fic: i knew your story like i knew mine - lily/kat
i knew your story like i knew mine.
the intimacy of it doesn't feel earned, but on a brief occasion - in an even briefer moment of sobriety - kat'll look up at lily and lily's hand will pause, fingers resting at her temple, and it almost feels right. almost. lily loveless/kathryn prescott. 4476 words. pg-13.
note: not counting the drabble I wrote a few days ago, this is not only my first venture into Skins fandom, but, specifically, into the Skins RPF fandom. Lily/Kat was just too much to deny, of course, and I hope I did them justice.
disclaimer: This story is lies, lies, lies. Complete fiction.
Forget all those places that you've never really been,
and all those situations you somehow found yourself in.
Let your body sink into me,
like your favorite memory.
(something to do with my hands, her space holiday)
The clouds part and light breaks through. Tears sparkle down Lily's cheek.
"This isn't - " she starts. She chokes on the words, has to stop and catch her breath.
She never finishes.
(This is later.)
It's easy to say that the first thing Kathryn is drawn to is the blue of Lily's eyes. She isn't wearing makeup, the paleness of her skin soft and even and the blue standing out against the porcelain, and her lips are just the right shade of pink around her teeth when she smiles. It's a natural sort, and Kathryn finds appreciation creeping up on her before she can help it, because this is what's needed: they all need to get on, because it's a long ride ahead.
"Lily," she says, extending a hand.
"Kathryn." The shake is firm enough, friendly, warmth between palms and only a moment of lingering.
This is all pretense. They've already met. They already know who the other is.
But this is how it begins for them.
There's in inscrutable way in which Lily looks at her sometimes, when they're out smoking a fag. Through the twirl of smoke between them, Kat sees blue looking back. Then blink, the blue is gone and she's off looking aimlessly down the quiet road.
This happens every time they step out, have a moment like this; Lily staring until she's caught, looking away like she wasn't. And Kathryn, well. Kathryn never tells her to stop.
When left to their own devices, they often talk about things not involving them at all. They don't talk about Mountview, the intervening years, acting, the show, none of that. They get right fucked up and talk about the universe and the meaning of life and Lily snorts, "fucking stereotypes, we are" and Kathryn giggles madly. But in the end, they keep coming back to it, talking about the world outside their bubble like it means something.
It's comfortable in that dangerous sort of way, complex and totally fucked. Kat's head is always resting on Lily's shoulder or in Lily's lap and maybe, sometimes, Lily's fingers thread through red strands of hair. The intimacy of it doesn't feel earned, but on a brief occasion - in an even briefer moment of sobriety - Kat'll look up at Lily and Lily's hand will pause, fingers resting at her temple, and it almost feels right.
Almost.
They're on lunch break and fags lit, smoke pilfering the air amongst them and Kathryn looks far too comfortable amongst the lads.
The cold air bites at Lily's fingers and in a tremble, her fag drops to the ground. Her heel snuffs it out. Megan mutters something sarcastic under her breath when she walks past, but Lily doesn't meet her eyes, trudging back inside and pointedly not looking Kat's way.
Bristol never feels like home. It's the hotel rooms, mostly, the crispness of the sheets tucked tight under corners, chocolates on their pillows and room service menu always within reach. It isn't home.
She'll catch herself sometimes, though, walking round the corner with Kathryn (and maybe Meg, and maybe anyone, but always Kathryn) and it reminds her of cool afternoons after school on the way to the cinemas or to get a cup of tea or whatnot, and it feels nice. She'll catch herself feeling this, and then look up and see the hotel's name splayed across brick, and then she remembers.
She's sure Kat feels the same way, hopping on a train back home during the week as often as she does, but she never actually tells her I don't feel at home here. There's a part of her that just doesn't feel right saying that to Kathryn, mainly because she isn't quite sure she wants to hear it from Kat, either.
They asked her if she'd mind kissing a girl. She hadn't, wouldn't. Doesn't.
She always ends up staring at Kathryn, by accident, and when Kat looks at her, she remembers the producers voice, remembers the question. She looks away.
They had asked her and she had answered, not knowing what was in store for her.
(If she had, she still would've agreed to it. Let's be honest here.)
Nothing ever actually happens at the clubs. They get incredibly fucked up and dance like fools and laugh and down one too many shots two too many hours after they're already blurry eyed and stumbling.
But nothing ever actually happens.
It's frustrating, skittering on the edge of expected that there'd at least be a drunken snog here or there, on the dance floor or against a bathroom stall, or even in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, or in the hotel. Somewhere. But, then, nothing. It's like if the aliens in Independence Day showed up all gloomy and threatening and then decided at the last minute not to blow the White House to smithereens. What a fucking let down that'd be, right?
There's a groan at this horrible analogy, of course, but Kat's pissed and nearly passed out on the toilet, skirt around her ankles and fingers clumsy on the keypad of her mobile, Lily's name illuminated on the tiny screen and her thumb hovers over the send button. She wants to call her and rip her a new one -
Why the bloody fuck aren't you here fucking me? I'm pissed, you're pissed, let's have a good old time and worry about the rest in the morning.
Fucking hell, that sounded bad. Even drunk she knows this.
Kat'll be on about Meg, a spat or whatnot, but told heavy and heated in that way only a sister can manage. Lily smirks behind her tea when Kat swears for lack of better description. She's wont to do so, stopping short and losing her train of thought, "Fuck it" or "Christ's sake" put in place of an actual conclusion.
Lily remains quiet for the most part, lets Kat get it all out before trying to open her mouth and say something. And when she does, it's not much - mostly because Kat doesn't require much, and this she likes about her. "Well, fuck, Kat, it's a wonder you survived childhood."
