Fic: Christmas Reunion
Title: Christmas Reunion
Characters: Gen 2
Rating: PG
Words: 6,645
Summary: The gang get together again for Christmas
Disclaimer: Not my characters
A/N: I wrote an ensemble Christmas fic last year for shan_3414 so when she requested a post S4 one for skinswishlist I sort of couldn't help myself. This one is definitely more depressing than last year, but I hope that's alright.
I hope everyone has a merry Christmas or just a happy Saturday if they don't celebrate!
Christmas sort of just creeps up on her. Before she knows it, it's December 20th --less than one week to go -- and she's still not bought anything. It results in a day of panic buying everything and anything in sight, and only when she gets home does she realise that she has no one to give The Wanted’s new album to and that James doesn't wear orange because it doesn't complement his skin colouring.
She chucks the bags in the corner of her room, kicking her heels off at the same time, and then collapses back on to her bed. Her eyes settle on the wall opposite, pictures of all the old gang tacked there, the odd family one dotted in between. She smiles at the memories, some pleasant, some less so. Like the night that they all got so blazing drunk that Cook convinced them it'd be a good idea to go skinny dipping at the docks (it wasn't). Or that time when her and Freddie had a really awkward double date with Thomas and Pandora, and Panda had ended up ordering every desert off the menu, "just to check".
She misses them, bad memories and all. Things aren't really the same now. Emily's still off gallivanting with Naomi, lezzing it up on some beach, and they won't be back until next year for the start of uni. And even then, Emily's not going to be in Bristol, so it'll never go back to how it was. Pandora's sorted everything out with Thomas, and Katie thinks it's going really well, but they don't really get a chance to talk very much because of the time difference and the amount of work Pandora's got, and the rest of it is filled with Thomas. Effy's in and out of that Psych ward like they're paying her. She's not got a clue what JJ's doing, he was always bad at stuttering whenever he spoke to her, but after the funeral it only got worse. Cook's been in prison and isn't due -- Katie frowns. December 18th. That can't be right, because he'd have phoned. Still, she picks up her phone and flicks through her old texts until she finds the one she's looking for and it makes her furrow her eyebrows.
He got out two days ago.
***
Living back at his mum's house could be worse, Cook supposes. At least here there's as much food as he'd like. And Paddy's about, which is good for the most part. Bad for him to stay by himself, that's what they'd said to him before he got out. He's meant to reintegrate himself into society or some bollocks. But he's not really in the mood for seeing anyone apart from Pads, cause everyone else looks at him with pity, or disappointment, (like beating that fucker till he couldn't get up wasn't the right thing to do or something equally stupid) but Paddy, nah, he's a cool kid, he just wants to kick a ball around, or batter some notes out on Guitar Hero, and he wants Cook to join in. He can deal with that, playing games, forgetting about things, so he sticks with it. During the day though, Cook's been left in the house alone. His mum will be sent to the nick if Pads gets caught dogging again, so she's pretty uptight about getting him there, before she spends all her day getting pissed down in the basement that she calls a studio.
The house ain't as small as his prison cell -- it's too big if anything -- but he still feels trapped in it. It's only been three days, but there ain't much to do in this house but drink, he doesn't even bother getting dressed in the morning anymore -- that only lasted a day.
He pulls a six-pack out the fridge and settles down on the living room sofa. He knows that he shouldn't, knows what Freddie would say -- "Lunchtime Neighbours hasn't even aired yet Cook, can't you at least wait till Home and Away?" -- and he throws his neck right back, tips the bottle up, gulps the beer down as fast as he can and thinks fuck it, what's the point anymore?
He's got five bottles down him in what must be a record time, even for him. It feels a little more normal, and that's both good and bad. Flicking the telly on gives him the opening bars of the Neighbours theme song, which isn't going to be much of a distraction, so he turns it over to some shopping channel and he's just thinking about the possibility of a lunchtime wank over the old orange faced presenter with saggy tits when the door goes.
A red blur pushes past him and into the house before he can even moan about having to get up to answer the door.
"Katie? What you doing here?"
Katie doesn't even bother turning round to look at him. "We're having a party. You're helping."
The way she says it sounds more like an order rather than a question and Cook doesn't know exactly what he's meant to say, so he says nothing.
She twists her head around, and looks at him like he might be a bit on the slow side. "A party, yeah? You still remember how those go?"
Cook laughs. "Course babe. Me, you an' a bottle of something to keep us company." He stretches his hand out so as to cop a feel of her arse, it's looking well good in that skirt, but she swats it away.
"No. This party's actually going to be fun."
"That could have been fun!" Cook protests.
She looks at him witheringly, before pulling out a notebook. "Now, Neil's sorted out a private room in Dojo’s for us, and he said that he'll pay for all our drinks, so --"
She stops when she sees the look on Cook's face. "What?"
"Your boyfriend's a twatty ponce Katiekins."
Katie's face sets in a hard line, and she smacks him round the head. "He's not a ponce. He's rich. And you only met him once. And anyway, if he wants to pay for everything then why are you even complaining?"
Cook shrugs. "Small problemo with your master plan anyhow."
"What?"
"Can't come, can I?" He answers, indicating his new permanent fashion accessory, the heavy plastic cuff round his ankle. "7pm curfew."
Katie takes one look at it and sighs exasperatedly.
***
She leaves dirty footprints behind her in the virgin snow. It's a metaphor for so many things, Effy muses. None more so than her and Freddie, both then and now. Freddie was no virgin, true, and no innocent either, not in the strictest sense of the word.
But love, that was another matter entirely.
She doesn't want to take another step, to disrupt the scene any further, this pretty as a picture scene of headstones, most tilted at angles bar one, one new one which sparkles with the reflected sunlight, but if she wants to be close to him then she's got to ruin it, and again, wasn't that just a reflection of them in another age.
She doesn't say anything when she comes here. There's nothing to say. What good is sorry now? Her dad tries it, her mum says it daily, sorry -- sorrysorrysorry -- everyone at the funeral, well they were sorry too. Everyone is sorrysorrysorry. It makes her feel hollow. So she doesn't say it to him, because Freddie doesn't need to feel that now.
She drags her finger across the top of his gravestone, marking a line in the snow. The black marble underneath contrasts sharply. The bad. The good. Infiltrating, contaminating, working from the inside out, the outside in, destroying everything. She drags her hand across the full length of the stone, clearing it of snow completely, leaving it black. Her fingers make their way to the indentations marked there, skate past the “In Loving Memory” inscription, and over to his name, tracing the F. As she does, she remembers so vividly the small dimple he had, the small rise and fall, faint. A perfect imperfection.
Sometimes he talks to her. Rarely is it more than Effy, or I really fucking love you. Rarer still he smiles, she can feel it in the air and it just... she knows, when it happens.
She doesn't tell her therapist. They'll say it's bad, that it should go away, that she shouldn't have it. But she doesn't want them to take it away, and she doesn't want to forget, because it happened and she needs to remember it in case they try to take him away as well. They say they want to take her grief away. But she needs that as well, and if she can't have Freddie -- she didn't deserve Freddie -- then she has to keep it close.
She sinks to her knees in front of him, ignores the cold, ignores the wet, rests her head against his grave, closes her eyes and tries to think of anything other than sorrysorrysorry.
---
"Effy." It's faint, but she hears it, and smiles.
It's Freddie, he's talking to her again. "Eff. Open your eyes for me."
She can't. She doesn't want to anyway, not when she can hear him. And feel him. There's warm arms surrounding her, masculine arms, the smell isn’t quite right, something about it is off, but it still feels safe, so she doesn't worry about trying to open her eyes. Instead, she clings on to him tighter.
***
They’re just at the end of her street when Emily reaches up and tugs the Santa hat perched on top of Naomi’s head straight.
“It’s fine Ems, leave it,” Naomi whinges, swatting her hand away. “I don’t even want to wear anyway.”
