Fic: Wardrobes and photographs - Katie/Naomi
Title: Wardrobes and photographs
Pairing: Katie/Naomi
Rating: R
Word count: 5400
Summary: AU - Katie makes a really, really bad decision on their anniversary...
A/N: Okay, so Jess and I were bored at work last week and I wrote something, then sent it to her, she carried it on and so on and so forth. So there we go!
It's not set in any known verse or anything like that. And Emily is bi for some reason! IDK why. But she's not in it that much so it's not too important :)
Throwing open the doors of the wardrobe, Katie takes stock of the situation in front of her.
It's worse than she'd imagined and, even though she'd taken a deep breath before she'd dared to look, she's still not totally prepared for the horribly bright and almost fluorescent floral print that's draped across every other hanger.
(Every time she opens the doors she wishes that it’s all been a horrible nightmare and Naomi’s side of the wardrobe will be full of completely normal clothes. Or at least clothes that don’t look like vomit.)
"Christ," Katie mutters and checks the time on her phone again. It's not long until they have to go out, and she'll be fucked if she's letting Naomi choose her own clothes for this anniversary after what she wore on her birthday, so she swallows down a gulp of disgust and starts rifling through.
****
Once she starts, Katie can't stop. Her hands move of their own accord; fingertips trailing over endless amounts of the offensive material which stares back at her.
And it's all there, right in her face, bright and dark, patterns and prints - floral - taunting her with the way it hangs in place as if it actually belongs.
They fucking don't though, Katie thinks, especially not when they’re sharing a space with her designer skirts and tops, her fabulous heels and banging jewellery.
Her hands reach then, clenching tightly around the metal hooks of the hangers, and pull an array of ruffled tops and skirts with rips forcefully out of their home, throwing them down onto the floor.
Contagious, Katie thinks, and feels pleased that she's doing the clothing world a favour.
****
It's only because she cares, she tells herself as she holds up some sort of shirt jacket between her thumb and forefinger, extending her arm so the offending item is as far from her as possible.
And, honestly, Naomi is incredibly beautiful - Katie can remember the first time she'd seen her without anything on (or almost without anything on, anyway) and it had been like waking from a fuzzy dream where all the colours blended into one until there was clarity. And it was Naomi, all pale in places and rosy in others, and warm and welcoming.
But then as soon as they'd realised that giving into this thing between them on a college nature trail, led by that hairy Irish bloke who was drinking from a hip flask, was a little bit more public than they should have been they had quickly put on all of the clothes they'd shed and shuffled off to join the rest of their group, Katie’s sister standing impatiently and glaring at her from behind her sandwich.
"Your hair's all fucked up, you silly cow," Emily had whispered harshly into her ear. "Hers too."
Katie looked frantically around as she turned back to Naomi who had heard nothing of their conversation and plucked a leaf out Katie’s her hair, blushing as she flicked it onto the floor.
"Fuck off, Ems,” Katie had hissed, turning back to Emily. “Your mong of a boyfriend is about to have a panic attack," Katie pursed her lips and gestured towards JJ.
Emily clucked her tongue and took the bottle from JJ, removing the lid with ease. "There you go, babe," she said with a smile, and it had given Katie the opportunity to focus on Naomi again.
When she put her hand down on the log in between them, Naomi put hers close enough so that their pinkies were touching.
~
Katie snaps out of her thoughts to find herself rubbing her thumb over the collar of a blue and yellow plaid shirt and almost can't bear to do it.
There are memories, here, in these tops and trousers, camis and leggings, each one with a link to Katie. A time when she'd laid her head against a jumper or pulled down a skirt roughly before pushing a leg between Naomi's.
A vest that Katie'd thrown on just to nip to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
She sighs, and sits down in the middle of it all, and wonders if she should just put everything back where it was and forget about the whole thing. But then, as she's moving garments around aimlessly from where she's sat on the floor amidst it all, she uncovers something she hasn't seen for a while.
It's a jacket, a grey one, with white trim around the lapels, and Katie recognises it instantly.
It's from the day Naomi broke up with her. When they were on the steps by college, and Katie had hugged Cook and he'd grabbed her arse and Naomi had seen it and gone fucking schiz. And it was all a load of bollocks, obviously, but Naomi had shouted just that little bit louder and dumped her in front of everyone.