"No shit," Kat rolls her eyes and laughs. "She's my fucking sister, though."
Lily nods, gulps the last of her tea and groans when it runs cold down her throat. They've been outside for well over their break time, and she's sure Kat's noticed, what with her glancing to the doors nervously, like she's afraid of getting caught with a fag by school officials.
Except this isn't school and they aren't schoolgirls and this little dance they keep dancing is getting ridiculous.
She's gotten quite good at this acting thing.
She reminds herself of this constantly. Mostly when she's filming scenes with Kathryn. It's acting, but not where everyone thinks it is. Shaky hands shoved into the pockets of her blazer and a nonchalant eyeroll as she compliments Kat on her choice of flavored lip gloss (when she doesn't see her for a few days, other scenes with other people, she can still taste strawberry).
This is acting. When she's kissing her? Not so much.
It's luck that her feelings generally coincide with that of Naomi (not that she'd ever admit to it), so that 'acting' isn't really acting, but simply her getting on with her own pervy wants and ignoring the rather large camera filming the entire thing.
She catches Kat's tongue darting out to lick her lips a second before they kiss, each time, and maybe once, just a little, she briefly touched hers with her own. And maybe a moan reverberated against teeth and tongue and lips and maybe it was Kat doing this, not Emily.
These are the things Lily tells herself before bed, guilt hanging too heavy for a searching hand to go between her thighs. There are rules, and wanking off imagining it's your (most-likely) straight costar would be breaking at least a few of them.
(This guilt will stay with her for longer than she cares for. Interviews and PR and compliments to her acting, and she squirms in her seat. It isn't modesty - like it should be - but discomfort. When she deters compliments, it's simply because they're unfounded. But it's not like she can say that.
It'll never be so uncomplicated for Lily to be able to say to the interviewer: it was quite easy kissing Kathryn. The hard part was stopping.
If only.)
There's a scar on the knuckle of Lily's index finger that Kat takes to tracing idly whenever they're pissed and in the backseat of a cab. Not really a war wound, but it curves like the moon and it leaves Kathryn curious as to where she got it.
There's a night of particular debauchery involving nothing short of Meg and Kaya making out in the far corner and Jack looking on jealously, all to the time of trash music that even after dropping E doesn't get your blood flowing quite right. And, as always, Lily and Kat end up sharing a lift, only without the expected company of Meg, who'd disappeared halfway through evening, along with Kaya, and this wasn't the least bit suspicious to anyone with a pair of eyes, not at all.
Kat's head rests perfectly on the crook of Lily's shoulder, and she can feel the warmth of the girl's cheek against the top of her head while her finger traces the scarred knuckle.
"Lils..."
"Kitty-Kat..." She says back in perfect imitation of Kat's tone. She snorts, laughs and Kat smells rum.
They're outside the hotel, driver turning in his seat expectantly, just short of holding his hand out for the fare. Kat pushes away from the seat, from Lily, to fumble around in her purse until her fingers catch sloppy on a few pounds, which she practically throws at the driver when Lily yanks her out of the car suddenly. She half-tries for an apology thrown over her shoulder to the driver, but Lily's got quite a grip and it takes her a second to realize how fucking freezing it is outside, and the way Lily's hand, up to her knuckles (scarred and un-scarred) go stark white around Kat's wrist, and this is just preservation, since it's about ten below and their breath is as thick as smoke in front of them.
They push through the spinning doors and are blanketed with heat, the lobby bright, too bright. Lily lets go of Kat's hand.
Just preservation, you see.
She walks off, fumbling around for her room key, only stopping when she nearly runs into closed elevator doors. She leans against the reflective metal, and looks at Kat through the mirror image. There's a smile there, a tilt of the head. "Fucking off, or what?"
(Okay, so something actually does happen at the clubs. Once.)
Kat's hands are on either side of Lily's face and she's kissing her, sloppy and tender at the same time. Lily's bottom lip catches between Kat's teeth and she moans, and Kat presses her hips forward until, finally, Lily breaks the kiss, puts space between them.
"We're both pissed now, Kat. Easy now..." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, regrets it immediately, suddenly aware of the lack of Kat on her lips. Disappointment sits heavy in the pit of her stomach.
"I'm n - " Kat's brow furrows and her eyes shift down, away. "You're drunk?"
"Yeah," Lily can't help but laugh because, really, it's obvious now, isn't it? "The whole point, being a bar and all..."
"I didn't - " There's a kink in Kat's jaw when it firms, a line there more pronounced, and her nostrils flare, and it's quite endearing. Lily lightly taps the tip of her button nose, smirking when Kat pushes her hand away.
"You're quite twee."
"And you're proper pissed." Kat runs a hand over her face.
Finally, Lily gets it. "You're not?"
Kat shakes her head. "No."
"But - " Even without the alcohol, the confusion is suffocating. "How are you not...?"
"Didn't want to be. Figured I'd be in my right mind for once, have a bit of fun like that, try it out." She finally looks back at Lily, but only for the briefest moment.
"So, you're...you're sober." The pieces fall together, slowly. "You're sober and you're kissing me."
"Sounds about right, fucked as it is."
"You're sober and I'm not and you're kissing me and you're sober and I'm...I'm not." Lily swallows, suddenly regretting the last five or so shots. "And you kissed me."
"It's fucking nothing. Don't have to be drunk to get caught up, do I? Lots of sober fucks out there who do stupid shit. Me, I'm just joining the ranks."