Emily laughs at her petulance. “But it looks sexy. And I can’t be the only one to wear one, it’ll look stupid.”
“Already looks stupid,” Naomi huffs. “Katie better fucking appreciate this. I can’t believe we’ve come back just to surprise her for Christmas.”
Emily sighs. “It’s Christmas. Me and Katie, we always do Christmas together, it’s just… how it’s meant to be.”
It’s Naomi’s turn to sigh. “It’s a good job I love you, you know,” she says eventually, leaning down to kiss Emily on the cheek.
She laughs in response. “Come on then, the sooner we get there, the sooner I can think of some way to reward you for your infinite patience.”
---
She’s a little nervous before she rings the bell, and Naomi must notice it, because she gets a squeeze to the hand and it gives her the little bit of reassurance that she needs to get on with it.
It’s Katie who answers the door, not really paying that much attention until she eventually notices who it is, and then, suddenly, she’s rushing towards her with arms open wide. “Emily!”
Emily smiles into Katie’s shoulder. She’s missed this. She’s missed home.
Katie draws back first. “Why’d you ring the doorbell, stupid cow, you’ve got a key.”
Emily laughs. “Glad to see nothing’s changed here. Come on then, I’m in desperate need of a proper cup of tea.”
---
Katie’s got a new boyfriend. He sounds like a wanker, but she’s happy, so Emily says she’s happy for her.
“He was going to throw us a Christmas party as well. But Cook couldn’t come because of his tag, and Effy’s still fucked up. I didn’t know you were both coming back. So I told him to cancel it. We’ll reschedule, he’ll still pay and everything, I’ll make sure, and it won’t be the same, but at least it’s something. The end of January is going to suit us all best I think, but I’ll need to check with Effy that it would work with her pill cycle and that she’s not going to be fucking miserable, because I will not have her ruining my party with all her emo shit.”
Emily’s gut sinks. She should have mentioned something earlier, shouldn’t have let Katie just assume. Naomi’s looking over at her with a concerned expression as well, but Emily knows this will be better coming from her rather than Naomi, so she speaks up. “Katie? Um, about, that. We’re…well we’ll be flying out two days after New Years.”
Katie looks at her, confused. “But you just came back.”
“Well, yeah, Katie, but just for Christmas. We’re not staying.”
Katie puts her mug down on the table extremely carefully and then looks back towards Emily. She doesn’t need to say anything, the disappointment is visible.
“Katie…” Emily says, but it’s ignored and Katie marches up towards her room, leaving her and Naomi alone.
Naomi grimaces. “That went well.”
***
Later, once she’s got her and Emily’s bags back to her mums, and Emily’s fully installed with the camera, setting it up to the computer so as to show her mum and Kieran every single one of the five million pictures they took of India, Naomi makes a weak excuse about going to catch up with Cook. Neither Emily nor her mum pay her the blindest bit of attention, so she doesn’t hang around to let them question her further.
This time it’s James that answers the door, with a “Whoa, Naomi, you look hot with a tan! Wait right there, I’ve got to show you the cut on my new number.” She feigns interest -- and a little bit of her is interested, but like, in the same way that a car crash is interesting -- and while he scampers away to get her dress, she makes her way to Katie’s room with a shake of the head.
Katie huffs when she sees who it is. “What do you want?”
“Seriously?”
Katie’s arms fold across her chest. “What are you even doing here, Naomi?”
Naomi sighs, clearly they’re going to have to do this Katie’s way. “She wanted to come back and do Christmas properly, with you. Which is a problem, if you’re not going to speak to her.”
She doesn’t say anything, making Naomi sigh again and decide on a change of tact. “She missed you Katie. And apparently no matter how much leopard print I wear, I don't make a suitable replacement.”
Katie laughs despite herself. “You’re such a cow.”
Naomi grins. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Is it sorted now? You’ll call her?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call her.”
“Cool. So, this party then. It’s a goer now?”
“No. Neil’s already cancelled the room, and he can’t get it back, not now. And Cook couldn’t come cause of his tag, but actually, that might be a good thing.”
“So we need a venue?” Naomi thinks for a bit. “Leave it with me, I think I’ve got an idea.”
---
Cook gives her a bear hug when he sees her, lifts her off her feet and yells "Naomikins!" in her ear, spinning them both around until she feels like she's going to puke. When he eventually puts her down, he's still grinning excitedly, like a little boy on Christmas day.
"What the hell are you doing here Blondie? What happened to the beach? How was the holiday? What did you get me?" He stops abruptly. "Wait, where's Em? You guys haven't had a fight or nothing?"
Naomi's quite offended by the insinuation that she couldn't manage to keep Emily happy for four months at a time without them having to have a massive fight. "Oh, nice. Just assume I've fucked up then? Can't I come round to visit my favourite jail bird?"
"Didn't say nothing about you being the one to fuck up love, just saying that there's your hip, right? Now normally there's this small thing with red hair attached to it. Except today, nada."
Naomi rolls her eyes. "We came back for Christmas. She's at my mum's. I made a bid for freedom."
He laughs, slinging an arm round her shoulders. "Fair enough then. Now, seriously, what did you bring me back?"
---
After a small catch up -- she learns that jail was alright the second time around once he'd learnt to keep his head down -- and a beer -- which seems to be the only liquid Cook's drinking these days -- she brings up the tag.
He shrugs. "It's ok. Fuckers put it on too tight though. And they're proper strict on it now, after last time with Pads and that. But it's better than being in there full time."
"I saw Katie," Naomi starts hesitantly. "She said about the party, and that you couldn't go."
He doesn't say anything, instead takes another swig from his can.
"It's just, Katie's going to do my head in if she doesn't get this party, and I need to get my mum away from Emily before she does something ridiculous like get the baby photos out. So, I was thinking, what if we had the party here? I mean, there's no rules against that is there?"
Cook tilts his head to the side, and thinks for a few seconds. "I always knew there was a reason I liked you Blondie. You're clever."
***
Pandora has never been so excited in all of her life. Apart from every Christmas Eve, of course, but this is like the best Christmas present anyway, cause she's back from Harvard, and she's going to see Effy, and they're going to see each other, and then Effy's going to come to the party that Katie's having at Cook's house, and it's going to be awesome -- that’s what America would say, Pandora’s been working on the lingo. She skips up their path, doing a bit of hopscotch, smiling to herself when she manages to get all the way without touching any cracks in the paving, and rings the bell.
"Tony! Wizzer, you're back! Bet Effy's flipping delighted to see you. Is she about? Got to catch up and gossip about boys and things."
Tony doesn't look as happy to see her as she is to see him, but maybe she's being "over-keen" like her mum always says, so she takes a deep breath to calm down.
"Actually Pandora, Effy's not really --"
"I'm fine," Effy interrupts coming down the stairs behind Tony's back.
"Effy!" Pandora shouts, and pushes her way past Tony and throws herself at Effy. "Blooming heck Eff, you ain't half got more bony. Wish I could, but they always try and give you more food in America, even when you think you're going to burst, except not really cause that'd be gross, and somehow if you think hard enough then you can find some room anyway and keep on going. Mum says I'm going to blow up like a balloon."
Effy smiles fondly, and Pandora feels happier from the outside in. "We're having a party tomorrow night. And I'm here to invite you. It's Katie's party, but it's at Cook's house, because he's not allowed to leave or he'll have to go back to the chokey. There's going to be a wacker load of food there. Katie's buying it right now with JJ. You're coming, right?"
"No," Tony says, which is a little rude given that Pandora said she was here to invite Effy, not Effy and Tony, but then, there's no reason why he couldn't come she supposes. Apart from that he said no.
Effy's looking at him, sort of like how Pandora looks at her mum sometimes, when she knows she's going to do something that her mum'll get mad at. "I'm going."
Tony shakes his head. "Effy. You know that's a bad idea, you know that --"
"You're not dad, Tony."
He takes a long breath and sighs. "Fine. But I'm coming with you. And no drugs."