If it wasn't for Cook they'd probably still be apart now, and they'd never be in this situation where Katie needs everything to change, but he'd gone to Naomi and apologised (suffering a black eye for his troubles) and Naomi had come around grovelling, standing firm in the face of Katie's mother and demanding Katie come downstairs.
It had felt like their first kiss all over again but still... that jacket reminded her of the worst day of her life (even worse than when her sister had announced that she was shagging JJ and their Dad nearly passed out at the dinner table) and she just wanted it gone.
After that, the rest was easier...
****
They’d settled back into their normal routine - fell back into simply being them; Katie and Naomi. And it had been nice. Better than nice actually; natural in a way that being with people before Naomi hadn’t been.
There was an ease between them, and often Katie would wonder if it was because both she and Naomi were girls and they just got each other.
But every time that thought entered her mind, it was just as quickly shattered by Naomi acting like an absolute twat.
Like the time Naomi promised Katie she’d cook a romantic meal for them and, instead, she’d completely forgotten and was too broke to get a takeaway so they had ended up sharing a bag of small chips from the local kebab shop - which Katie had paid for.
And Katie knows that Naomi doesn’t mean to be a twat (or at least, she hopes Naomi doesn’t mean to be) but sometimes she just is and when Naomi acts like an complete dick, Katie responds the only way she knows how and bitches back in a way that’s a little degrading and snappy but never truly nasty.
They love each other, Katie’s sure of that, but Katie also knows that love comes with rules; compromise. Each person must make slight sacrifices for the other person in order for there to be balance.
Katie had had to get used to letting Naomi try to educate her on a Sunday morning when Naomi would read the newspaper aloud over breakfast and try to explain to Katie what was wrong with the world (in which Katie had to focus to actually listen but did so because she knew it mattered to Naomi and that was what was important to her).
Or the cold, early mornings she’d spend wrapped up in several layers just so she’d be warm enough to stand around a bunch of trees (that Naomi complained were old and beautiful and needed to be protected) and hold up a homemade (compliments of Gina and another afternoon she’d rather have spent shopping or reading Heat) protest placards.
And so, Katie thinks, as she pulls open the kitchen drawer, having made her way downstairs, and takes out the largest pair of scissors in there, Naomi would just have to appreciate that all Katie was doing was helping them meet the middle ground on this one small (albeit very important, because, duh, style) issue.
****
The first cut, while not the deepest, is certainly the most satisfying.
It’s the way the material sounds as the metal slices through it, like when she’d cut up love letters from Danny that mainly said, Babe, you are TOTALLY bangin’! or complimented her tits in the most degrading way imaginable (“They’re not for sharing, you twat!” she’d said as she tipped the contents of her hands into the bin) and it had just felt so good to get it out of her system.
And this does, too. Purging Naomi (and herself) of these eyesores and picking up the pace while she’s at it.
It’s a bit trickier to get all the way through the dungarees but they become a nice jean skirt at the end of it and Katie leans back to admire her handiwork just as she hears the front door go.
She’s panicked, then, like she’d been lost in her own little world and now someone’s come to intrude.
And, actually, she really hadn’t meant to let it get this far - it was only supposed to be one or two items (the most disgusting, obviously) and she could say that she was trying to make a few improvements. Just some small, minor adjustments that went a little bit wrong.
But she’ll never be able to get away with this, and she’s panicking as she stands up, a hot flush creeping through her body, and looks down at the mess she’s made.
She can hardly say it’s an improvement at this stage. In fact, it’s a fucking disaster.
But, she reasons with herself, things have to get worse before they get better, right?
****
There’s this thirty seconds that start from the moment Naomi calls up, “Babe, I’m home,”, to the one in which Katie sees the door swing open and Naomi’s blue eyes go wider in shock than she’s ever seen before, where Katie tries to hide the evidence.
(She fails spectacularly of course.)
And actually, it’s a pretty rubbish idea, because not only are there now clothes covering the majority of their bedroom floor, but there’s shreds of clothing covering their bedroom floor, and there’s just no way possible that Katie could pick them all up and stuff them under the bed in time before Naomi reaches her (nimble fingered or not, Katie’s not that fucking good).
She’s managed to kick a fair bit of the mess she’s made under the bed and out of eyesight before Naomi enters the room, and Katie almost thinks she’s got away with it when Naomi flashes her a bright smile like usual and says, “Hey, gorgeous. I missed you today.”