"Is there...is there a bloke here? Or a lass, who...?" Lily's throat tightens, and she can feel her stomach turning. When she continues, there's a little more emotion in her voice than she really cares there to be. "Are you just trying to have fun or what?"
"No." Kat swallows and it's audible, the thumping of the music blurring into the background and nothing left but them in the bathroom, water dripping from faucets and lewd graffitti on the walls. She doesn't say anything for the longest time.
Lily reaches out and takes her hand. "Come back to the hotel with me."
"You're drunk, I'm not gonna - "
"I didn't mean it like that, promise." Lily gives her hand a squeeze. "Just come back to the hotel with me, alright?"
At the hotel, on Lily's bed, Lily has an arm wrapped around Kat's waist and she's looking at her with unfocused eyes, smiling wistfully, surring: "Can't we just be friends?"
"Of course," Kat says, because what else is there, right?
"Things are just...simple, like this. I like simple."
"I like simple, too."
"Simple's good." Lily's eyes fall shut, breathing slowing as slumber starts to take over. "You're good. Don't wanna lose..."
She never finishes, the end of her sentence instead punctuated by a resounding snore into her pillow.
Kat wakes up to find Lily spooning her. The morning light is harsh, unforgiving, but the curtains are too far out of reach to yank away brightness, so she sees fit to roll onto her opposite side, away from it, Lily's wrist limply following, one hip to the other, without her waking.
Her bottom lip sticks out prominantly in a way Kat's sure it often doesn't, and the contrast of her lashes against the paleness of her skin, along with the morning light putting her in a glowy sort of state, and these are things that Kat counts like numbers, scribbles mental notes to herself and files away to remember later.
Lily's fingers twitch in sleep, her nails doing brief sprints across Kat's hip, the cotton of her shirt bunched and wrinkled and pushed out of the way. Kat catches herself smiling at the movement, her own fingers reaching out, daring, letting blonde sort of curl around her. There's the distant sound of a car starting down the road, and front doors opening, the world waking up and getting on. It doesn't stir her out of bed anymore than it normally would, especially so with present company.
There's a hum behind Lily's lips, tuneless and groggy, and her eyelashes start to flutter. She doesn't wake, and Kat finds that she'd been holding her breath waiting for it, quite ridiculous as it is.
She can hear the maid cart being pushed down hall, still a few doors away, and looks back over her shoulder to see the DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging on the wrong side of the door.
"Fuck me," she swears, being careful to pull the sheets off of herself without disturbing Lily. When she swings her legs over the side of the bed, she can feel Lily stir in her sleep, hear her mumble nonsensically, "In a minute."
Kat stifles a laugh and skits on over to the door, opening it and putting the sign on the outside and closing it in one swift motion. Click, and she retraces her steps back to the bed. Only when her knee sinks into the mattress and it groans under the new weight, Lily's eyes flutter open and she clears her throat suddenly, instinctively. She looks around for a moment, dazed, but then her eyes land on Kat and she relaxes, head falling back into her pillow.
"Fuck's sake, Kathryn, it's early."
"Fuck's sake, Lily," Kat shoots back in a teasing tone, grinning when Lily aimlessly throws a pillow at her. "Sun's up, so I guarantee we're both in for a word whenever we manage to get to set."
"Shit." Last week of filming, for them. There's the finale after, but they're not in it, so this'll be the end of the road until next year. They get out of bed, get dressed, all in a right amount of silence that probably means something, carries more weight than either is willing to admit to. They share a cab to set. The silence follows them.
Lily's thankful for Naomi, you know.
Without her, she wouldn't be able to press Kathryn against the lockers, hard, practically moan I can't stand it and kiss her, kiss her like she's never gonna get to again.
Without Naomi, she wouldn't be able to do this, over and over again. Rehearsals, in sweats; shooting, fifteen takes at least. Kathryn laughs and sometimes Lily does too. She flubs it on occasion, forgets the line completely and just fucking attacks Kat with her mouth. She laughs then, too, mumbling a sorry when she starts to see bruises on her lips.
"It's okay," Kat'll say back, a little breathless.
They don't really talk after it wraps up. There's texting, certainly, and a few attempted calls that never cross paths, but it's a long time that Kat goes without hearing Lily's voice, and it's sort of stupid, that ache that won't go away.
She hates it, starts to hate Lily for making her miss her. But mostly, she just fucking misses her.
It should probably be acknowledged how self-involved this potentially is. Because, honestly, even Lily knows that it's a bit much to host a party for the airing of one's own episode. But she does, and she'll look back and think: when was it ever a good idea?
It sounds stupid, and maybe it's a lie, or maybe she's just that good at suppressing things, but she forgot a bit of the details. She remembers the rain and leaves and the blanket against her bare thighs, and the way Kathryn's tongue darted out just before their lips met. But the dots, they don't necessarily connect. So, she hosts a party, and all of her good friends and even some family (but thank god, not her dad) get to see her fucking Kathryn.
Because it isn't Emily, it isn't Naomi, that they see. They see the girl that had been attached to Lily's arm during filming, the intimate touches shared between them passing under the radar until the episode airs and suddenly the pieces fall together, the puzzle completed, and they get it.
And she feels it, the moment when everything clicks and everyone takes turns passing sidelong glances at her. They make jokes, laugh it up, and there's more alcohol for distraction, but there's still the shift, inevitable. They can see through the facade of acting and know it's something more. A cynical generation won't lean towards love, but sex and fucking and fingering in record booths are certainly on the list of possibilities.
Fuck, of inevitabilities.
Impulsively, she gets on her dad's bike one morning and rides off across town. She doesn't even try to kid herself as to where she's going.