"Fine."
"And no alcohol either."
Effy shrugs. "Whatever."
"Great!" Pandora exclaims. "I'll just need to phone Katie."
***
"And two of those JJ," she commands, pointing at a high shelf out of her reach.
He frowns. "I don't... Katie, what are they?"
"They're little trinkets for everyone’s glasses, to personalise them and make them festive, so that no one will get their drinks mixed up."
"Right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, which I doubt, but if we buy two packets, won't there be a duplication and therefore the confusion that the product is meant to eliminate, remains."
Katie looks at him in this way, and immediately he remembers what his mum had taught him years ago: that a woman is always right, even when she's wrong, and especially when the core subject is shopping. "We need two, so stop with the science crap and put them in the trolley will you?"
"Yes, of course, sorry, my mistake."
"How much have we spent so far?"
JJ looks at the burgeoning trolley before him. "Quite a lot I think."
"Well can't you work out? It's maths yeah, that's your thing -- Oh, wait, that's my phone."
JJ sets to work calculating what they've picked up so far. According to Katie, Cook's house is currently a Christmas-free zone, so they've had to buy everything. There's the Christmas tree, twelve packets of fairy lights, twenty metres of tinsel, five "Merry Christmas" banners, a nodding Santa decoration, a singing doorbell, three boxes of Christmas crackers, a twig of mistletoe, seven different types of party platters, ten share size bags of crisps, dips, forty-eight mince pies, a pyramid of Ferrero Rocher (apparently they’re well classy, and a must for all party occasions) and various other food items that JJ's never heard of. Then there's the alcohol. Twelve bottles of premium brand vodka (and at this point JJ had mentioned a small concern about the price, which was dismissed with a flippant, don’t worry about it, Neil's paying with his plastic fantastic), four bottles of cider, three bottles of mulled wine, another bottle of rose, two crates of beer, and another of lager (what's the difference, she'd asked, and once he'd explained that lager was actually a type of beer, she shrugged and dumped it in the trolley anyway).
Once she's finished her phone call, he announces he has a very rough estimate of £427.
"Change of plan," she replies. "Effy's not allowed to be near any alcohol." She marches off, and when she realises that he's not following, she turns round. "Keep up then, we've got to put all that shit back and buy some fucking Coke now."
***
Katie spends the whole day round at his putting up decorations and stuff like that to make it more festive apparently. It’s a pain in the arse really, cause she expects him to wear clothes while he’s in her presence as if she’s the fucking Queen or something. JJ’s round as well, which is cool, but he’s being the lapdog and doing what he’s told by Katie. But before Katie gives him something boring to do Cook decides to assign himself the job of getting rid of as many beers as he can before Effy gets there. The answer is quite a lot, so when the new singing doorbell goes (the one that JJ nearly electrocuted himself on when he was wiring it in) he’s still got a beer in his hand when he goes to get it.
Cook opens the door with a “Let’s go fucking MENTAL!”
Tony takes a look at Effy standing next to him, and then back to Cook. “I don’t think so,” he says, plucking the beer can out of his hand and throwing over his shoulder. “Seriously,” he says to Effy as they walk in. “Him? I thought I’d taught you about standards Eff.”
Cook frowns. He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be taking shit off this guy when they’re in his house for a party, but then again, he knows Tony’s story. He took on a bus and came out on top, so fair play, the guy’s allowed one strike, but anything after that Cook reckons is fair game.
The lesbians turn up next, and Pandora and Thomas not far behind them and Cook reckons that’s it, everyone’s there, time to get this party started. So when the door goes again, he’s a bit confused. He does a quick head count and tries to work out who’s missing, but pulls a blank.
Turns out to be Katie’s flash arse boyfriend, and he’s every little bit as much of an arrogant prick as Cook remembers. His jacket gets tossed towards Cook, and an instruction to hang it up somewhere proper, because apparently Neil doesn’t like creases. “Least you can do, Jamesy boy, seeing as I’m paying for all this palaver, eh? Good chap. Oh, and my car’s parked round the side, didn’t want it to catch anything nasty from some of the rust buckets out front! I’m only joking about that of course. Though I did park my car a safe distance away, just on the off chance. You don’t want to be liable for any scratches of course.”
Cook grimaces a reply, and tries to work out if the three months he’d have to spend on the inside for breaking early release conditions would be worth it if he got to knock that smug git’s face in.
***
It’s not exactly the most rock and roll party she’s ever been to. In fact, it might be the least. But it’s ok.
Katie’s running around to check every tiny little detail is just right, and in between times keeps asking people if they’ve seen Neil, who has apparently managed to get lost.
Tony’s taken it upon himself to be big brother extraordinaire for one night only, and as such is keeping a tight control over any suspicious looking activity. For now though he seems satisfied enough to be playing Guitar Hero, and is currently getting his ass handed to him by Cook’s little brother.
Emily and JJ are engaged in what looks like a deep and meaningful discussion, and Effy notices Naomi sitting just a little bit further back, watching the two of them intently.
Effy creeps up behind her. “Jealous?” she whispers by her ear.
Naomi starts. “Jesus Eff.”
“Well?”
Naomi shakes her head. “No. Not jealous, not anymore.”
Effy raises an eyebrow.
“It all worked out, didn’t it? And I’m not an immature twat anymore, which I’ve found helps.”
It makes her smile, Naomi being honest. Effy sits down beside her, curls her legs up underneath her body.
“Want a top up?” Naomi asks, nodding at the empty cup in her hand.
Effy shrugs. “It’s only Coke.”
Naomi grins. “Soon sort that out then, won’t we?” Glancing sideways she quickly checks Tony is well and truly occupied before reaching into her oversized bag and slipping out a bottle of vodka. “Had it since duty free,” she says by way of explanation. “And you look like you need it.”
Effy smiles as the sharp taste hits the back of her throat. She won’t get away with a lot while Tony’s here (he might not be her dad, but in this instance, that means she’ll actually listen to him), but even the smallish splash that Naomi poured is helping take the edge off.
***
She’s been cradling her drink for quite some time before heading across to him, and when she eventually gets there, she shifts on her feet and thrums her fingers against her glass before she comes out with, "Hi, Thomas."
He smiles, trying to put her at ease a little; to make her less worried looking. "Hello Naomi."
"Um, I just... How's Harvard?"
Thomas nods. "It is good, hard work but rewarding. The equipment is excellent, and the weather, well, it is better too. And you? Travelling?"
He watches Naomi's face visibly relax and a smile appears, a genuine one. "It's been great. We're going to Mexico after New Year, maybe Brazil as well if we can get the money." Her smile fades, and she finishes the rest of her drink in one attempt. She looks around the room, her gaze settling on her feet. "Look, Thomas, I just... I never said thank you. You know, for... Well, you could have said something and you didn't. So, thanks."
She looks up then, and he understands why she was nervous before. This is not the Naomi that he knows, this is the Naomi from the bar, begging him to keep quiet about the drugs, the Naomi from Freddie's shed, apologising to Emily, professing love, the Naomi who is vulnerable. This is a tortured soul, and she is looking to him for absolution.
"It is in the past Naomi. We both have other things now.” He nods towards the others, where Pandora and Emily are dancing in the most ridiculous fashion. “We should look forward, not back." Pandora has seen him looking over, and is now waving manically for them to join in. He holds up a finger, indicating he will be one minute. "When you are travelling, if you ever wanted to, then Harvard is not so far. You and Emily would always be welcome."
She looks surprised by his offer.
"You do not need to decide just now. Talk with Emily."
"Yeah, I will. Thanks."
He shrugs. "Now," he says nodding his head towards Emily, who is now stretching her hand out towards them, and Pandora who is still waving manically. "I think we are both wanted."
***
Cook’s heading for an empty room -- he’s fed up of this no drinking malarkey and it’s just not doing it for him tonight -- when he hears them, little grunts, a moan, and suddenly this party’s picking up.