Katie’s about to reply when Naomi’s eyebrows nearly shoot off the top of her head, her mouth falling slightly open as her eyes drop down to the scissors still held tightly in Katie’s hand and the frayed strip of red denim stuck across Katie’s foot.
(Damn her tights for being, like, fucking, static or some shit.)
Naomi’s not smiling anymore and, when Katie looks back up at her and as she watches Naomi’s brow knit together in what can only be anger, Katie braces herself for the verbal attack that’s about to begin.
****
“Tell me,” she starts. “Tell me that I’m fucking dreaming and you have not done what it looks like you’ve done.”
Katie considers retaliating, albeit briefly, with a snarky comment about how she’s done Naomi a favour and she should be, like, grateful that Katie’s saved her a job.
But now Naomi’s not even looking at her, and she’s scanning the floor, no doubt picking out parts of some of her favourite tops, and Katie knows she’s gone bright red herself because, actually, this was a fucking horrible idea.
“Any way you’d believe me if I did tell you that?” she tries and Naomi snaps her head up, shaking it like any further movement could send it flying off its hinges.
“I think you should go,” Naomi says as she crouches down, picking up the remains of that god-awful pig face that Katie’s always hated (even though it was quite nice to sleep in occasionally) and looks at it like it’s a dead friend about to be put in his casket.
Surely Naomi can’t mean it, Katie thinks. It’s their anniversary for fuck’s sake and it’s important and Naomi’s going to cry over a few ripped up bits of outdated plaid?
“Come on, babes. Don’t be like that. It’s sort of a good thing, yeah? You can start over.” She tries for pep, enthusiasm, but it’s all flat, especially when Naomi clutches the pig face to her chest and says nothing else.
“Right,” Katie sniffs, pulling her bag out from underneath what used to be clothes. “Well then. Enjoy your fucking evening with your pig shirt, yeah? I’ll be at the bar ordering your drink until you get there.”
She gives Naomi another few seconds to sort her shit out but, when she doesn’t, Katie purses her lips, steps over the colourful sea of remnants and heads out of the door, slamming it loudly behind her.
By the time she’s at the bottom of the stairs she already feels like a complete bitch; worse than that, really. Because, honestly, who would even do something like that?
She sinks down onto the bottom step, head in her hands as she thinks.
This could actually be the end, if she’s honest. She needs help to make sure that it isn’t.
****
Naomi doesn’t come to the bar, not that Katie’s at all surprised.
(Really, she’s not sure why she ever went ahead with their anniversary plans alone instead of heading back to Naomi and grovelling like she really should have done.)
It doesn’t really matter now though, because it’s late - or early really, considering midnight passed by her an hour ago - and Katie’s drowned her sorrow (guilt) in several large glasses of red wine that have left her head a little fuzzy.
In the morning, she thinks, as she stumbles into the taxi the kind barman ordered for her, in the morning when she’s not so drunk and not so stupid and Naomi’s not so angry, she’ll fix everything and things will be okay again because Naomi loves her and she’s sorry.
(She has a feeling as her heavy eyes flutter closed a little while later, that a simple apology isn’t going to be good enough.)
****
There are no text messages or missed calls on her phone when Katie wakes the following morning - the bed in Emily’s spare room leaving her neck sore and aching - and Naomi doesn’t answer when Katie tries to call her (or any of the several other attempts she makes throughout the morning).
Katie feels anger bubble within her chest that Naomi is daring to ignore her, it only lasts momentarily though, fading away as her eyes fall upon the photograph she has as her phone screensaver.
It’s from a few summers ago, back when they were younger (Naomi’s hair shorter and Katie’s that obnoxious cherry red) when they’d sneaked away for a romantic weekend break in Brighton. In the photo Katie’s beaming brightly at the camera as Naomi presses a loving kiss to her cheek and they both look deliriously happy, like there was no other place they wanted to be.
(And Katie remembers then that Naomi had told her as much; minutes before they’d actually taken it, sweeping a stray piece of hair out of Katie’s eyes and tucking it safely back behind her ear, at last voicing the words Katie had been longing to hear but had been too scared to say herself - “I love you,” Naomi had murmured gently, beautiful smile on her face, like it had been weighing her down and was finally setting her free.)
She can’t help but reach out to trace Naomi’s face, her fingertip dancing over the screen, and it’s only as her trail ends at Naomi’s chin, her finger sliding down a little lower on the screen that she realises what shirt Naomi is wearing - pink skin, big pointy ears and dark eyes resting over a protruding snout are staring right back at her.