Eventually, inevitably, she sits on her bike at the end of the driveway, looking at the PRESCOTT emblazened on the mailbox and up at the bedroom window that might be Kathryn's and the afternoon sun is shining down, hot, on the back of her neck.
Still, she finds herself shivering.
"Fuck's sake." She turns and she pedals away.
There are interviews, little bits put on the telly, premieres they're contractually obligated to attend. They blur together as one, really, questions starting to repeat and fade, answers automatic, memorized.
She doesn't remember much of them, really. All she cares to hold onto is the way Lily's hand rests on her thigh under the table, or at the small of her back down the red carpet of whatever movie's premiere. There's the way her lips touched the curve of her ear when she whispered something sarcastic or ridiculous, trying to lighten the mood, keep boredom at bay.
She remembers Lily telling her, emotion thick in her voice despite the bright smile: I missed you.
"I missed you, too," she remembers saying, immediately, words catching in her throat.
She remembers the roll of Lily's eyes, the nudge of her elbow. "Don't get all sentimental on me now, Prescott."
Filming starts up again. They get on with it.
In the grand scheme of things, she knows that this is all incredibly tiny, and incredibly inconsequential to the rest of the world. She knows this. Words like celebrity and fame don't really apply here, as it's like big fish, little pond, right? There's a little box they fit into, and only temporarily, and by tomorrow, it'll be tipped over and they'll be rid of. Simple as that, and she's alright with this.
Life moves on and people go in different directions, and names carry a memory that's as distant as it is perhaps fond, instead of any reaction that holds currency in the present.
The worst part, though, is that this so-called grand scheme of things has a distinct lack of boundaries. The show opens doors and introduces new faces, but there's an unspoken path they're guided along, a yellow brick road into yonder. And that's alright, as it's going on, but once those walls go down, it's more than a little frightening.
Because going from being secretly in love with your costar and having no choice, really, on what to do about it, to being given your freedom back to pursue whatever you like is, well...it's quite terrifying.
Really, it scares the shit out of her.
So when Kat says, head resting in her lap and staring at a pencil stuck in the dressing room ceiling, "I don't want this to end" there's a catch in Lily's throat before she even responds.
"Neither do I." And it's the truth, but she doesn't mean it like Kat does. She doesn't tell her this, either.
(It ends, of course. They could never kid themselves out of that.)
There's a shoot, a bit later, just the two of them. Lily's hair's too big - a bird's nest, it is - but Kat looks gorgeous, and this is the only thing Lily cares to focus on, the only thing that really gets her through it.
She sits against the wall, sunk to the floor, legs resting up on the foot of the bed where Kat sits, just a few inches away. (Maybe Lily focuses on this, too, a little bit.)
Nice hair, Kat mouths at her, hairdresser with her back turned, and Lily snorts, which doesn't please the makeup girl much. Lily flips Kat the bird.
"Love you, too, Lils." (She doesn't focus on this; she makes sure she doesn't.)
"Think you're s'posed to be looking at the camera, Loveless."
The sound of the camera clicking away is suddenly quite audible, and Kat isn't looking at Lily but Lily's certainly looking at her and she starts to apologize, not really meaning it.
The photographer waves a hand. "No, it's good. I'm getting good shots here."
Kat's arm tucked under Lily's, palm along the bare curve of her shoulder, and maybe her fingers press a little harder into the skin there. Maybe, for the briefest moment, the corner of Kat's mouth curls up, sneaky and just the slightest bit devilsih.
Maybe Lily stops breathing for a minute there, too.
Afterwards, all the shots laid out before them, Kat's back in her civvies and leaning against Lily's back to get a closer look. At the pictures that is.
And, see, Lily's eyes immediately find the shot. That moment, captured in film, immortalized or some other poetic nonsense, and she'd smile if she wasn't left a bit breathless at the sight. She can feel Kat still beside her, hand resting idly on Lily's arm, and when Lily glances at her, she's sure she can see where her eyes have landed as well.
The smile is slow, but full, and she looks at Lily and Lily's sure she's looking into rapture.
"Looks quite alright, doesn't it?" Her hand still rests on Lily's arm.
Lily can barely manage a nod. "Quite alright, yeah."
They go out the back way, into a narrow alley where the sun's shining on puddles and a graffiti'd dumpster, ideal for sharing a fag before making a quick run to the tube.
Lily fumbles a bit with the pack, maybe because of the cold biting at her fingers but mostly because she can feel Kat's eyes on her, and because she keeps remembering the photo (this is the money shot right here, this'll be our cover, I guarantee you, the photographer had said) and it's all a bit much, but she finally snags one out and holds it for Kat to take. She doesn't, and Lily looks up, brow furrowing. "Wha - ?"
Kat opens her mouth to say something. Closes it. Then, before Lily can even think to gasp in surprise, she pushes her hand away - the fag falling to the ground unlit - and she shoves Lily against the brick wall and she kisses her.
The clouds part and light breaks through. Tears sparkle down Lily's cheek.
"This isn't - " she starts. She chokes on the words, has to stop and catch her breath.
She never finishes. Kathryn steps forward, on the tips of her toes, and kisses her. Against lips, amongst warm gasps, she practically growls. "Fucking complicate everything, you do..."
Premiere night. They sneak out the back door for a smoke. They stand in comfortable silence for a long while, not caring if anybody ever notices they're gone.
Finally -
"I quite like you." The fag falls to the ground, goes out under Kat's heel. "You know?"
A smile starts, but doesn't quite make it. They stare at each other for a long moment before Lily snorts, shaking her head. "I quite like you, too, Kathryn."
