"Christmas Will Wear You Down"
Merry Christmas to the lovely and talented thecon12
She asked for a Naomi and Effy friendship fic. In which they realize that their families are deficient in Christmas cheer, so they spend the day together.
ETA: Eff me, I forgot to say thank you to the ladies who gave this a once over when it was in draft state; blurubberband55 and triptohere.
Reluctantly, Naomi rings Effy on the 23rd of December; it's taken her that long to truly realize how shit her Christmas is going to be.
Effy answers the phone through a pulse of blisteringly loud music, turning it down just enough so that Naomi can hear her greet flatly, "Hey."
Always slightly uncomfortable on the phone, when awkward silences grow infinitely more awkward, Naomi questions simply, "Are you and Tony still going to your dad's for Christmas?"
Effy doesn't respond immediately; the silence long enough that Naomi begins to think that trying to have a conversation on the phone with Effy is completely pointless.
"Christmas is cancelled," Effy finally offers, in the bored way that she has, meant to convey utter disinterest. It's difficult for Naomi to contain a sigh, because sometimes Effy is the picture of petulance.
Ignoring Effy's sullenness, Naomi commiserates darkly, "The outlook is rather bleak for me, as well. I've been banned from the Fitch festivities and Emily's been forbidden to leave the bloody house."
Effy says, "What about your mum, then?"
Snorting without much real humor, Naomi says, "She's hosting a vegan feast for homeless women. Or single mothers. Orphans- dunno know, really. But I'd rather spend Christmas with Panda's mum than be here."
Effy makes a noncommittal noise, something that might be a chuckle in someone with marginally better humor, and measures it out for them, saying slowly, "You and me, then. Christmas."
It sounds like hesitation, and Naomi realizes she's actually going to be disappointed if Effy refuses, so she prods, "We shouldn't let terrible parenting keep us from enjoying the holiday."
*
Effy is tucked into a corner booth when Naomi staggers into the pub, carrying a tupperware container in her red, wind-chapped hands, her teeth clicking to a spastic crescendo.
Effy has a pint of lager set out for her on the table and Naomi would be rather impressed that she's staved off any number of the eager looking lads at the bar, but the compliment dies on her tongue when Effy manages to be thoroughly unhelpful as Naomi sets down her things.
"Happy Christmas," Effy salutes drolly.
Sitting down in a heap, Naomi mutters somewhat crossly, "Mum turned the house into a biblical inn. I've got a fucking goat in my shower. I had to climb out the bloody window."
Effy tilts her chin up, considering Naomi for a moment before she responds vaguely, "Like Santa Claus."
Naomi takes a bracing sip of lager, her brows knitting together when she says, "He goes up and down chimneys, Eff."
Effy murmurs seriously, "Not really," as her smoky-edged eyes fall on the largest of Naomi's parcels. She eyes it almost suspiciously, as though it might be surplus tofurkey from Gina's kitchen.
"What's this," she finally questions, with a flick of her eyes back to Naomi's face.
Glancing at the package, a grimace helplessly settling onto her face, Naomi says dryly, "Emily made us cake."
Effy looks back at the Tupperware between them knowingly, saying, "She felt sorry for us."
Peering around the pub, with its motley assortment of single blokes and middle aged divorcees, Naomi mutters wryly, "I can't imagine why."
*
It's Emily's bad luck that she calls when the pub gets unexpectedly rowdy and Naomi's dashed off to the loo.
Effy answers the phone at her friendliest, drawling slowly, "Emily, hello."
On the other end of the line, Emily plugs up her ear and kicks the door shut in James's weasely face, demanding through her confusion, "Naomi? I can barely hear you!"
Effy holds the phone away from her ear, murmuring, "It's Effy."
Understanding dawns in Emily's voice and in a cheerful, though surprised manner, she greets, "Happy Christmas, Eff."
Effy sees Naomi gesturing dramatically to another girl in the winding queue outside the toilets and says, "And to you. Want Naomi to ring you back?"
Whether Emily does want, Effy doesn't hear because a ruddy-faced man in a national team pullover is howling his way through a Christmas song that Effy couldn't identify if her life depended on it.
*
Emily asks sometimes, what exactly Effy and Naomi do when they hang out together. Naomi usually rolls her eyes and replies caustically, carrying on about makeovers or something, until one time, Emily persists.
"Seriously, babe. You're not exactly chatty and nor is she. Do you just sit there together? Watch telly and drink vodka?"
Naomi can't remember what she told Emily at the time, but the truth is, when they are together, she and Effy don't particularly need to speak to understand one another. Passing spliff is universal, and they're extraordinarily perceptive toward each other, considering how little they actually talk.
Still, two hours after leaving the pub, they're sprawled across a sofa and Effy's saying sagely, "Maybe next year."
Curling her fingers around the neck of the bottle of Stoli that Effy presented to her an hour earlier, Naomi mutters, "Fucking hell. It's not like I'm full of cheer, myself. Or like, madly into caroling."
Effy scrunches her eyebrows together and says, "No."
Flapping her hand about, Naomi continues, "I wasn't dying to spend the holiday with her mum, either, but it was important to Emily."
"Important to Emily," Naomi echoes, like she's hit on something revealing. Naomi's too drunk to accept Effy's veiled yet accurate observation, so she takes another hit off the joint.
"Let the old cow have her very Fitchy Christmas or whatever. Emily will still be gay on Boxing Day," Naomi declares.
Taking a fortifying sip of the vodka, Naomi lifts an eyebrow and says provocatively, "We're talking, very gay."
Effy watches Naomi with a cheshire grin, intoning archly, "Mm. And you?"
Confused, Naomi says, "Me what?"
"Are you sorted," Effy clarifies. "No more lads ever again?"
