Not today, and not tomorrow. That I can promise.” And there, in the commons, she kisses Emily gently. Naomi can taste the salt of her tears, and she presses her lips all over Emily’s face. This is the first time they’ve kissed since Emily’s confession at college and Naomi’s subsequent acceptance, and Naomi is lightheaded with the difference. She’s probably just mental, and the fact that Emily’s upset should really be working against this, but Naomi swears she feels everything magnified times a hundred. Now that she’s admitted freely to Emily that she does want--her, this, them-everything is freer and clearer and so much more.
Before Naomi can feel badly, Emily is kissing her back, tongue snaking into Naomi’s mouth. She begins to press Naomi back into the grass, but Naomi gently pulls away. “Let’s go home, Ems,” she sighs. At Emily’s questioning look, she clarifies, “To mine. Let me hold you and be there when you wake up in the morning, yeah?”
Emily nods. Naomi stands up, pulling the other girl with her, and feels how the ground has dampened her dress. But Emily is trembling slightly, so she pushes that thought aside, slides her hand up and down Emily’s arm once more, warming, and begins the journey home.
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Emily/Naomi
Rating: PG-13 for now. Probably higher later.
Summary: After the Love Ball, Naomi and Emily have some things to work out.
A.N.: First Skins fic. I feel like there are so many things that E & N need to talk about and deal with from Series 3, so I want to try to attack some of them. I am not British (although I pretend sometimes) so if I’m using any slang incorrectly let me know. ☺ Feedback (positive/constructive criticism) is much appreciated.
***
When Naomi says, “I love you, too,” she’s telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean she suddenly believes everything is going to come easily.
“I’m probably going to be shit at this,” she informs Emily, their hands still clasped together. They haven’t let go of each other since walking out of college an hour ago, heading to the commons and settling into a quiet, dark, grassy spot. It was as though losing the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact was something neither could bear.
“What are you on about?” Emily looks at Naomi in trepidation, and Naomi feels a slight twinge that she is already ruining things, ruining this evening. But she can’t help all these feelings bottled up inside her, waiting to explode. She’d shown up to the Love Ball resigned to watching Emily from afar, letting the hurt build more layers of brick around her heart, and instead… there is this.
“I don’t think I’ll be a good--girlfriend,” Naomi manages to spit out. She is flushing slightly, and she draws in a sharp breath. “I’m shit at being nice and considerate: you said it yourself, I’m a bit of a twat.” She pauses and swallows, as the next words are hard to say. “And as crazy as they are, Ems, I can’t help but think your mum and Katie had a bit of a point.” Naomi looks down, tears once again crowding her eyes. This, all of this, is so unlike her.
“My mum,” Emily echoes. “When did you talk to my mum?” There’s an edge of anger in her voice, and Naomi isn’t quite sure whom it’s directed at.
Naomi flashes back to the conversation and the cold look in Mrs. Fitch’s eyes as she’d told Naomi to disappear. She’d wondered, in that moment, how Emily had turned out so differently from her mum and her sister. “I came to your house,” she says hollowly, “to tell you that I’d botched everything up. That I didn’t know if I could go to the Love Ball with you, but that it was because I was scared of what everyone would think of me. But it was morning and you were sleeping, and your mum came outside and saw me. She took me inside and sat me down and told me that you weren’t gay and that I was to leave you alone.” Emily’s hand squeezes hers almost painfully. “That I would screw you up. And, Em, I know I didn’t make you gay, but I can’t help but think that I will screw you up. That I’ve already screwed you up.”
She feels Emily pull her hand away, and for a second she thinks the other girl has realized the truth of Naomi’s statements, but then she feels fingers grasp her chin and force her to look up. Emily’s dark eyes are looking directly into hers, with the same affection they have been shining with for as long as Naomi can remember, now.
“You have hurt me,” she concedes, “but Naomi, there are reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. You’re smart and passionate and you care about things. And I know you care about me. I knew it all along, and that’s why I kept on, even when you did bollocks things up.” She lets a slight grin glance across her face, but then continues seriously. “Naomi, I don’t want to put pressure on you. Even after what I said when we were in your room. I just want us to be honest with each other, yeah?”