Kat smirks. "Wasn't hard now, was it?"
the intimacy of it doesn't feel earned, but on a brief occasion - in an even briefer moment of sobriety - kat'll look up at lily and lily's hand will pause, fingers resting at her temple, and it almost feels right. almost. lily loveless/kathryn prescott. 4476 words. pg-13.
note: not counting the drabble I wrote a few days ago, this is not only my first venture into Skins fandom, but, specifically, into the Skins RPF fandom. Lily/Kat was just too much to deny, of course, and I hope I did them justice.
disclaimer: This story is lies, lies, lies. Complete fiction.
Forget all those places that you've never really been,
and all those situations you somehow found yourself in.
Let your body sink into me,
like your favorite memory.
(something to do with my hands, her space holiday)
The clouds part and light breaks through. Tears sparkle down Lily's cheek.
"This isn't - " she starts. She chokes on the words, has to stop and catch her breath.
She never finishes.
(This is later.)
It's easy to say that the first thing Kathryn is drawn to is the blue of Lily's eyes. She isn't wearing makeup, the paleness of her skin soft and even and the blue standing out against the porcelain, and her lips are just the right shade of pink around her teeth when she smiles. It's a natural sort, and Kathryn finds appreciation creeping up on her before she can help it, because this is what's needed: they all need to get on, because it's a long ride ahead.
"Lily," she says, extending a hand.
"Kathryn." The shake is firm enough, friendly, warmth between palms and only a moment of lingering.
This is all pretense. They've already met. They already know who the other is.
But this is how it begins for them.
There's in inscrutable way in which Lily looks at her sometimes, when they're out smoking a fag. Through the twirl of smoke between them, Kat sees blue looking back. Then blink, the blue is gone and she's off looking aimlessly down the quiet road.
This happens every time they step out, have a moment like this; Lily staring until she's caught, looking away like she wasn't. And Kathryn, well. Kathryn never tells her to stop.
When left to their own devices, they often talk about things not involving them at all. They don't talk about Mountview, the intervening years, acting, the show, none of that. They get right fucked up and talk about the universe and the meaning of life and Lily snorts, "fucking stereotypes, we are" and Kathryn giggles madly. But in the end, they keep coming back to it, talking about the world outside their bubble like it means something.
It's comfortable in that dangerous sort of way, complex and totally fucked. Kat's head is always resting on Lily's shoulder or in Lily's lap and maybe, sometimes, Lily's fingers thread through red strands of hair. The intimacy of it doesn't feel earned, but on a brief occasion - in an even briefer moment of sobriety - Kat'll look up at Lily and Lily's hand will pause, fingers resting at her temple, and it almost feels right.
Almost.
They're on lunch break and fags lit, smoke pilfering the air amongst them and Kathryn looks far too comfortable amongst the lads.
The cold air bites at Lily's fingers and in a tremble, her fag drops to the ground. Her heel snuffs it out. Megan mutters something sarcastic under her breath when she walks past, but Lily doesn't meet her eyes, trudging back inside and pointedly not looking Kat's way.
Bristol never feels like home. It's the hotel rooms, mostly, the crispness of the sheets tucked tight under corners, chocolates on their pillows and room service menu always within reach. It isn't home.
She'll catch herself sometimes, though, walking round the corner with Kathryn (and maybe Meg, and maybe anyone, but always Kathryn) and it reminds her of cool afternoons after school on the way to the cinemas or to get a cup of tea or whatnot, and it feels nice. She'll catch herself feeling this, and then look up and see the hotel's name splayed across brick, and then she remembers.
She's sure Kat feels the same way, hopping on a train back home during the week as often as she does, but she never actually tells her I don't feel at home here. There's a part of her that just doesn't feel right saying that to Kathryn, mainly because she isn't quite sure she wants to hear it from Kat, either.
They asked her if she'd mind kissing a girl. She hadn't, wouldn't. Doesn't.
She always ends up staring at Kathryn, by accident, and when Kat looks at her, she remembers the producers voice, remembers the question. She looks away.
They had asked her and she had answered, not knowing what was in store for her.
(If she had, she still would've agreed to it. Let's be honest here.)
Nothing ever actually happens at the clubs. They get incredibly fucked up and dance like fools and laugh and down one too many shots two too many hours after they're already blurry eyed and stumbling.
But nothing ever actually happens.
It's frustrating, skittering on the edge of expected that there'd at least be a drunken snog here or there, on the dance floor or against a bathroom stall, or even in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, or in the hotel. Somewhere. But, then, nothing. It's like if the aliens in Independence Day showed up all gloomy and threatening and then decided at the last minute not to blow the White House to smithereens. What a fucking let down that'd be, right?
There's a groan at this horrible analogy, of course, but Kat's pissed and nearly passed out on the toilet, skirt around her ankles and fingers clumsy on the keypad of her mobile, Lily's name illuminated on the tiny screen and her thumb hovers over the send button. She wants to call her and rip her a new one -
Why the bloody fuck aren't you here fucking me? I'm pissed, you're pissed, let's have a good old time and worry about the rest in the morning.
Fucking hell, that sounded bad. Even drunk she knows this.
Kat'll be on about Meg, a spat or whatnot, but told heavy and heated in that way only a sister can manage. Lily smirks behind her tea when Kat swears for lack of better description. She's wont to do so, stopping short and losing her train of thought, "Fuck it" or "Christ's sake" put in place of an actual conclusion.
Lily remains quiet for the most part, lets Kat get it all out before trying to open her mouth and say something. And when she does, it's not much - mostly because Kat doesn't require much, and this she likes about her. "Well, fuck, Kat, it's a wonder you survived childhood."