He inches the door open and then clears his throat. “Oi oi! What’s going on in ’ere then?”
It’s a bare arse that greets him, a guy pinning some woman up on the desk, some woman who --
“Mum?! Oh naw, nah man, what the fuck are you doing?” And that guy, Cook looks at him again and… that guy’s Katie’s boyfriend, that proper fucking tosser.
“Didn’t they teach you sex ed at that place you went?” she drawls, as if it’s nothing, that she’s sat there with all her bits out, a kid half her age between her thighs.
He’s proper pissed off now, really raging, almost red mist style, but he catches himself just in time, because he can’t. He’s got too much to lose, and he can’t go back on the inside, which he would, if he were to lamp this guy like he wants to. He punches the wall instead, hard as he can, and makes his knuckles bleed.
“Piss off now Jimmy, mummy’s busy, ok?”
It makes him sick, that does, he just wants her to fuck right off, just shut her stupid mouth. He storms away, finds a room down the hall where he’s sure Katie left an emergency crate of beer.
---
When the door opens, about a half hour later, he’s surprised. “Didn’t think you'd be coming.”
Karen shrugs. “I didn't think I was going to, to be honest. I don't feel up for much really, but dad said I should, you know, get things back to normal.” He snorts at that and she nods. “I know, but I’ve got to try.”
He shakes his head, there's no words to add, and even of there was, he sure as hell don't have them. "Not much of a party this," is what he comes up with, and she shrugs again.
"It's ok. I'm not really in the mood anyway."
Cook shakes his head and passes her over a bottle from his collection. "Me either. Just walked in on my mum and Katie's poncy boyfriend getting busy. 'S not really a family moment to share."
"Jesus, your mum?"
"Yeah." He shrugs. "She's got previous. Done Freddie back in the day."
"No way. That's disgusting"
"Nah, serious. She blew him."
"Ew, stop! That's my brother."
Cook grins. "Yeah, and that's my mum. He had a bit of cheek, didn't he? Going off on one when he found out about me and you I mean."
"Oh my God, he knew about that?"
"JJ spilled."
Karen rolls her eyes and brings her hand up to cover her face.
"I miss him. Stupid bastard. He should be here."
Karen peels her hand away and looks up at him. "You did your best Cook," she offers.
He looks away. "Wasn't good enough though, was it?"
"It was. He'd have been proud. You never gave up on him, and that's... that's all he ever wanted from you."
The tears prick at his eyes and he rubs them fiercely. "I loved him, I really fucking loved him, you know? And now he's, he's..." He swallows the words back down when he sees Karen’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. He reaches across and brushes one away with his thumb. "Sorry."
"No," she says, grabbing hold of his wrist. "I know. It's ok."
She's got big eyes, Cook notices. Like his. And he doesn't want to see them so sad anymore.
It's the first time that he's ever hesitated when about to kiss anyone, normally it's do now think later, normally rejection doesn't matter. This time though, everything's at stake.
Her lips taste salty from the tears, and he makes it his mission to get rid of that, kissing her softly until he can't taste the tears anymore, and her mouth parts against his, hot, wet and inviting. She's clinging to him, her nails digging into his wrist and her other hand in his hair, pulling him ever closer. There's an air of desperation about this that wasn't here the only other time that they have done this, and it's a sobering realisation, how much things have changed.
"Karen," he mumbles into her mouth. "Karen, stop," he says again when she doesn't let up. She backs off then, and refuses to make eye contact with him. "I don't wanna fuck up. Things are too fucked up already, and I don't want to fuck up anymore." He licks at his now dry lips, and takes her hand from where it hangs now by her side. "We could do it proper. I want to do it proper. Just... let's... not like this, yeah?"
She brings her eyes to his slowly before she nods. "You're not going to..." she says in a small voice, unable to finish the question, but Cook could guess what was coming. He's given her enough reason to suspect it of him.
"I'm not going to fuck up anymore, ok?" he answers firmly.
Karen nods again, her eyes still watery.
"Come 'ere," he says, pulling her back towards him with an arm around her waist, wraps the other over her shoulder, hugs her tightly and lets his fingers tangle in her hair.
"I didn’t used to believe Freddie when he said you were good deep down," she mumbles into his neck.
Cook lets go of a laugh. "Smart boy, our Freds."
***
Tony sees Katie standing alone on the other side of the room. She looks mad at something -- raging in fact -- but there's something else as well. Unsure maybe, and he doesn't even know her at all, but he can't help his curiosity from leading him over and asking if she's all right.
"Yes," she answers with bite. "Why wouldn't I be? It's Christmas."
Tony knows he's good at handling people generally, but he's unable to find a good way of explaining to an upset woman that the reason he asked if she was ok is because she didn't look ok. He shrugs in absence of an explanation. "Find your boyfriend then?"
"Yeah I found him," she says bitterly. "Fucking someone else."
"Oh," Tony says, and realises that a lot hinges on his next comment. "He was a bit of a prick, wasn’t he?"
"Yeah," Katie agrees. "But he was rich."
Tony laughs. "You wanna get revenge?"
Katie raises her eyebrows. "Always."
"Good," he grins. "Give me a minute, I've got a plan."
---
He's back, true to his word, in a minute's time, with a glint in his eye and a swagger in his step. "Fancy a spin?" he asks, dangling a car key in front of her face.
She grins in response.
---
"I'm not really into cars," she tells him. "But a BMW, that's quite a good one isn't it?"
He laughs. "Not for much longer it won't be," he says and opens the passenger door for her.
---
He floors it, skids into and around corners, burns as much rubber as he can -- which is admittedly not a lot because there's still snow on the ground -- but it's good fun. This Neil guy may be a prick, and crap with girls, but he has a fucking top car.
Katie is screaming when he slides to a stop, but then laughs when she realises he had it all under control. He can still feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, a good buzz, a legal -- except not quite -- high.
"You want a go?"
---
He'd teach her about gears and clutches and stuff like that, except there'd be no fun left if she did it properly, so he doesn't. Instead he instructs her to keep her foot down on the clutch, he shifts the car to first gear, and then tells her to lift the clutch and floor the accelerator at the same time.
"It's that easy?" she asks, her knuckles white as she grips the wheel.
"Yeah, sure. Easy," he says convincingly.
She doesn't stall it, which is good, but as soon as they're moving, she screams at him for more instructions on what she should do next, and he's laughing, cause they're doing maybe ten miles an hour at most, crawling down the road, but it turns out that Katie doesn't appreciate that, and takes her hand off the wheel to hit him, resulting in the car sliding off the road and coming to rest with a bump against a tree.
"Oh my God," she says, covering her face with her hands. "I’ve scratched it. There’s a scratch. What are we going to do?"
Tony shrugs. "Collateral damage. Good first lesson I'd say."
She laughs breathlessly. "I can't believe I just did that. Fuck. It felt good though. Wanker deserved it. Thanks," she says, turning to him.
"Yeah, no problem," he replies. "You know Katie, for a cool girl you've shit taste in men."
She smiles. "I'm working on it," she says, and leans over to kiss him.
***
It’s late by now, and people have paired off, settled down on couches against each other, on the verge of sleep.
But Effy’s still wide awake. It’s Christmas Eve, and he should be here. He should be here rolling a joint for them all to pass around. He should be here to let her head fall against his shoulder, to keep her warm. To kiss her under the mistletoe and be involved in all the other stupid festive traditions that Effy doesn’t like, or believe in anyway. But he should be there to do them.
He’s not though, and he’s never going to be back. And it’s something that she’s going to have to get used to. To not think about what should be, and instead concentrate on what is, even when the lines are blurred.
She leaves everyone sleeping and travels through the house, ends up by the back door, and steps out into the cold. She perches on the step, wraps her arms around her legs and clutches them close to her body for warmth.
It’s a clear night, and the stars are out, the moonlight bright. She rests her chin on her knees and wonders if he can see the stars from where he is.