"Dunno," Naomi murmurs thoughtfully. "Cock isn't everything, Eff."
She asked for a Naomi and Effy friendship fic. In which they realize that their families are deficient in Christmas cheer, so they spend the day together.
ETA: Eff me, I forgot to say thank you to the ladies who gave this a once over when it was in draft state; blurubberband55 and triptohere.
Reluctantly, Naomi rings Effy on the 23rd of December; it's taken her that long to truly realize how shit her Christmas is going to be.
Effy answers the phone through a pulse of blisteringly loud music, turning it down just enough so that Naomi can hear her greet flatly, "Hey."
Always slightly uncomfortable on the phone, when awkward silences grow infinitely more awkward, Naomi questions simply, "Are you and Tony still going to your dad's for Christmas?"
Effy doesn't respond immediately; the silence long enough that Naomi begins to think that trying to have a conversation on the phone with Effy is completely pointless.
"Christmas is cancelled," Effy finally offers, in the bored way that she has, meant to convey utter disinterest. It's difficult for Naomi to contain a sigh, because sometimes Effy is the picture of petulance.
Ignoring Effy's sullenness, Naomi commiserates darkly, "The outlook is rather bleak for me, as well. I've been banned from the Fitch festivities and Emily's been forbidden to leave the bloody house."
Effy says, "What about your mum, then?"
Snorting without much real humor, Naomi says, "She's hosting a vegan feast for homeless women. Or single mothers. Orphans- dunno know, really. But I'd rather spend Christmas with Panda's mum than be here."
Effy makes a noncommittal noise, something that might be a chuckle in someone with marginally better humor, and measures it out for them, saying slowly, "You and me, then. Christmas."
It sounds like hesitation, and Naomi realizes she's actually going to be disappointed if Effy refuses, so she prods, "We shouldn't let terrible parenting keep us from enjoying the holiday."
*
Effy is tucked into a corner booth when Naomi staggers into the pub, carrying a tupperware container in her red, wind-chapped hands, her teeth clicking to a spastic crescendo.
Effy has a pint of lager set out for her on the table and Naomi would be rather impressed that she's staved off any number of the eager looking lads at the bar, but the compliment dies on her tongue when Effy manages to be thoroughly unhelpful as Naomi sets down her things.
"Happy Christmas," Effy salutes drolly.
Sitting down in a heap, Naomi mutters somewhat crossly, "Mum turned the house into a biblical inn. I've got a fucking goat in my shower. I had to climb out the bloody window."
Effy tilts her chin up, considering Naomi for a moment before she responds vaguely, "Like Santa Claus."
Naomi takes a bracing sip of lager, her brows knitting together when she says, "He goes up and down chimneys, Eff."
Effy murmurs seriously, "Not really," as her smoky-edged eyes fall on the largest of Naomi's parcels. She eyes it almost suspiciously, as though it might be surplus tofurkey from Gina's kitchen.
"What's this," she finally questions, with a flick of her eyes back to Naomi's face.
Glancing at the package, a grimace helplessly settling onto her face, Naomi says dryly, "Emily made us cake."
Effy looks back at the Tupperware between them knowingly, saying, "She felt sorry for us."
Peering around the pub, with its motley assortment of single blokes and middle aged divorcees, Naomi mutters wryly, "I can't imagine why."
*
It's Emily's bad luck that she calls when the pub gets unexpectedly rowdy and Naomi's dashed off to the loo.
Effy answers the phone at her friendliest, drawling slowly, "Emily, hello."
On the other end of the line, Emily plugs up her ear and kicks the door shut in James's weasely face, demanding through her confusion, "Naomi? I can barely hear you!"
Effy holds the phone away from her ear, murmuring, "It's Effy."
Understanding dawns in Emily's voice and in a cheerful, though surprised manner, she greets, "Happy Christmas, Eff."
Effy sees Naomi gesturing dramatically to another girl in the winding queue outside the toilets and says, "And to you. Want Naomi to ring you back?"
Whether Emily does want, Effy doesn't hear because a ruddy-faced man in a national team pullover is howling his way through a Christmas song that Effy couldn't identify if her life depended on it.
*
Emily asks sometimes, what exactly Effy and Naomi do when they hang out together. Naomi usually rolls her eyes and replies caustically, carrying on about makeovers or something, until one time, Emily persists.
"Seriously, babe. You're not exactly chatty and nor is she. Do you just sit there together? Watch telly and drink vodka?"
Naomi can't remember what she told Emily at the time, but the truth is, when they are together, she and Effy don't particularly need to speak to understand one another. Passing spliff is universal, and they're extraordinarily perceptive toward each other, considering how little they actually talk.
Still, two hours after leaving the pub, they're sprawled across a sofa and Effy's saying sagely, "Maybe next year."
Curling her fingers around the neck of the bottle of Stoli that Effy presented to her an hour earlier, Naomi mutters, "Fucking hell. It's not like I'm full of cheer, myself. Or like, madly into caroling."
Effy scrunches her eyebrows together and says, "No."
Flapping her hand about, Naomi continues, "I wasn't dying to spend the holiday with her mum, either, but it was important to Emily."
"Important to Emily," Naomi echoes, like she's hit on something revealing. Naomi's too drunk to accept Effy's veiled yet accurate observation, so she takes another hit off the joint.
"Let the old cow have her very Fitchy Christmas or whatever. Emily will still be gay on Boxing Day," Naomi declares.
Taking a fortifying sip of the vodka, Naomi lifts an eyebrow and says provocatively, "We're talking, very gay."
Effy watches Naomi with a cheshire grin, intoning archly, "Mm. And you?"
Confused, Naomi says, "Me what?"
"Are you sorted," Effy clarifies. "No more lads ever again?"
"Dunno," Naomi murmurs thoughtfully. "Cock isn't everything, Eff."