"No shit," Kat rolls her eyes and laughs. "She's my fucking sister, though."
Lily nods, gulps the last of her tea and groans when it runs cold down her throat. They've been outside for well over their break time, and she's sure Kat's noticed, what with her glancing to the doors nervously, like she's afraid of getting caught with a fag by school officials.
Except this isn't school and they aren't schoolgirls and this little dance they keep dancing is getting ridiculous.
She's gotten quite good at this acting thing.
She reminds herself of this constantly. Mostly when she's filming scenes with Kathryn. It's acting, but not where everyone thinks it is. Shaky hands shoved into the pockets of her blazer and a nonchalant eyeroll as she compliments Kat on her choice of flavored lip gloss (when she doesn't see her for a few days, other scenes with other people, she can still taste strawberry).
This is acting. When she's kissing her? Not so much.
It's luck that her feelings generally coincide with that of Naomi (not that she'd ever admit to it), so that 'acting' isn't really acting, but simply her getting on with her own pervy wants and ignoring the rather large camera filming the entire thing.
She catches Kat's tongue darting out to lick her lips a second before they kiss, each time, and maybe once, just a little, she briefly touched hers with her own. And maybe a moan reverberated against teeth and tongue and lips and maybe it was Kat doing this, not Emily.
These are the things Lily tells herself before bed, guilt hanging too heavy for a searching hand to go between her thighs. There are rules, and wanking off imagining it's your (most-likely) straight costar would be breaking at least a few of them.
(This guilt will stay with her for longer than she cares for. Interviews and PR and compliments to her acting, and she squirms in her seat. It isn't modesty - like it should be - but discomfort. When she deters compliments, it's simply because they're unfounded. But it's not like she can say that.
It'll never be so uncomplicated for Lily to be able to say to the interviewer: it was quite easy kissing Kathryn. The hard part was stopping.
If only.)
There's a scar on the knuckle of Lily's index finger that Kat takes to tracing idly whenever they're pissed and in the backseat of a cab. Not really a war wound, but it curves like the moon and it leaves Kathryn curious as to where she got it.
There's a night of particular debauchery involving nothing short of Meg and Kaya making out in the far corner and Jack looking on jealously, all to the time of trash music that even after dropping E doesn't get your blood flowing quite right. And, as always, Lily and Kat end up sharing a lift, only without the expected company of Meg, who'd disappeared halfway through evening, along with Kaya, and this wasn't the least bit suspicious to anyone with a pair of eyes, not at all.
Kat's head rests perfectly on the crook of Lily's shoulder, and she can feel the warmth of the girl's cheek against the top of her head while her finger traces the scarred knuckle.
"Lils..."
"Kitty-Kat..." She says back in perfect imitation of Kat's tone. She snorts, laughs and Kat smells rum.
They're outside the hotel, driver turning in his seat expectantly, just short of holding his hand out for the fare. Kat pushes away from the seat, from Lily, to fumble around in her purse until her fingers catch sloppy on a few pounds, which she practically throws at the driver when Lily yanks her out of the car suddenly. She half-tries for an apology thrown over her shoulder to the driver, but Lily's got quite a grip and it takes her a second to realize how fucking freezing it is outside, and the way Lily's hand, up to her knuckles (scarred and un-scarred) go stark white around Kat's wrist, and this is just preservation, since it's about ten below and their breath is as thick as smoke in front of them.
They push through the spinning doors and are blanketed with heat, the lobby bright, too bright. Lily lets go of Kat's hand.
Just preservation, you see.
She walks off, fumbling around for her room key, only stopping when she nearly runs into closed elevator doors. She leans against the reflective metal, and looks at Kat through the mirror image. There's a smile there, a tilt of the head. "Fucking off, or what?"
(Okay, so something actually does happen at the clubs. Once.)
Kat's hands are on either side of Lily's face and she's kissing her, sloppy and tender at the same time. Lily's bottom lip catches between Kat's teeth and she moans, and Kat presses her hips forward until, finally, Lily breaks the kiss, puts space between them.
"We're both pissed now, Kat. Easy now..." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, regrets it immediately, suddenly aware of the lack of Kat on her lips. Disappointment sits heavy in the pit of her stomach.
"I'm n - " Kat's brow furrows and her eyes shift down, away. "You're drunk?"
"Yeah," Lily can't help but laugh because, really, it's obvious now, isn't it? "The whole point, being a bar and all..."
"I didn't - " There's a kink in Kat's jaw when it firms, a line there more pronounced, and her nostrils flare, and it's quite endearing. Lily lightly taps the tip of her button nose, smirking when Kat pushes her hand away.
"You're quite twee."
"And you're proper pissed." Kat runs a hand over her face.
Finally, Lily gets it. "You're not?"
Kat shakes her head. "No."
"But - " Even without the alcohol, the confusion is suffocating. "How are you not...?"
"Didn't want to be. Figured I'd be in my right mind for once, have a bit of fun like that, try it out." She finally looks back at Lily, but only for the briefest moment.
"So, you're...you're sober." The pieces fall together, slowly. "You're sober and you're kissing me."
"Sounds about right, fucked as it is."
"You're sober and I'm not and you're kissing me and you're sober and I'm...I'm not." Lily swallows, suddenly regretting the last five or so shots. "And you kissed me."
"It's fucking nothing. Don't have to be drunk to get caught up, do I? Lots of sober fucks out there who do stupid shit. Me, I'm just joining the ranks."
"Is there...is there a bloke here? Or a lass, who...?" Lily's throat tightens, and she can feel her stomach turning. When she continues, there's a little more emotion in her voice than she really cares there to be. "Are you just trying to have fun or what?"
