Fic: Skins/OC Crossover!
Title: Rebel Girl
Fandom: Skins/The O.C.
Pairing: Kaitlin Cooper/Effy Stonem
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200
Warning: Mild drug use
Summary: Kaitlin runs away and ends up in Bristol.
A/N: This is ridiculously self-indulgent and it was born out of a comment I saw, which pointed out that the two actresses look alike. Yes, I thought, they really do. What is more, the parallels between their characters are pretty extensive: troubled younger siblings, overshadowed by troubled older siblings, which die/almost die/leave; messed up parents etc. Had the OC been English, Kaitlin would have been Effy. Anyway, this is a Kaitlin that doesn’t deal with everything as well as canon likes us to believe.
~
Leaving is easy enough; she doesn’t look back; she can’t - the sun is low, reflecting orange light onto backyard swimming pools and through the back window of her cab and it blinds her.
Leaving is easy, when she takes only one bag and her dad’s boat may not be as far as England, but she is half way across the Atlantic by the time Julie finds out.
She spends a week in London; stays in a dingy backpacker hostel; dances all night and drinks too much and never takes off her eyeliner. She doesn’t feel any less empty, but she doesn’t need to lie about her life, because nobody asks, and if she wants to, she can feed ducks in St James’s park until she runs out of stale bread. She doesn’t feel any less empty, but sometimes she laughs and perhaps that’s enough.
It is raining when she gets to Paddington and onto the next train to somewhere. It seems fitting to get off when the rain stops, even if it is before the destination written on her ticket.
Bristol is different to London - people ask her more questions here - but the hostel has clean sheets and the clubs are just as inviting.
The wall is rough against the thin cotton of her tank and the cigarette burns her fingers. Kaitlin mutters a curse, mostly to herself.
The resounding laughter is unexpected. She looks up and in the shadows - backlit by the neon club lights - it is like looking into a mirror.
The girl’s eyes are reflecting light and her hair is a tangled mess. She steps closer and exhales.
“Do you want something stronger?” The prickly-sweet smell of smoke is clear now and Kaitlin breathes in deeply. Their eyes meet and Kaitlin nods.
“I’m Effy,” the girl says after a beat and for an absurd moment Kaitlin thinks that they are going to shake hands. They don’t. Effy holds the joint between thumb and forefinger, fingernails bitten and painted black. Kaitlin takes a deep drag and sighs.
They sit on the ground, close enough for the occasional whisper of a touch between hands or shoulders, and smoke in silence - more comfortable than not - while Kaitlin steals glimpses of her companion; ones which lengthen as the joint diminishes.
Heavy boots, torn fishnets, a dress that is more of a shirt, a bunch of necklaces, too much eyeliner; there is nothing particularly unusual about the girl’s, Effy’s, appearance -- and yet, Kaitlin can't look away.
“I’m Kaitlin,” she says when the silence grows too loud and the joint is long gone. Everything feels sharper, but when Effy laughs it is completely unlike the sound of bells and Kaitlin wonders what it would taste like.
She acts, because there is no reason not to. It is a soft kiss and one lasting mere seconds; she’s never done this before just for herself and it scares her. When she pulls back Effy is watching her.
“Let’s dance.” Effy slides up the wall and offers her a hand. Kaitlin takes it without hesitation. Effy's fingers are cold and dig into her, but she lets herself be dragged back inside. The noise and light feel like an assault on her senses and she closes her eyes; lets go for a moment.
When she opens them, Effy is swallowed up by the masses and Kaitlin no longer feels like dancing. She goes back to the hostel alone.
The next morning is a sunny one, the first truly blue sky of her visit and she gets breakfast at the little café near her hostel. People-watching gets old quickly, but she has no real plans for the day, the sun is warm on her back and the guy behind the counter gives her free pastries.
Effy walks past without a glance at her direction and Kaitlin calls out her name, before she can think better of it.
She is wearing no make up but her tights are even more torn, and when she looks back, her lips turn up and in daylight her eyes are intensely blue.
“Are you lost?” Effy says by way of greeting.
“Isn’t everyone?” Kaitlin shrugs.
“True.” Effy sits in the chair opposite her and orders a latte.
Effy doesn’t talk very much and Kaitlin talks too much. She speaks of Marissa and the accident and her father leaving and her mother’s marriages and Johnny falling; how she had to get away for a while.
Effy doesn’t interrupt.
“My brother was hit by a bus, but he is alive. I am sorry,” is all she says and it is right after Kaitlin has said so many words, she has none left.