Katie has to bite her lip to keep from crying then, because she didn’t just slice scissors through Naomi’s hideous clothing, they were Naomi’s memories she was erasing too with each snip snip snip that she made.
(Her mind flashes back to the hurt that had been hidden just barely beneath the anger on Naomi’s face when she’d seen what Katie had done to her belongings - Katie should have known then, really, that the piece of red denim that had clung to her foot was actually a fragment of Naomi’s heart.)
****
It doesn’t take Katie long after that to come up with a plan to make everything better (or so she hopes), the only problem is she doesn’t know where exactly it is she needs to look to find what she wants.
(Where the fuck had Naomi originally bought that t-shirt from anyway?)
Emily’s the one who suggests the town’s local charity shops when Katie gets irritated after an hour of shopping and bitches at one of Top Shop’s staff that, they should fucking get an animal section, yeah? Useless shitting shop, and even Oxfam, in the end, turns out to have nothing pig-related.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Katie groans, running a hand through her hair and following Emily into some little shop that she’s never noticed before let alone been in. “I’m, like, totally fucked if I can’t replace it.”
Emily’s lifts up several strands of coloured ribbon, seemingly impressed with her find, before flitting her eyes up to meet Katie’s and shrugging. “Well, it’s your own fault, Katie. You are a bit of cunt for cutting her clothes up in the first place. I mean, who does that?”
“Not fucking helping, you bitch,” Katie growls back.
Emily shrugs again and moves off to look at something else, and it’s then that Katie’s left to explore the shop on her own. It’s quaint and quiet - except for two older women who are holding up patterned fabric (that Naomi would probably love) - and full of paints and brushes and buttons and beads, and Katie doesn’t quite understand why Emily enjoys all this arts and crafts bollocks because it looks really boring.
She’s about to go and find Emily and complain again when a colourful box on one of the shelves catches her eye - the product title big and bold.
“They’re very good,” a voice from behind her says as soon as she picks them up, and Katie turns to see a little old man dressed in a white shirt with a green bow-tie and waist-coat smiling at her. “Have you used them before?”
“No,” Katie replies, and shakes her head feeling a little awkward. “Never.”
The man smiles at her and says, “I could tell you weren’t one of us - into this sort of stuff I mean - the moment I saw you.”
“Right.” Katie nods in agreement as she looks around at the shop’s other customers. “I just... I’m trying to fix something I did, or rather, destroyed, and, like, I can’t find anything with a pig on so I just thought that maybe...” Katie shrugs then when she realises she’s rambling (at a stranger nonetheless), and releases a frustrated breath. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“Well,” the old man starts, taking the box from her hands and tapping the lid with his finger as he places them on the counter next to the till. “If you can’t find what you’re looking for, creating it is the next best thing. And these really are very good.”
Katie manages a smile and nods her head, a rush of determination filling her chest. “I’ll take them.”
****
Buying the things she needed seemed ridiculously easy compared to what she was currently trying to do - the white t-shirt spread out straight on Emily’s dining table next to the newly opened box of fabric-crayons.
Katie picks up the black and begins drawing her outline, rolling her eyes as she does so - she’s shit at art, she always has been, and this has got to be the most utterly cheesy thing she’s ever done for anyone (and it isn’t helping Katie get this done, thinking that Naomi still might not forgive her after Katie has handed this over to her).
She carries on though and, with the outline finished, she picks up the pink and starts to colour in the pig she’s drawn, the slight chance that Naomi may forgive her and allow Katie to make things right between them again spurring her on.
****
Sitting back in her chair, Katie cracks her now-stiff neck and blinks up at the window when she realises how dark it’s gotten.
“Shit,” she mutters and rubs her hand over her face. It’s not as young as it used to be. But it’s still not old, yet, and she needs to stop acting like everything’s so fucking serious because that will give her wrinkles and, fine, she might have met the person she’s sure she wants to be with forever but it doesn’t mean she should be letting herself go this early.
But, she remembers, it’s her that’s close to letting Naomi go and she’s already been sat still for far too long.
She meets Emily in the doorway, nearly smacking into her as she struggles with a couple of bags from Tesco.
“Christ, Katie. Where’s the fire?”
She turns around before she’s at the end of the path and flashes Emily a big grin, and winks, and walks as quickly as she can to her car, clutching the t-shirt in one hand and her keys in the other.