She hopes so.
Characters: Gen 2
Rating: PG
Words: 6,645
Summary: The gang get together again for Christmas
Disclaimer: Not my characters
A/N: I wrote an ensemble Christmas fic last year for shan_3414 so when she requested a post S4 one for skinswishlist I sort of couldn't help myself. This one is definitely more depressing than last year, but I hope that's alright.
I hope everyone has a merry Christmas or just a happy Saturday if they don't celebrate!
Christmas sort of just creeps up on her. Before she knows it, it's December 20th --less than one week to go -- and she's still not bought anything. It results in a day of panic buying everything and anything in sight, and only when she gets home does she realise that she has no one to give The Wanted’s new album to and that James doesn't wear orange because it doesn't complement his skin colouring.
She chucks the bags in the corner of her room, kicking her heels off at the same time, and then collapses back on to her bed. Her eyes settle on the wall opposite, pictures of all the old gang tacked there, the odd family one dotted in between. She smiles at the memories, some pleasant, some less so. Like the night that they all got so blazing drunk that Cook convinced them it'd be a good idea to go skinny dipping at the docks (it wasn't). Or that time when her and Freddie had a really awkward double date with Thomas and Pandora, and Panda had ended up ordering every desert off the menu, "just to check".
She misses them, bad memories and all. Things aren't really the same now. Emily's still off gallivanting with Naomi, lezzing it up on some beach, and they won't be back until next year for the start of uni. And even then, Emily's not going to be in Bristol, so it'll never go back to how it was. Pandora's sorted everything out with Thomas, and Katie thinks it's going really well, but they don't really get a chance to talk very much because of the time difference and the amount of work Pandora's got, and the rest of it is filled with Thomas. Effy's in and out of that Psych ward like they're paying her. She's not got a clue what JJ's doing, he was always bad at stuttering whenever he spoke to her, but after the funeral it only got worse. Cook's been in prison and isn't due -- Katie frowns. December 18th. That can't be right, because he'd have phoned. Still, she picks up her phone and flicks through her old texts until she finds the one she's looking for and it makes her furrow her eyebrows.
He got out two days ago.
***
Living back at his mum's house could be worse, Cook supposes. At least here there's as much food as he'd like. And Paddy's about, which is good for the most part. Bad for him to stay by himself, that's what they'd said to him before he got out. He's meant to reintegrate himself into society or some bollocks. But he's not really in the mood for seeing anyone apart from Pads, cause everyone else looks at him with pity, or disappointment, (like beating that fucker till he couldn't get up wasn't the right thing to do or something equally stupid) but Paddy, nah, he's a cool kid, he just wants to kick a ball around, or batter some notes out on Guitar Hero, and he wants Cook to join in. He can deal with that, playing games, forgetting about things, so he sticks with it. During the day though, Cook's been left in the house alone. His mum will be sent to the nick if Pads gets caught dogging again, so she's pretty uptight about getting him there, before she spends all her day getting pissed down in the basement that she calls a studio.
The house ain't as small as his prison cell -- it's too big if anything -- but he still feels trapped in it. It's only been three days, but there ain't much to do in this house but drink, he doesn't even bother getting dressed in the morning anymore -- that only lasted a day.
He pulls a six-pack out the fridge and settles down on the living room sofa. He knows that he shouldn't, knows what Freddie would say -- "Lunchtime Neighbours hasn't even aired yet Cook, can't you at least wait till Home and Away?" -- and he throws his neck right back, tips the bottle up, gulps the beer down as fast as he can and thinks fuck it, what's the point anymore?
He's got five bottles down him in what must be a record time, even for him. It feels a little more normal, and that's both good and bad. Flicking the telly on gives him the opening bars of the Neighbours theme song, which isn't going to be much of a distraction, so he turns it over to some shopping channel and he's just thinking about the possibility of a lunchtime wank over the old orange faced presenter with saggy tits when the door goes.
A red blur pushes past him and into the house before he can even moan about having to get up to answer the door.
"Katie? What you doing here?"
Katie doesn't even bother turning round to look at him. "We're having a party. You're helping."
The way she says it sounds more like an order rather than a question and Cook doesn't know exactly what he's meant to say, so he says nothing.
She twists her head around, and looks at him like he might be a bit on the slow side. "A party, yeah? You still remember how those go?"
Cook laughs. "Course babe. Me, you an' a bottle of something to keep us company." He stretches his hand out so as to cop a feel of her arse, it's looking well good in that skirt, but she swats it away.
"No. This party's actually going to be fun."
"That could have been fun!" Cook protests.
She looks at him witheringly, before pulling out a notebook. "Now, Neil's sorted out a private room in Dojo’s for us, and he said that he'll pay for all our drinks, so --"
She stops when she sees the look on Cook's face. "What?"
"Your boyfriend's a twatty ponce Katiekins."
Katie's face sets in a hard line, and she smacks him round the head. "He's not a ponce. He's rich. And you only met him once. And anyway, if he wants to pay for everything then why are you even complaining?"
Cook shrugs. "Small problemo with your master plan anyhow."
"What?"
"Can't come, can I?" He answers, indicating his new permanent fashion accessory, the heavy plastic cuff round his ankle. "7pm curfew."
Katie takes one look at it and sighs exasperatedly.
***
She leaves dirty footprints behind her in the virgin snow. It's a metaphor for so many things, Effy muses. None more so than her and Freddie, both then and now. Freddie was no virgin, true, and no innocent either, not in the strictest sense of the word.
But love, that was another matter entirely.
She doesn't want to take another step, to disrupt the scene any further, this pretty as a picture scene of headstones, most tilted at angles bar one, one new one which sparkles with the reflected sunlight, but if she wants to be close to him then she's got to ruin it, and again, wasn't that just a reflection of them in another age.
She doesn't say anything when she comes here. There's nothing to say. What good is sorry now? Her dad tries it, her mum says it daily, sorry -- sorrysorrysorry -- everyone at the funeral, well they were sorry too. Everyone is sorrysorrysorry. It makes her feel hollow. So she doesn't say it to him, because Freddie doesn't need to feel that now.
She drags her finger across the top of his gravestone, marking a line in the snow. The black marble underneath contrasts sharply. The bad. The good. Infiltrating, contaminating, working from the inside out, the outside in, destroying everything. She drags her hand across the full length of the stone, clearing it of snow completely, leaving it black. Her fingers make their way to the indentations marked there, skate past the “In Loving Memory” inscription, and over to his name, tracing the F. As she does, she remembers so vividly the small dimple he had, the small rise and fall, faint. A perfect imperfection.
Sometimes he talks to her. Rarely is it more than Effy, or I really fucking love you. Rarer still he smiles, she can feel it in the air and it just... she knows, when it happens.
She doesn't tell her therapist. They'll say it's bad, that it should go away, that she shouldn't have it. But she doesn't want them to take it away, and she doesn't want to forget, because it happened and she needs to remember it in case they try to take him away as well. They say they want to take her grief away. But she needs that as well, and if she can't have Freddie -- she didn't deserve Freddie -- then she has to keep it close.
She sinks to her knees in front of him, ignores the cold, ignores the wet, rests her head against his grave, closes her eyes and tries to think of anything other than sorrysorrysorry.
---
"Effy." It's faint, but she hears it, and smiles.
It's Freddie, he's talking to her again. "Eff. Open your eyes for me."
She can't. She doesn't want to anyway, not when she can hear him. And feel him. There's warm arms surrounding her, masculine arms, the smell isn’t quite right, something about it is off, but it still feels safe, so she doesn't worry about trying to open her eyes. Instead, she clings on to him tighter.
***
They’re just at the end of her street when Emily reaches up and tugs the Santa hat perched on top of Naomi’s head straight.
“It’s fine Ems, leave it,” Naomi whinges, swatting her hand away. “I don’t even want to wear anyway.”