"No." Kat swallows and it's audible, the thumping of the music blurring into the background and nothing left but them in the bathroom, water dripping from faucets and lewd graffitti on the walls. She doesn't say anything for the longest time.
Lily reaches out and takes her hand. "Come back to the hotel with me."
"You're drunk, I'm not gonna - "
"I didn't mean it like that, promise." Lily gives her hand a squeeze. "Just come back to the hotel with me, alright?"
At the hotel, on Lily's bed, Lily has an arm wrapped around Kat's waist and she's looking at her with unfocused eyes, smiling wistfully, surring: "Can't we just be friends?"
"Of course," Kat says, because what else is there, right?
"Things are just...simple, like this. I like simple."
"I like simple, too."
"Simple's good." Lily's eyes fall shut, breathing slowing as slumber starts to take over. "You're good. Don't wanna lose..."
She never finishes, the end of her sentence instead punctuated by a resounding snore into her pillow.
Kat wakes up to find Lily spooning her. The morning light is harsh, unforgiving, but the curtains are too far out of reach to yank away brightness, so she sees fit to roll onto her opposite side, away from it, Lily's wrist limply following, one hip to the other, without her waking.
Her bottom lip sticks out prominantly in a way Kat's sure it often doesn't, and the contrast of her lashes against the paleness of her skin, along with the morning light putting her in a glowy sort of state, and these are things that Kat counts like numbers, scribbles mental notes to herself and files away to remember later.
Lily's fingers twitch in sleep, her nails doing brief sprints across Kat's hip, the cotton of her shirt bunched and wrinkled and pushed out of the way. Kat catches herself smiling at the movement, her own fingers reaching out, daring, letting blonde sort of curl around her. There's the distant sound of a car starting down the road, and front doors opening, the world waking up and getting on. It doesn't stir her out of bed anymore than it normally would, especially so with present company.
There's a hum behind Lily's lips, tuneless and groggy, and her eyelashes start to flutter. She doesn't wake, and Kat finds that she'd been holding her breath waiting for it, quite ridiculous as it is.
She can hear the maid cart being pushed down hall, still a few doors away, and looks back over her shoulder to see the DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging on the wrong side of the door.
"Fuck me," she swears, being careful to pull the sheets off of herself without disturbing Lily. When she swings her legs over the side of the bed, she can feel Lily stir in her sleep, hear her mumble nonsensically, "In a minute."
Kat stifles a laugh and skits on over to the door, opening it and putting the sign on the outside and closing it in one swift motion. Click, and she retraces her steps back to the bed. Only when her knee sinks into the mattress and it groans under the new weight, Lily's eyes flutter open and she clears her throat suddenly, instinctively. She looks around for a moment, dazed, but then her eyes land on Kat and she relaxes, head falling back into her pillow.
"Fuck's sake, Kathryn, it's early."
"Fuck's sake, Lily," Kat shoots back in a teasing tone, grinning when Lily aimlessly throws a pillow at her. "Sun's up, so I guarantee we're both in for a word whenever we manage to get to set."
"Shit." Last week of filming, for them. There's the finale after, but they're not in it, so this'll be the end of the road until next year. They get out of bed, get dressed, all in a right amount of silence that probably means something, carries more weight than either is willing to admit to. They share a cab to set. The silence follows them.
Lily's thankful for Naomi, you know.
Without her, she wouldn't be able to press Kathryn against the lockers, hard, practically moan I can't stand it and kiss her, kiss her like she's never gonna get to again.
Without Naomi, she wouldn't be able to do this, over and over again. Rehearsals, in sweats; shooting, fifteen takes at least. Kathryn laughs and sometimes Lily does too. She flubs it on occasion, forgets the line completely and just fucking attacks Kat with her mouth. She laughs then, too, mumbling a sorry when she starts to see bruises on her lips.
"It's okay," Kat'll say back, a little breathless.
They don't really talk after it wraps up. There's texting, certainly, and a few attempted calls that never cross paths, but it's a long time that Kat goes without hearing Lily's voice, and it's sort of stupid, that ache that won't go away.
She hates it, starts to hate Lily for making her miss her. But mostly, she just fucking misses her.
It should probably be acknowledged how self-involved this potentially is. Because, honestly, even Lily knows that it's a bit much to host a party for the airing of one's own episode. But she does, and she'll look back and think: when was it ever a good idea?
It sounds stupid, and maybe it's a lie, or maybe she's just that good at suppressing things, but she forgot a bit of the details. She remembers the rain and leaves and the blanket against her bare thighs, and the way Kathryn's tongue darted out just before their lips met. But the dots, they don't necessarily connect. So, she hosts a party, and all of her good friends and even some family (but thank god, not her dad) get to see her fucking Kathryn.
Because it isn't Emily, it isn't Naomi, that they see. They see the girl that had been attached to Lily's arm during filming, the intimate touches shared between them passing under the radar until the episode airs and suddenly the pieces fall together, the puzzle completed, and they get it.
And she feels it, the moment when everything clicks and everyone takes turns passing sidelong glances at her. They make jokes, laugh it up, and there's more alcohol for distraction, but there's still the shift, inevitable. They can see through the facade of acting and know it's something more. A cynical generation won't lean towards love, but sex and fucking and fingering in record booths are certainly on the list of possibilities.
Fuck, of inevitabilities.
Impulsively, she gets on her dad's bike one morning and rides off across town. She doesn't even try to kid herself as to where she's going.