“Good luck, you silly twat,” Emily calls after her.
Katie doesn’t need luck now, she knows, and tries to retain her smile. More like a fucking miracle, really.
****
The house feels a little different going back in, almost like she’s a stranger, but she can’t let it be.
She’s there to change things, to fix things, to make it all right again.
She stops short, though, when she finds Naomi sat in the lounge with a glass of wine, photos sprawled out across the floor as she sits cross-legged amongst them.
There’s music on, that sad stuff that Naomi listens to whenever there’s a disaster somewhere in the world, like an oil spill or a plane crash - only this time the disaster is a lot closer to home.
Naomi hasn’t heard her, but Katie’s leaning in the doorway watching her pick up photo after photo and then set it back down again, listening as Naomi sings along as her voice cracks, and Katie knows that she’s crying.
It’s the side of Naomi that Katie hates to see but loves that it exists all the same. She’d never have guessed it, what with the way she always acted so hard at school and then at college and looked like she didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything.
It was never true, though. It didn’t take Katie long after she started looking - like really looking - to see that Naomi was like her; just a girl, with massive feelings and the need to put them somewhere safe.
And now… now Katie’s taken away that safety, so Naomi’s wiping her nose with her hand and taking another massive gulp of white wine and singing, “Ain’t nobody, does me better, makes me happy, makes me feel this way,” in between sobs.
It’s breaking Katie too much to watch but she can’t walk away. Not from this. Not from her.
With a shaking hand, Katie presses stop on the CD player and Naomi jumps, nearly falling to her side when she spins around.
“Oh,” she says with a sniff and turning away from Katie again. “It’s you.”
“Naomi…” Katie starts and then falters. She’s not sure she can speak without crying.
So instead she takes a few tentative steps into the lounge, careful not to stand on any pictures of her face, Naomi’s face, Emily’s, James’, JJ’s, Cook’s… they’re all there, looking up at her - judging - and finds a seat on the couch, sliding her palms to rest just in between her knees.
“What’s all this then?” she says finally, though she thinks she already knows the answer.
Naomi sniffs again and picks one photo up. Katie recognises it - it’s from two summers ago when they’d gone to Cyprus (like Naomi had always wanted) and Katie had got a sunburnt nose and Naomi had dotted a little bit of cream on it as Emily took the picture.
They’d kissed just after and they hadn’t stopped until Emily made an Ugh sound and told them she was going to the bar to see if there was anyone left in the world not snogging each others’ faces off.
(In the end she’d pulled a really stunning blonde that Katie had raised her eyebrows at the next morning, causing Emily to flip her off before the girl joined them all for breakfast.)
Katie smiles despite herself until she sees the scissors in Naomi’s other hand, fingers clenched tightly around the metal.
“You know,” Naomi starts, and Katie feels her skin go hot again as she waits for Naomi to continue. “I was going through your magazines at first because I thought What could I do back, to make this hurt less? To make you hurt like me? and it seemed fair.”
Katie flinches because, shit - she never actually thought Naomi would retaliate. (We’re the same, she remembers. How could she forget?) But she keeps quiet and waits for Naomi to continue.
“And there were loads of them,” she laughs, then, and sniffs again, wiping a tear as it trickles down her cheek. “Like, fucking fucktons of magazines - I don’t know where you get the money, honestly. So I was going to do it, I really was and then… then I found these.” She gestures towards the photos, and there really are a lot of them, all spread out so she could only just see the carpet underneath.
“And then I thought that this would be the best way to get you back - to rip up all this stuff that you’ve kept for years, all these memories of… of us.” There’s another big sob then, and Katie so desperately wants to go to her but she can’t, not until Naomi’s finished what she needs to say.
“But then I realised,” she squeaks, and Katie’s only heard her like this once before - when she thought she was losing her - and it breaks Katie completely, and then she’s crying too. “I realised that if I ripped these up then it’d be taking away my memories too and I thought… I actually thought I’d never be able to forgive you for what you’d done and that this might be all I had left.”
The sob rips through Naomi’s body then, and Katie’s had enough - pushes the pictures aside as she scrambles onto the floor until she’s in front of Naomi, Katie pulling her into her chest, wrapping her arms around Naomi’s head and holding her as she cries.
There’s a shaky moment where Katie doesn’t think Naomi will hold her back but she does - of course she does - and Katie squeezes her for all she’s worth.