Emily laughs at her petulance. “But it looks sexy. And I can’t be the only one to wear one, it’ll look stupid.”
“Already looks stupid,” Naomi huffs. “Katie better fucking appreciate this. I can’t believe we’ve come back just to surprise her for Christmas.”
Emily sighs. “It’s Christmas. Me and Katie, we always do Christmas together, it’s just… how it’s meant to be.”
It’s Naomi’s turn to sigh. “It’s a good job I love you, you know,” she says eventually, leaning down to kiss Emily on the cheek.
She laughs in response. “Come on then, the sooner we get there, the sooner I can think of some way to reward you for your infinite patience.”
---
She’s a little nervous before she rings the bell, and Naomi must notice it, because she gets a squeeze to the hand and it gives her the little bit of reassurance that she needs to get on with it.
It’s Katie who answers the door, not really paying that much attention until she eventually notices who it is, and then, suddenly, she’s rushing towards her with arms open wide. “Emily!”
Emily smiles into Katie’s shoulder. She’s missed this. She’s missed home.
Katie draws back first. “Why’d you ring the doorbell, stupid cow, you’ve got a key.”
Emily laughs. “Glad to see nothing’s changed here. Come on then, I’m in desperate need of a proper cup of tea.”
---
Katie’s got a new boyfriend. He sounds like a wanker, but she’s happy, so Emily says she’s happy for her.
“He was going to throw us a Christmas party as well. But Cook couldn’t come because of his tag, and Effy’s still fucked up. I didn’t know you were both coming back. So I told him to cancel it. We’ll reschedule, he’ll still pay and everything, I’ll make sure, and it won’t be the same, but at least it’s something. The end of January is going to suit us all best I think, but I’ll need to check with Effy that it would work with her pill cycle and that she’s not going to be fucking miserable, because I will not have her ruining my party with all her emo shit.”
Emily’s gut sinks. She should have mentioned something earlier, shouldn’t have let Katie just assume. Naomi’s looking over at her with a concerned expression as well, but Emily knows this will be better coming from her rather than Naomi, so she speaks up. “Katie? Um, about, that. We’re…well we’ll be flying out two days after New Years.”
Katie looks at her, confused. “But you just came back.”
“Well, yeah, Katie, but just for Christmas. We’re not staying.”
Katie puts her mug down on the table extremely carefully and then looks back towards Emily. She doesn’t need to say anything, the disappointment is visible.
“Katie…” Emily says, but it’s ignored and Katie marches up towards her room, leaving her and Naomi alone.
Naomi grimaces. “That went well.”
***
Later, once she’s got her and Emily’s bags back to her mums, and Emily’s fully installed with the camera, setting it up to the computer so as to show her mum and Kieran every single one of the five million pictures they took of India, Naomi makes a weak excuse about going to catch up with Cook. Neither Emily nor her mum pay her the blindest bit of attention, so she doesn’t hang around to let them question her further.
This time it’s James that answers the door, with a “Whoa, Naomi, you look hot with a tan! Wait right there, I’ve got to show you the cut on my new number.” She feigns interest -- and a little bit of her is interested, but like, in the same way that a car crash is interesting -- and while he scampers away to get her dress, she makes her way to Katie’s room with a shake of the head.
Katie huffs when she sees who it is. “What do you want?”
“Seriously?”
Katie’s arms fold across her chest. “What are you even doing here, Naomi?”
Naomi sighs, clearly they’re going to have to do this Katie’s way. “She wanted to come back and do Christmas properly, with you. Which is a problem, if you’re not going to speak to her.”
She doesn’t say anything, making Naomi sigh again and decide on a change of tact. “She missed you Katie. And apparently no matter how much leopard print I wear, I don't make a suitable replacement.”
Katie laughs despite herself. “You’re such a cow.”
Naomi grins. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Is it sorted now? You’ll call her?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call her.”
“Cool. So, this party then. It’s a goer now?”
“No. Neil’s already cancelled the room, and he can’t get it back, not now. And Cook couldn’t come cause of his tag, but actually, that might be a good thing.”
“So we need a venue?” Naomi thinks for a bit. “Leave it with me, I think I’ve got an idea.”
---
Cook gives her a bear hug when he sees her, lifts her off her feet and yells "Naomikins!" in her ear, spinning them both around until she feels like she's going to puke. When he eventually puts her down, he's still grinning excitedly, like a little boy on Christmas day.
"What the hell are you doing here Blondie? What happened to the beach? How was the holiday? What did you get me?" He stops abruptly. "Wait, where's Em? You guys haven't had a fight or nothing?"
Naomi's quite offended by the insinuation that she couldn't manage to keep Emily happy for four months at a time without them having to have a massive fight. "Oh, nice. Just assume I've fucked up then? Can't I come round to visit my favourite jail bird?"
"Didn't say nothing about you being the one to fuck up love, just saying that there's your hip, right? Now normally there's this small thing with red hair attached to it. Except today, nada."
Naomi rolls her eyes. "We came back for Christmas. She's at my mum's. I made a bid for freedom."
He laughs, slinging an arm round her shoulders. "Fair enough then. Now, seriously, what did you bring me back?"
---
After a small catch up -- she learns that jail was alright the second time around once he'd learnt to keep his head down -- and a beer -- which seems to be the only liquid Cook's drinking these days -- she brings up the tag.
He shrugs. "It's ok. Fuckers put it on too tight though. And they're proper strict on it now, after last time with Pads and that. But it's better than being in there full time."
"I saw Katie," Naomi starts hesitantly. "She said about the party, and that you couldn't go."
He doesn't say anything, instead takes another swig from his can.
"It's just, Katie's going to do my head in if she doesn't get this party, and I need to get my mum away from Emily before she does something ridiculous like get the baby photos out. So, I was thinking, what if we had the party here? I mean, there's no rules against that is there?"
Cook tilts his head to the side, and thinks for a few seconds. "I always knew there was a reason I liked you Blondie. You're clever."
***
Pandora has never been so excited in all of her life. Apart from every Christmas Eve, of course, but this is like the best Christmas present anyway, cause she's back from Harvard, and she's going to see Effy, and they're going to see each other, and then Effy's going to come to the party that Katie's having at Cook's house, and it's going to be awesome -- that’s what America would say, Pandora’s been working on the lingo. She skips up their path, doing a bit of hopscotch, smiling to herself when she manages to get all the way without touching any cracks in the paving, and rings the bell.
"Tony! Wizzer, you're back! Bet Effy's flipping delighted to see you. Is she about? Got to catch up and gossip about boys and things."
Tony doesn't look as happy to see her as she is to see him, but maybe she's being "over-keen" like her mum always says, so she takes a deep breath to calm down.
"Actually Pandora, Effy's not really --"
"I'm fine," Effy interrupts coming down the stairs behind Tony's back.
"Effy!" Pandora shouts, and pushes her way past Tony and throws herself at Effy. "Blooming heck Eff, you ain't half got more bony. Wish I could, but they always try and give you more food in America, even when you think you're going to burst, except not really cause that'd be gross, and somehow if you think hard enough then you can find some room anyway and keep on going. Mum says I'm going to blow up like a balloon."
Effy smiles fondly, and Pandora feels happier from the outside in. "We're having a party tomorrow night. And I'm here to invite you. It's Katie's party, but it's at Cook's house, because he's not allowed to leave or he'll have to go back to the chokey. There's going to be a wacker load of food there. Katie's buying it right now with JJ. You're coming, right?"
"No," Tony says, which is a little rude given that Pandora said she was here to invite Effy, not Effy and Tony, but then, there's no reason why he couldn't come she supposes. Apart from that he said no.
Effy's looking at him, sort of like how Pandora looks at her mum sometimes, when she knows she's going to do something that her mum'll get mad at. "I'm going."
Tony shakes his head. "Effy. You know that's a bad idea, you know that --"
"You're not dad, Tony."
He takes a long breath and sighs. "Fine. But I'm coming with you. And no drugs."
