Fic: Sometimes It's Better (3)
Title: Sometimes It's Better (Not to stick bits of each other in each other) - 3
Characters: Cook/Katie, Naomi/Emily
Rating: M (for language)
Words: 1050
Summary: Cook and Naomi talk women.
Disclaimer: Not my characters
A/N: This is unbeta'd so any mistakes are all mine. Title from Hot Club de Paris 'Sometimesitsbetternottostickbitsofeachotherineachotherforeachother'
Follows from this and then this, but there's not a huge amount of plot!
It’s late by the time they’re getting redressed. They’ve not actually said anything about this being on the regular, but the way she was scratching the fuck out his back, Cook reckons it’s a goer. He’s fucked a lot of girls, right, and he knows a quality shag when he’s had one. Katie did this thing with the condom and her teeth and fuck if it didn’t blow his brains out. There’s no way he’s giving up on getting some of that again.
Just as they leave his room, Emily and Naomi come out of theirs. Emily takes one look between them, and her eyes bug right out of her skull. Naomi gives him some weird look and shakes her head at him, as if he’s done something wrong by nailing a fucking fit bird. She’s just jealous. By the time he’s stopped laughing to himself at the very idea of Naomi and Katie even getting on, let alone getting it on, Emily’s started mouthing off at Katie, and Katie’s giving back as good as she’s getting.
He tries to follow it, but it doesn’t make much sense. Cook’s not read every word in the dictionary - that’s what Gay-J’s for - but that is definitely not English they’re shouting at each other. Naomi tries to calm Emily down by putting a hand on her shoulder, but Emily shrugs it off and keeps going at Katie.
He’s still not sure what’s actually going on, but it’s quite hot, this catfight, and Cook’s always liked a bit of attitude in the sack. He also likes lesbians. And twins - so long as they’re both female, mind. It occurs to him that what this is, right, is three fantasies rolled into one, and it is fucking mint. This has potential for foursome and that’s a fantasy he’s not even had until right now. He’s just about to tell them about it, when Katie stomps her way down the stairs, with Emily chasing after her, and the door slams closed behind them.
Naomi looks completely bewildered, kind of how Cook feels a little. Fuck it though - he’s not worried. Katie will be back. Can’t go long without some Cookie loving. “Women, eh?” He says to Naomi.
She only glares back at him, and like, what’s her problem? Not his fault her bird is a mental.
“Ah, come on Naomie, lighten up. Pub? We’ve got to celebrate,” he grins.
“Celebrate?”
“Yup. I just got my hands around the finest rack in Bristol, didn’t I?”
He dodges the hand that she throws in his direction; the amount of practice he’s been getting, it’s no wonder he’s getting good at it.
---
Naomi won’t stop playing with her phone, turning it over in her hands, and it’s stupid, cause it’s not gonna ring, and even Cook knows that. He downs the rest of his pint, and indicates towards hers. “Hurry up then, you pussy, your round innit?”
She rolls her eyes as she reaches into her pocket, slipping a fiver across the table. He sighs exaggeratedly, before getting up, and convincing Christina to sling a couple of shots on top of their pints. Naomi’s finished her dregs off and put her phone away by the time he’s back, but she still looks down.
“You better not say something soppy Campbell, or…” But he trails off when he realises that he doesn’t know what he’d do, because normally with Freddie or JJ, he’d just give them a punch if they got all sentimental and shit (which meant he spent a lot of his time hitting Freddie back when they were still talking). But you can’t hit a girl yeah, it’s just not on. Still, he’s coming to the sad conclusion that Naomi isn’t going to change her mind about shagging him, and he’s not sure why, but he still wants to hang out with her, which must mean that they’re mates, at least a bit. So what the fuck is he meant to do with a girl he’s not having sex with and a mate he can’t punch?
Naomi looks at him quizzically, before shaking her head. “So, Katie then?”
Cook tries not to look too pleased with himself, but he is pretty chuffed with his latest conquest. It might have taken a year, but she came round in the end. Anyway, he’s a gentleman, and there are codes and things, so he won’t be spilling any of what went on. He’s quite attached to his balls as it goes, and he’s pretty sure Katie would rip them off if she found out he’d been opening his gob. Still, they might be able to come to some form of arrangement. “Emily?” He replies. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
Naomi has a long drink of her pint and then she smiles into it, all the while shaking her head. “Not happening Cook.”
He gives her a nudge. “Come on, we can do a show and tell?”
Naomi levels him with a stare, one that cuts through all of the bollocks he was about to say, and it makes him think for a minute.
“She’s feisty, you know. She’s got attitude, don’t she,” he says, and surprises himself with the realisation that he actually fucking means it. “And her tits mate. Fuck me, they’re amazing. Like, blow your load sort of amazing.”
Naomi splutters on her drink. “Jesus, Cook, is all you think about bloody tits? You’re worse than fucking Emily, I swear.”
“Yeah, but you gotta appreciate quality though, don’t you?”
“Cook, I refuse to sit here and objectify women’s bodies with you. Do you know what a sexist pig you are? Honestly, it's disgusting.”
“Fuck off. You telling me that if Emily walked in here topless your jaw wouldn’t be on the fucking floor?”
Naomi opens her mouth, closes it again, and then looks over to the door and blushes.
“Right then. Truth, innit? It’s all about the breasticles,” he finishes with a toothy smile, taking another large gulp of his pint.
Naomi’s recovered from being lost for words just in time to tip the bottom of the glass so his beer ends up all over his top and then she sits back in her chair looking at him smugly.