There is a party that night, one which Effy invites her to and Kaitlin meets some of her friends - a bunch of people that share little and yet seem to stick together, Kaitlin can’t figure out why. The pretty boy with the guilty eyes, the one with the bruised knuckles and the skin deep laugh; there is a tetchiness around them, a certain awkwardness. It is especially prominent around the boy with the curly hair, the one that doesn’t once look her in the eye.
Effy seems hesitant at first, but over lunch the next day she finally talks about the fucked up love triangle, square even.
“We are all friends now. It’s nice.” She shrugs and Kaitlin wants to hug her, because she understands, but the way Effy holds herself - shoulders squared, eyes hard - warns her off and she folds her hands into her lap instead.
They have known each other for just over a week, and yet there has been no repeat, not even a mention, of that first kiss.
She is beginning to doubt it even happened, when it happens again.
It is Effy, this time, that initiates it. They are dancing together, bodies too close, and the music is loud in Kaitlin’s throat. Her thoughts are a jumble and the psychedelic flashing of the club lights make her close her eyes.
The lips that brush hers are so tentative, Kaitlin thinks it’s accidental.
It is not.
The club bathroom stall has a broken lock, but when Effy presses her against the door with intent - hard enough to leave bruises - Kaitlin is not afraid of discovery; is not afraid of anything.
The smile on Effy’s face is lightning-fast and just as sharp, Kaitlin thinks, before the kiss comes and everything stops for a moment, which feels as long as time itself.
Every sensation is both intense and fleeting. Later she remembers colours - the curtain of dark hair like a halo around Effy’s face and the white of her eyes. Wide and open.
Seeing helps me feel. I need to feel something.
She remembers sounds - a jumble of words tattooed across her skin, their meaning lost, but the need as clear as ice; the loudness of their mingled breaths.
The images are the least clear, broken and too-bright, like a series of photographs from an overly exposed film - Effy’s head thrown back, mouth open and throat exposed, frozen and silent for all eternity, the silky-smoothness of her thighs, the feel of blunt nails and long fingers - puzzle pieces that would form something perfect if only they could fit together.
The next morning there is a storm. Kaitlin wakes up because lightning falls nearby and the thunder is deafening. It seems a fitting time to leave - she is running out of money and she starts at Berkeley in less than two weeks.
She doesn’t say goodbye. There is always Facebook.
Fandom: Skins/The O.C.
Pairing: Kaitlin Cooper/Effy Stonem
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200
Warning: Mild drug use
Summary: Kaitlin runs away and ends up in Bristol.
A/N: This is ridiculously self-indulgent and it was born out of a comment I saw, which pointed out that the two actresses look alike. Yes, I thought, they really do. What is more, the parallels between their characters are pretty extensive: troubled younger siblings, overshadowed by troubled older siblings, which die/almost die/leave; messed up parents etc. Had the OC been English, Kaitlin would have been Effy. Anyway, this is a Kaitlin that doesn’t deal with everything as well as canon likes us to believe.
~
Leaving is easy enough; she doesn’t look back; she can’t - the sun is low, reflecting orange light onto backyard swimming pools and through the back window of her cab and it blinds her.
Leaving is easy, when she takes only one bag and her dad’s boat may not be as far as England, but she is half way across the Atlantic by the time Julie finds out.
She spends a week in London; stays in a dingy backpacker hostel; dances all night and drinks too much and never takes off her eyeliner. She doesn’t feel any less empty, but she doesn’t need to lie about her life, because nobody asks, and if she wants to, she can feed ducks in St James’s park until she runs out of stale bread. She doesn’t feel any less empty, but sometimes she laughs and perhaps that’s enough.
It is raining when she gets to Paddington and onto the next train to somewhere. It seems fitting to get off when the rain stops, even if it is before the destination written on her ticket.
Bristol is different to London - people ask her more questions here - but the hostel has clean sheets and the clubs are just as inviting.
The wall is rough against the thin cotton of her tank and the cigarette burns her fingers. Kaitlin mutters a curse, mostly to herself.
The resounding laughter is unexpected. She looks up and in the shadows - backlit by the neon club lights - it is like looking into a mirror.
The girl’s eyes are reflecting light and her hair is a tangled mess. She steps closer and exhales.
“Do you want something stronger?” The prickly-sweet smell of smoke is clear now and Kaitlin breathes in deeply. Their eyes meet and Kaitlin nods.
“I’m Effy,” the girl says after a beat and for an absurd moment Kaitlin thinks that they are going to shake hands. They don’t. Effy holds the joint between thumb and forefinger, fingernails bitten and painted black. Kaitlin takes a deep drag and sighs.