"Fine."
"And no alcohol either."
Effy shrugs. "Whatever."
"Great!" Pandora exclaims. "I'll just need to phone Katie."
***
"And two of those JJ," she commands, pointing at a high shelf out of her reach.
He frowns. "I don't... Katie, what are they?"
"They're little trinkets for everyone’s glasses, to personalise them and make them festive, so that no one will get their drinks mixed up."
"Right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, which I doubt, but if we buy two packets, won't there be a duplication and therefore the confusion that the product is meant to eliminate, remains."
Katie looks at him in this way, and immediately he remembers what his mum had taught him years ago: that a woman is always right, even when she's wrong, and especially when the core subject is shopping. "We need two, so stop with the science crap and put them in the trolley will you?"
"Yes, of course, sorry, my mistake."
"How much have we spent so far?"
JJ looks at the burgeoning trolley before him. "Quite a lot I think."
"Well can't you work out? It's maths yeah, that's your thing -- Oh, wait, that's my phone."
JJ sets to work calculating what they've picked up so far. According to Katie, Cook's house is currently a Christmas-free zone, so they've had to buy everything. There's the Christmas tree, twelve packets of fairy lights, twenty metres of tinsel, five "Merry Christmas" banners, a nodding Santa decoration, a singing doorbell, three boxes of Christmas crackers, a twig of mistletoe, seven different types of party platters, ten share size bags of crisps, dips, forty-eight mince pies, a pyramid of Ferrero Rocher (apparently they’re well classy, and a must for all party occasions) and various other food items that JJ's never heard of. Then there's the alcohol. Twelve bottles of premium brand vodka (and at this point JJ had mentioned a small concern about the price, which was dismissed with a flippant, don’t worry about it, Neil's paying with his plastic fantastic), four bottles of cider, three bottles of mulled wine, another bottle of rose, two crates of beer, and another of lager (what's the difference, she'd asked, and once he'd explained that lager was actually a type of beer, she shrugged and dumped it in the trolley anyway).
Once she's finished her phone call, he announces he has a very rough estimate of £427.
"Change of plan," she replies. "Effy's not allowed to be near any alcohol." She marches off, and when she realises that he's not following, she turns round. "Keep up then, we've got to put all that shit back and buy some fucking Coke now."
***
Katie spends the whole day round at his putting up decorations and stuff like that to make it more festive apparently. It’s a pain in the arse really, cause she expects him to wear clothes while he’s in her presence as if she’s the fucking Queen or something. JJ’s round as well, which is cool, but he’s being the lapdog and doing what he’s told by Katie. But before Katie gives him something boring to do Cook decides to assign himself the job of getting rid of as many beers as he can before Effy gets there. The answer is quite a lot, so when the new singing doorbell goes (the one that JJ nearly electrocuted himself on when he was wiring it in) he’s still got a beer in his hand when he goes to get it.
Cook opens the door with a “Let’s go fucking MENTAL!”
Tony takes a look at Effy standing next to him, and then back to Cook. “I don’t think so,” he says, plucking the beer can out of his hand and throwing over his shoulder. “Seriously,” he says to Effy as they walk in. “Him? I thought I’d taught you about standards Eff.”
Cook frowns. He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be taking shit off this guy when they’re in his house for a party, but then again, he knows Tony’s story. He took on a bus and came out on top, so fair play, the guy’s allowed one strike, but anything after that Cook reckons is fair game.
The lesbians turn up next, and Pandora and Thomas not far behind them and Cook reckons that’s it, everyone’s there, time to get this party started. So when the door goes again, he’s a bit confused. He does a quick head count and tries to work out who’s missing, but pulls a blank.
Turns out to be Katie’s flash arse boyfriend, and he’s every little bit as much of an arrogant prick as Cook remembers. His jacket gets tossed towards Cook, and an instruction to hang it up somewhere proper, because apparently Neil doesn’t like creases. “Least you can do, Jamesy boy, seeing as I’m paying for all this palaver, eh? Good chap. Oh, and my car’s parked round the side, didn’t want it to catch anything nasty from some of the rust buckets out front! I’m only joking about that of course. Though I did park my car a safe distance away, just on the off chance. You don’t want to be liable for any scratches of course.”
Cook grimaces a reply, and tries to work out if the three months he’d have to spend on the inside for breaking early release conditions would be worth it if he got to knock that smug git’s face in.
***
It’s not exactly the most rock and roll party she’s ever been to. In fact, it might be the least. But it’s ok.
Katie’s running around to check every tiny little detail is just right, and in between times keeps asking people if they’ve seen Neil, who has apparently managed to get lost.
Tony’s taken it upon himself to be big brother extraordinaire for one night only, and as such is keeping a tight control over any suspicious looking activity. For now though he seems satisfied enough to be playing Guitar Hero, and is currently getting his ass handed to him by Cook’s little brother.
Emily and JJ are engaged in what looks like a deep and meaningful discussion, and Effy notices Naomi sitting just a little bit further back, watching the two of them intently.
Effy creeps up behind her. “Jealous?” she whispers by her ear.
Naomi starts. “Jesus Eff.”
“Well?”
Naomi shakes her head. “No. Not jealous, not anymore.”
Effy raises an eyebrow.
“It all worked out, didn’t it? And I’m not an immature twat anymore, which I’ve found helps.”
It makes her smile, Naomi being honest. Effy sits down beside her, curls her legs up underneath her body.
“Want a top up?” Naomi asks, nodding at the empty cup in her hand.
Effy shrugs. “It’s only Coke.”
Naomi grins. “Soon sort that out then, won’t we?” Glancing sideways she quickly checks Tony is well and truly occupied before reaching into her oversized bag and slipping out a bottle of vodka. “Had it since duty free,” she says by way of explanation. “And you look like you need it.”
Effy smiles as the sharp taste hits the back of her throat. She won’t get away with a lot while Tony’s here (he might not be her dad, but in this instance, that means she’ll actually listen to him), but even the smallish splash that Naomi poured is helping take the edge off.
***
She’s been cradling her drink for quite some time before heading across to him, and when she eventually gets there, she shifts on her feet and thrums her fingers against her glass before she comes out with, "Hi, Thomas."
He smiles, trying to put her at ease a little; to make her less worried looking. "Hello Naomi."
"Um, I just... How's Harvard?"
Thomas nods. "It is good, hard work but rewarding. The equipment is excellent, and the weather, well, it is better too. And you? Travelling?"
He watches Naomi's face visibly relax and a smile appears, a genuine one. "It's been great. We're going to Mexico after New Year, maybe Brazil as well if we can get the money." Her smile fades, and she finishes the rest of her drink in one attempt. She looks around the room, her gaze settling on her feet. "Look, Thomas, I just... I never said thank you. You know, for... Well, you could have said something and you didn't. So, thanks."
She looks up then, and he understands why she was nervous before. This is not the Naomi that he knows, this is the Naomi from the bar, begging him to keep quiet about the drugs, the Naomi from Freddie's shed, apologising to Emily, professing love, the Naomi who is vulnerable. This is a tortured soul, and she is looking to him for absolution.
"It is in the past Naomi. We both have other things now.” He nods towards the others, where Pandora and Emily are dancing in the most ridiculous fashion. “We should look forward, not back." Pandora has seen him looking over, and is now waving manically for them to join in. He holds up a finger, indicating he will be one minute. "When you are travelling, if you ever wanted to, then Harvard is not so far. You and Emily would always be welcome."
She looks surprised by his offer.
"You do not need to decide just now. Talk with Emily."
"Yeah, I will. Thanks."
He shrugs. "Now," he says nodding his head towards Emily, who is now stretching her hand out towards them, and Pandora who is still waving manically. "I think we are both wanted."
***
Cook’s heading for an empty room -- he’s fed up of this no drinking malarkey and it’s just not doing it for him tonight -- when he hears them, little grunts, a moan, and suddenly this party’s picking up.