“Honest.” This time it’s Naomi’s turn to repeat. “I can try that, I suppose.” Emily’s hand relaxes its grip on Naomi’s chin, and Naomi leans against Emily almost bonelessly. Her voice becomes a whisper, buried somewhere in Emily’s collarbone. “I was so scared. In my room. I knew I was hurting you, and I was hurting myself, but I couldn’t help it.” Emily begins to stroke her hair, her warm fingers massaging the scalp, soothing. “It’s like it’s so easy to carry on and march for all these causes and call myself an activist, but when…” she trails off. “Fuck’s sake, I need a drink.”
“I should have kept some of JJ’s potato alcohol,” Emily tells her wryly. Naomi shakes her head and raises it a few inches to look at Emily straight on.
“No. I want to-I want to tell you this when I’m not off my face,” she admits.
“You use drugs and drink as an excuse,” Emily observes, but there’s no judgment in her voice. “But you were sober at my locker. That’s when I thought I knew, and why I was so upset after.”
“Yes,” Naomi agrees. That moment, for her, had been a breaking point. Up until then, she could lie to herself about the motivations she had in being close to Emily. But there, at Katie’s locker, the iron fist clenched tightly around Naomi’s heart had let go without the coaxing of MDMA or vodka or spliff. Knowing her racing heart and fuzzy head came just from the feeling of Emily’s lips on hers, Emily’s soft body and warm hands pressing and grasping, made an inarguable case that Naomi’s feelings were real. They were strong, dangerous, and undeniable. That made it all the more enticing to flee. “I couldn’t stay away from you. I still can’t. But I can’t promise I won’t run away again,” she admits. Then, chuckling weakly, she adds, “I think it runs in my family.”
“It’s okay to be scared, Naomi,” Emily tells her. Naomi is starting to shiver, maybe from the cool night or maybe from her confessions-probably a combination of both, so Emily puts her arms fully around her. They are thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. “You can just… talk to me about it. Or your mum. She seems alright, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Naomi affirms, and she lets her cheek brush against Emily’s. “My mum’s well understanding about stuff like this.” She almost rolls her eyes, but she’s lucky, she realizes, because in all the panic she’d had about all this gay stuff, she’d never thought her mum might take it badly. On the contrary, she’d wondered if her mum would consider it a job well done to raise a daughter who took to an ‘alternative lifestyle.’ It almost gave her another reason to cling to the belief that she was one hundred percent straight.
Naomi suddenly feels a warm drop against her skin, and she knows it’s not her own. Emily’s eyes are bright with tears, and Naomi’s stomach drops. She knows that Emily is probably thinking of her own mum. “Ems,” she murmurs. “S’okay.”
Emily shakes her head. “When did you talk to her?” Naomi knows she means Mrs. Fitch, and that it’s not quite a question. She tells her, and Emily lets out a strangled sob. “She knew.” There’s an emptiness in her voice that frightens Naomi.
“Knew what?”
“She doesn’t care,” Emily answers instead. “Well, she can fuck off. They all can.” And Naomi still isn’t quite sure what Emily is on about, but she can imagine, and all she wants to do is take her mind off of it. She wipes Emily’s tears away with the pad of her thumb and touches her face gently.
“I’m not going to fuck off,” she whispers. “Not today, and not tomorrow. That I can promise.” And there, in the commons, she kisses Emily gently. Naomi can taste the salt of her tears, and she presses her lips all over Emily’s face. This is the first time they’ve kissed since Emily’s confession at college and Naomi’s subsequent acceptance, and Naomi is lightheaded with the difference. She’s probably just mental, and the fact that Emily’s upset should really be working against this, but Naomi swears she feels everything magnified times a hundred. Now that she’s admitted freely to Emily that she does want--her, this, them-everything is freer and clearer and so much more.
Before Naomi can feel badly, Emily is kissing her back, tongue snaking into Naomi’s mouth. She begins to press Naomi back into the grass, but Naomi gently pulls away. “Let’s go home, Ems,” she sighs. At Emily’s questioning look, she clarifies, “To mine. Let me hold you and be there when you wake up in the morning, yeah?”
Emily nods. Naomi stands up, pulling the other girl with her, and feels how the ground has dampened her dress. But Emily is trembling slightly, so she pushes that thought aside, slides her hand up and down Emily’s arm once more, warming, and begins the journey home.