Relaxing her grip once Naomi’s chest has stopped heaving, she pulls back and holds Naomi’s head in her hands, forcing her to look Katie right in the eye.
“Babe, I am so fucking sorry. I honestly… look, it was fucking horrible that I did that. And I didn’t mean it to be but it was and now I just… I can’t lose you, Naoms. I’d never want to take away your memories, not of us. Look at how I keep mine,” she says and turns around quickly, eyes scanning the floor before she finds one that she wants. “Here, right - it’s the last summer before you buggered off to Uni and left me here with Cook. And we’re in your garden with your mum getting pissed on fake Jack Daniels and diet coke. And… look at what I’m wearing.”
Naomi takes the photo from Katie and stares at it intently, biting her lips as she tries to hold back a smile.
“It’s my paint-splat top… look at it - it almost comes down to your knees.”
“Yeah, see,” Katie says softly, hands on Naomi’s thighs. “What I did… I didn’t just do it to you - I did it to me too. When I… when I cut up your stuff, I did what you couldn’t and I took away both our memories. Only I was too fucking stupid to see it once it was too late.”
“But, Katie, you have to understand - we can’t be selfish like this. Even if it was just me it would have been hurting it still doesn’t make it right.”
Katie shakes her head, taking the photo from Naomi and setting it on the floor with the others and collecting her hands up so they’re both resting on Katie’s legs.
“Babe, this is, like, the most fucked up thing ever, but I never did it to hurt you. I thought I was helping…”
Naomi stares at her for a moment, brow furrowed, and Katie prepares herself for the bitchy comments.
But they don’t come and, instead, Naomi’s laughing and falling sideways onto the floor. “Christ, Kates! That is the most fucked up thing ever. What were you thinking?”
“Honestly don’t know,” Katie mutters, rolling her eyes at herself.
“God, you are a silly cunt, babe,” Naomi says, pulling Katie down to meet her. They lay with their heads on the floor, surrounded by memories, pictures of their life together so far, and Katie remembers that she’s got something that will help her to make a fresh start.
“Naomi - I love you. And I’m really, really fucking sorry.”
Naomi sighs and closes her eyes, reaching out for Katie’s cheek as she pushes their noses together. “I’m a bit drunk,” she says, and kisses Katie quickly. “But I love you too.”
Katie smiles into another kiss before she murmurs, “Good - because I need you to strip.”
****
Despite not wearing it for all that long, Naomi does indeed like the new pig t-shirt.
“We’ll make more,” Katie says, arching her neck back, trying to grip at the carpet with her heels and failing spectacularly. “Loads more, with all types of animals, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Naomi agrees from somewhere below Katie’s stomach. “Oh, fuck yeah.”
****
They’re lying on the floor, panting and sweaty, and Katie can’t fucking believe she’s back here.
She hums and shifts a little, reaching down to remove whatever it is that’s stuck to her arse.
She laughs when she sees it, pulling it up to their faces so they can both see it.
“Fuck,” she says throatily and Naomi kisses the side of her head. “I’d forgotten about this one.”
“I hadn’t,” Naomi grins and plucks it from Katie’s fingers. “It’s one of my favourites actually - I’ve got a copy of it on my desk at work.”
“Really?” Katie twists around to her side so she’s looking at Naomi’s profile. “But I look ridiculous.”
“Babe, I hate to break it to you but some of your own fashion choices are a disaster. I mean, fucking leopard print throughout college, those massive hooped earrings.”
Naomi lolls her head to the side and it stops Katie from going spare - she’s trying to fix things today and, fuck it. Naomi’s right. She’s always bollocking right.
So she sighs and takes the photo back.
“Okay, fine. But why this one?”
“Because,” Naomi says rolling all the way over until she’s on top of Katie, and they both hum as their limbs connect. “Because you look happy.”
Katie’s got to concede that, yeah actually. Happy.
“Well then, babes, if you like that maybe you should get the camera out now because this is pretty much fucking perfect.”
Naomi’s eyes widen and she’s off Katie and rummaging for her phone within seconds.
“No, no no!” Katie’s saying and flailing about with her hands but, when Naomi shoots her a look from under her hair, Katie knows she’s got no choice.
“New memories, right babe?” Naomi winks, and chucks her the new pig shirt.
“Right,” Katie grins and slips it on over her head. “I’m in.”