He inches the door open and then clears his throat. “Oi oi! What’s going on in ’ere then?”
It’s a bare arse that greets him, a guy pinning some woman up on the desk, some woman who --
“Mum?! Oh naw, nah man, what the fuck are you doing?” And that guy, Cook looks at him again and… that guy’s Katie’s boyfriend, that proper fucking tosser.
“Didn’t they teach you sex ed at that place you went?” she drawls, as if it’s nothing, that she’s sat there with all her bits out, a kid half her age between her thighs.
He’s proper pissed off now, really raging, almost red mist style, but he catches himself just in time, because he can’t. He’s got too much to lose, and he can’t go back on the inside, which he would, if he were to lamp this guy like he wants to. He punches the wall instead, hard as he can, and makes his knuckles bleed.
“Piss off now Jimmy, mummy’s busy, ok?”
It makes him sick, that does, he just wants her to fuck right off, just shut her stupid mouth. He storms away, finds a room down the hall where he’s sure Katie left an emergency crate of beer.
---
When the door opens, about a half hour later, he’s surprised. “Didn’t think you'd be coming.”
Karen shrugs. “I didn't think I was going to, to be honest. I don't feel up for much really, but dad said I should, you know, get things back to normal.” He snorts at that and she nods. “I know, but I’ve got to try.”
He shakes his head, there's no words to add, and even of there was, he sure as hell don't have them. "Not much of a party this," is what he comes up with, and she shrugs again.
"It's ok. I'm not really in the mood anyway."
Cook shakes his head and passes her over a bottle from his collection. "Me either. Just walked in on my mum and Katie's poncy boyfriend getting busy. 'S not really a family moment to share."
"Jesus, your mum?"
"Yeah." He shrugs. "She's got previous. Done Freddie back in the day."
"No way. That's disgusting"
"Nah, serious. She blew him."
"Ew, stop! That's my brother."
Cook grins. "Yeah, and that's my mum. He had a bit of cheek, didn't he? Going off on one when he found out about me and you I mean."
"Oh my God, he knew about that?"
"JJ spilled."
Karen rolls her eyes and brings her hand up to cover her face.
"I miss him. Stupid bastard. He should be here."
Karen peels her hand away and looks up at him. "You did your best Cook," she offers.
He looks away. "Wasn't good enough though, was it?"
"It was. He'd have been proud. You never gave up on him, and that's... that's all he ever wanted from you."
The tears prick at his eyes and he rubs them fiercely. "I loved him, I really fucking loved him, you know? And now he's, he's..." He swallows the words back down when he sees Karen’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. He reaches across and brushes one away with his thumb. "Sorry."
"No," she says, grabbing hold of his wrist. "I know. It's ok."
She's got big eyes, Cook notices. Like his. And he doesn't want to see them so sad anymore.
It's the first time that he's ever hesitated when about to kiss anyone, normally it's do now think later, normally rejection doesn't matter. This time though, everything's at stake.
Her lips taste salty from the tears, and he makes it his mission to get rid of that, kissing her softly until he can't taste the tears anymore, and her mouth parts against his, hot, wet and inviting. She's clinging to him, her nails digging into his wrist and her other hand in his hair, pulling him ever closer. There's an air of desperation about this that wasn't here the only other time that they have done this, and it's a sobering realisation, how much things have changed.
"Karen," he mumbles into her mouth. "Karen, stop," he says again when she doesn't let up. She backs off then, and refuses to make eye contact with him. "I don't wanna fuck up. Things are too fucked up already, and I don't want to fuck up anymore." He licks at his now dry lips, and takes her hand from where it hangs now by her side. "We could do it proper. I want to do it proper. Just... let's... not like this, yeah?"
She brings her eyes to his slowly before she nods. "You're not going to..." she says in a small voice, unable to finish the question, but Cook could guess what was coming. He's given her enough reason to suspect it of him.
"I'm not going to fuck up anymore, ok?" he answers firmly.
Karen nods again, her eyes still watery.
"Come 'ere," he says, pulling her back towards him with an arm around her waist, wraps the other over her shoulder, hugs her tightly and lets his fingers tangle in her hair.
"I didn’t used to believe Freddie when he said you were good deep down," she mumbles into his neck.
Cook lets go of a laugh. "Smart boy, our Freds."
***
Tony sees Katie standing alone on the other side of the room. She looks mad at something -- raging in fact -- but there's something else as well. Unsure maybe, and he doesn't even know her at all, but he can't help his curiosity from leading him over and asking if she's all right.
"Yes," she answers with bite. "Why wouldn't I be? It's Christmas."
Tony knows he's good at handling people generally, but he's unable to find a good way of explaining to an upset woman that the reason he asked if she was ok is because she didn't look ok. He shrugs in absence of an explanation. "Find your boyfriend then?"
"Yeah I found him," she says bitterly. "Fucking someone else."
"Oh," Tony says, and realises that a lot hinges on his next comment. "He was a bit of a prick, wasn’t he?"
"Yeah," Katie agrees. "But he was rich."
Tony laughs. "You wanna get revenge?"
Katie raises her eyebrows. "Always."
"Good," he grins. "Give me a minute, I've got a plan."
---
He's back, true to his word, in a minute's time, with a glint in his eye and a swagger in his step. "Fancy a spin?" he asks, dangling a car key in front of her face.
She grins in response.
---
"I'm not really into cars," she tells him. "But a BMW, that's quite a good one isn't it?"
He laughs. "Not for much longer it won't be," he says and opens the passenger door for her.
---
He floors it, skids into and around corners, burns as much rubber as he can -- which is admittedly not a lot because there's still snow on the ground -- but it's good fun. This Neil guy may be a prick, and crap with girls, but he has a fucking top car.
Katie is screaming when he slides to a stop, but then laughs when she realises he had it all under control. He can still feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, a good buzz, a legal -- except not quite -- high.
"You want a go?"
---
He'd teach her about gears and clutches and stuff like that, except there'd be no fun left if she did it properly, so he doesn't. Instead he instructs her to keep her foot down on the clutch, he shifts the car to first gear, and then tells her to lift the clutch and floor the accelerator at the same time.
"It's that easy?" she asks, her knuckles white as she grips the wheel.
"Yeah, sure. Easy," he says convincingly.
She doesn't stall it, which is good, but as soon as they're moving, she screams at him for more instructions on what she should do next, and he's laughing, cause they're doing maybe ten miles an hour at most, crawling down the road, but it turns out that Katie doesn't appreciate that, and takes her hand off the wheel to hit him, resulting in the car sliding off the road and coming to rest with a bump against a tree.
"Oh my God," she says, covering her face with her hands. "I’ve scratched it. There’s a scratch. What are we going to do?"
Tony shrugs. "Collateral damage. Good first lesson I'd say."
She laughs breathlessly. "I can't believe I just did that. Fuck. It felt good though. Wanker deserved it. Thanks," she says, turning to him.
"Yeah, no problem," he replies. "You know Katie, for a cool girl you've shit taste in men."
She smiles. "I'm working on it," she says, and leans over to kiss him.
***
It’s late by now, and people have paired off, settled down on couches against each other, on the verge of sleep.
But Effy’s still wide awake. It’s Christmas Eve, and he should be here. He should be here rolling a joint for them all to pass around. He should be here to let her head fall against his shoulder, to keep her warm. To kiss her under the mistletoe and be involved in all the other stupid festive traditions that Effy doesn’t like, or believe in anyway. But he should be there to do them.
He’s not though, and he’s never going to be back. And it’s something that she’s going to have to get used to. To not think about what should be, and instead concentrate on what is, even when the lines are blurred.
She leaves everyone sleeping and travels through the house, ends up by the back door, and steps out into the cold. She perches on the step, wraps her arms around her legs and clutches them close to her body for warmth.
It’s a clear night, and the stars are out, the moonlight bright. She rests her chin on her knees and wonders if he can see the stars from where he is.
She hopes so.