They sit on the ground, close enough for the occasional whisper of a touch between hands or shoulders, and smoke in silence - more comfortable than not - while Kaitlin steals glimpses of her companion; ones which lengthen as the joint diminishes.
Heavy boots, torn fishnets, a dress that is more of a shirt, a bunch of necklaces, too much eyeliner; there is nothing particularly unusual about the girl’s, Effy’s, appearance -- and yet, Kaitlin can't look away.
“I’m Kaitlin,” she says when the silence grows too loud and the joint is long gone. Everything feels sharper, but when Effy laughs it is completely unlike the sound of bells and Kaitlin wonders what it would taste like.
She acts, because there is no reason not to. It is a soft kiss and one lasting mere seconds; she’s never done this before just for herself and it scares her. When she pulls back Effy is watching her.
“Let’s dance.” Effy slides up the wall and offers her a hand. Kaitlin takes it without hesitation. Effy's fingers are cold and dig into her, but she lets herself be dragged back inside. The noise and light feel like an assault on her senses and she closes her eyes; lets go for a moment.
When she opens them, Effy is swallowed up by the masses and Kaitlin no longer feels like dancing. She goes back to the hostel alone.
The next morning is a sunny one, the first truly blue sky of her visit and she gets breakfast at the little café near her hostel. People-watching gets old quickly, but she has no real plans for the day, the sun is warm on her back and the guy behind the counter gives her free pastries.
Effy walks past without a glance at her direction and Kaitlin calls out her name, before she can think better of it.
She is wearing no make up but her tights are even more torn, and when she looks back, her lips turn up and in daylight her eyes are intensely blue.
“Are you lost?” Effy says by way of greeting.
“Isn’t everyone?” Kaitlin shrugs.
“True.” Effy sits in the chair opposite her and orders a latte.
Effy doesn’t talk very much and Kaitlin talks too much. She speaks of Marissa and the accident and her father leaving and her mother’s marriages and Johnny falling; how she had to get away for a while.
Effy doesn’t interrupt.
“My brother was hit by a bus, but he is alive. I am sorry,” is all she says and it is right after Kaitlin has said so many words, she has none left.
There is a party that night, one which Effy invites her to and Kaitlin meets some of her friends - a bunch of people that share little and yet seem to stick together, Kaitlin can’t figure out why. The pretty boy with the guilty eyes, the one with the bruised knuckles and the skin deep laugh; there is a tetchiness around them, a certain awkwardness. It is especially prominent around the boy with the curly hair, the one that doesn’t once look her in the eye.
Effy seems hesitant at first, but over lunch the next day she finally talks about the fucked up love triangle, square even.
“We are all friends now. It’s nice.” She shrugs and Kaitlin wants to hug her, because she understands, but the way Effy holds herself - shoulders squared, eyes hard - warns her off and she folds her hands into her lap instead.
They have known each other for just over a week, and yet there has been no repeat, not even a mention, of that first kiss.
She is beginning to doubt it even happened, when it happens again.
It is Effy, this time, that initiates it. They are dancing together, bodies too close, and the music is loud in Kaitlin’s throat. Her thoughts are a jumble and the psychedelic flashing of the club lights make her close her eyes.
The lips that brush hers are so tentative, Kaitlin thinks it’s accidental.
It is not.
The club bathroom stall has a broken lock, but when Effy presses her against the door with intent - hard enough to leave bruises - Kaitlin is not afraid of discovery; is not afraid of anything.
The smile on Effy’s face is lightning-fast and just as sharp, Kaitlin thinks, before the kiss comes and everything stops for a moment, which feels as long as time itself.
Every sensation is both intense and fleeting. Later she remembers colours - the curtain of dark hair like a halo around Effy’s face and the white of her eyes. Wide and open.
Seeing helps me feel. I need to feel something.
She remembers sounds - a jumble of words tattooed across her skin, their meaning lost, but the need as clear as ice; the loudness of their mingled breaths.
The images are the least clear, broken and too-bright, like a series of photographs from an overly exposed film - Effy’s head thrown back, mouth open and throat exposed, frozen and silent for all eternity, the silky-smoothness of her thighs, the feel of blunt nails and long fingers - puzzle pieces that would form something perfect if only they could fit together.
The next morning there is a storm. Kaitlin wakes up because lightning falls nearby and the thunder is deafening. It seems a fitting time to leave - she is running out of money and she starts at Berkeley in less than two weeks.
She doesn’t say goodbye. There is always Facebook.