Eventually, inevitably, she sits on her bike at the end of the driveway, looking at the PRESCOTT emblazened on the mailbox and up at the bedroom window that might be Kathryn's and the afternoon sun is shining down, hot, on the back of her neck.
Still, she finds herself shivering.
"Fuck's sake." She turns and she pedals away.
There are interviews, little bits put on the telly, premieres they're contractually obligated to attend. They blur together as one, really, questions starting to repeat and fade, answers automatic, memorized.
She doesn't remember much of them, really. All she cares to hold onto is the way Lily's hand rests on her thigh under the table, or at the small of her back down the red carpet of whatever movie's premiere. There's the way her lips touched the curve of her ear when she whispered something sarcastic or ridiculous, trying to lighten the mood, keep boredom at bay.
She remembers Lily telling her, emotion thick in her voice despite the bright smile: I missed you.
"I missed you, too," she remembers saying, immediately, words catching in her throat.
She remembers the roll of Lily's eyes, the nudge of her elbow. "Don't get all sentimental on me now, Prescott."
Filming starts up again. They get on with it.
In the grand scheme of things, she knows that this is all incredibly tiny, and incredibly inconsequential to the rest of the world. She knows this. Words like celebrity and fame don't really apply here, as it's like big fish, little pond, right? There's a little box they fit into, and only temporarily, and by tomorrow, it'll be tipped over and they'll be rid of. Simple as that, and she's alright with this.
Life moves on and people go in different directions, and names carry a memory that's as distant as it is perhaps fond, instead of any reaction that holds currency in the present.
The worst part, though, is that this so-called grand scheme of things has a distinct lack of boundaries. The show opens doors and introduces new faces, but there's an unspoken path they're guided along, a yellow brick road into yonder. And that's alright, as it's going on, but once those walls go down, it's more than a little frightening.
Because going from being secretly in love with your costar and having no choice, really, on what to do about it, to being given your freedom back to pursue whatever you like is, well...it's quite terrifying.
Really, it scares the shit out of her.
So when Kat says, head resting in her lap and staring at a pencil stuck in the dressing room ceiling, "I don't want this to end" there's a catch in Lily's throat before she even responds.
"Neither do I." And it's the truth, but she doesn't mean it like Kat does. She doesn't tell her this, either.
(It ends, of course. They could never kid themselves out of that.)
There's a shoot, a bit later, just the two of them. Lily's hair's too big - a bird's nest, it is - but Kat looks gorgeous, and this is the only thing Lily cares to focus on, the only thing that really gets her through it.
She sits against the wall, sunk to the floor, legs resting up on the foot of the bed where Kat sits, just a few inches away. (Maybe Lily focuses on this, too, a little bit.)
Nice hair, Kat mouths at her, hairdresser with her back turned, and Lily snorts, which doesn't please the makeup girl much. Lily flips Kat the bird.
"Love you, too, Lils." (She doesn't focus on this; she makes sure she doesn't.)
"Think you're s'posed to be looking at the camera, Loveless."
The sound of the camera clicking away is suddenly quite audible, and Kat isn't looking at Lily but Lily's certainly looking at her and she starts to apologize, not really meaning it.
The photographer waves a hand. "No, it's good. I'm getting good shots here."
Kat's arm tucked under Lily's, palm along the bare curve of her shoulder, and maybe her fingers press a little harder into the skin there. Maybe, for the briefest moment, the corner of Kat's mouth curls up, sneaky and just the slightest bit devilsih.
Maybe Lily stops breathing for a minute there, too.
Afterwards, all the shots laid out before them, Kat's back in her civvies and leaning against Lily's back to get a closer look. At the pictures that is.
And, see, Lily's eyes immediately find the shot. That moment, captured in film, immortalized or some other poetic nonsense, and she'd smile if she wasn't left a bit breathless at the sight. She can feel Kat still beside her, hand resting idly on Lily's arm, and when Lily glances at her, she's sure she can see where her eyes have landed as well.
The smile is slow, but full, and she looks at Lily and Lily's sure she's looking into rapture.
"Looks quite alright, doesn't it?" Her hand still rests on Lily's arm.
Lily can barely manage a nod. "Quite alright, yeah."
They go out the back way, into a narrow alley where the sun's shining on puddles and a graffiti'd dumpster, ideal for sharing a fag before making a quick run to the tube.
Lily fumbles a bit with the pack, maybe because of the cold biting at her fingers but mostly because she can feel Kat's eyes on her, and because she keeps remembering the photo (this is the money shot right here, this'll be our cover, I guarantee you, the photographer had said) and it's all a bit much, but she finally snags one out and holds it for Kat to take. She doesn't, and Lily looks up, brow furrowing. "Wha - ?"
Kat opens her mouth to say something. Closes it. Then, before Lily can even think to gasp in surprise, she pushes her hand away - the fag falling to the ground unlit - and she shoves Lily against the brick wall and she kisses her.
The clouds part and light breaks through. Tears sparkle down Lily's cheek.
"This isn't - " she starts. She chokes on the words, has to stop and catch her breath.
She never finishes. Kathryn steps forward, on the tips of her toes, and kisses her. Against lips, amongst warm gasps, she practically growls. "Fucking complicate everything, you do..."
Premiere night. They sneak out the back door for a smoke. They stand in comfortable silence for a long while, not caring if anybody ever notices they're gone.
Finally -
"I quite like you." The fag falls to the ground, goes out under Kat's heel. "You know?"
A smile starts, but doesn't quite make it. They stare at each other for a long moment before Lily snorts, shaking her head. "I quite like you, too, Kathryn."
Kat smirks. "Wasn't hard now, was it?"