Fucking women. They’re all fucking mental.
Part 4
Characters: Cook/Katie, Naomi/Emily
Rating: M (for language)
Words: 1050
Summary: Cook and Naomi talk women.
Disclaimer: Not my characters
A/N: This is unbeta'd so any mistakes are all mine. Title from Hot Club de Paris 'Sometimesitsbetternottostickbitsofeachotherineachotherforeachother'
Follows from this and then this, but there's not a huge amount of plot!
It’s late by the time they’re getting redressed. They’ve not actually said anything about this being on the regular, but the way she was scratching the fuck out his back, Cook reckons it’s a goer. He’s fucked a lot of girls, right, and he knows a quality shag when he’s had one. Katie did this thing with the condom and her teeth and fuck if it didn’t blow his brains out. There’s no way he’s giving up on getting some of that again.
Just as they leave his room, Emily and Naomi come out of theirs. Emily takes one look between them, and her eyes bug right out of her skull. Naomi gives him some weird look and shakes her head at him, as if he’s done something wrong by nailing a fucking fit bird. She’s just jealous. By the time he’s stopped laughing to himself at the very idea of Naomi and Katie even getting on, let alone getting it on, Emily’s started mouthing off at Katie, and Katie’s giving back as good as she’s getting.
He tries to follow it, but it doesn’t make much sense. Cook’s not read every word in the dictionary - that’s what Gay-J’s for - but that is definitely not English they’re shouting at each other. Naomi tries to calm Emily down by putting a hand on her shoulder, but Emily shrugs it off and keeps going at Katie.
He’s still not sure what’s actually going on, but it’s quite hot, this catfight, and Cook’s always liked a bit of attitude in the sack. He also likes lesbians. And twins - so long as they’re both female, mind. It occurs to him that what this is, right, is three fantasies rolled into one, and it is fucking mint. This has potential for foursome and that’s a fantasy he’s not even had until right now. He’s just about to tell them about it, when Katie stomps her way down the stairs, with Emily chasing after her, and the door slams closed behind them.
Naomi looks completely bewildered, kind of how Cook feels a little. Fuck it though - he’s not worried. Katie will be back. Can’t go long without some Cookie loving. “Women, eh?” He says to Naomi.
She only glares back at him, and like, what’s her problem? Not his fault her bird is a mental.
“Ah, come on Naomie, lighten up. Pub? We’ve got to celebrate,” he grins.
“Celebrate?”
“Yup. I just got my hands around the finest rack in Bristol, didn’t I?”
He dodges the hand that she throws in his direction; the amount of practice he’s been getting, it’s no wonder he’s getting good at it.
---
Naomi won’t stop playing with her phone, turning it over in her hands, and it’s stupid, cause it’s not gonna ring, and even Cook knows that. He downs the rest of his pint, and indicates towards hers. “Hurry up then, you pussy, your round innit?”
She rolls her eyes as she reaches into her pocket, slipping a fiver across the table. He sighs exaggeratedly, before getting up, and convincing Christina to sling a couple of shots on top of their pints. Naomi’s finished her dregs off and put her phone away by the time he’s back, but she still looks down.
“You better not say something soppy Campbell, or…” But he trails off when he realises that he doesn’t know what he’d do, because normally with Freddie or JJ, he’d just give them a punch if they got all sentimental and shit (which meant he spent a lot of his time hitting Freddie back when they were still talking). But you can’t hit a girl yeah, it’s just not on. Still, he’s coming to the sad conclusion that Naomi isn’t going to change her mind about shagging him, and he’s not sure why, but he still wants to hang out with her, which must mean that they’re mates, at least a bit. So what the fuck is he meant to do with a girl he’s not having sex with and a mate he can’t punch?
Naomi looks at him quizzically, before shaking her head. “So, Katie then?”
Cook tries not to look too pleased with himself, but he is pretty chuffed with his latest conquest. It might have taken a year, but she came round in the end. Anyway, he’s a gentleman, and there are codes and things, so he won’t be spilling any of what went on. He’s quite attached to his balls as it goes, and he’s pretty sure Katie would rip them off if she found out he’d been opening his gob. Still, they might be able to come to some form of arrangement. “Emily?” He replies. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
Naomi has a long drink of her pint and then she smiles into it, all the while shaking her head. “Not happening Cook.”
He gives her a nudge. “Come on, we can do a show and tell?”
Naomi levels him with a stare, one that cuts through all of the bollocks he was about to say, and it makes him think for a minute.
“She’s feisty, you know. She’s got attitude, don’t she,” he says, and surprises himself with the realisation that he actually fucking means it. “And her tits mate. Fuck me, they’re amazing. Like, blow your load sort of amazing.”
Naomi splutters on her drink. “Jesus, Cook, is all you think about bloody tits? You’re worse than fucking Emily, I swear.”
“Yeah, but you gotta appreciate quality though, don’t you?”
“Cook, I refuse to sit here and objectify women’s bodies with you. Do you know what a sexist pig you are? Honestly, it's disgusting.”
“Fuck off. You telling me that if Emily walked in here topless your jaw wouldn’t be on the fucking floor?”
Naomi opens her mouth, closes it again, and then looks over to the door and blushes.
“Right then. Truth, innit? It’s all about the breasticles,” he finishes with a toothy smile, taking another large gulp of his pint.
Naomi’s recovered from being lost for words just in time to tip the bottom of the glass so his beer ends up all over his top and then she sits back in her chair looking at him smugly.
Fucking women. They’re all fucking mental.
Part 4