it's deja vu all over again
I know, I know. I'll work on it.
Title: I Bet No One Knew [so far, it's a one-shot]
Fandom/Pairing: Skins RPF; Lily/Kat
Author: yesssirrr
Rating: PG-13 and up, probably.
Warning: None that I know of.
Summary: What is she going to do about it now?
Disclaimer: They're not really the people that they are when they're out there than in my head. Thus, this is all fiction. I still don't own shit. I didn't even come up with this by myself.
Author's Notes: I was simultaneously writing a Naomi/Emily & Lily/Kat fic early this morning instead of my research paper. And this is what's come of my hard work. The Naomi/Emily fic can be seen here. This one is meant to be a longer piece because after I wrote what I did, nothing else was sprouting out. And it doesn't sound finished. But I have something in my mind on how I want it to end, so I want to get it there. Title from Kanye West's 'Love Lockdown'.
Author's Notes II: This was actually inspired after cyandragonfly's Meg POV series about our favorite notyet-bians. Cheers to you, pal. Unbetaed and written basically in 1.5 sitting. So, again, feedback is legit and helpful. Thanks!
It makes her wonder, more than just sometimes now, just how the fuck she got into all this. And why no one has tapped her on the shoulder and go, “No, Kat. You can’t have feelings for her.”
But no, everyone is too busy saving their own arse to help a girl out. Fuckers.
It’s such a cliché, really. She doesn’t want to be just another cliché. Even that sentence is already overdone.
But even clichés have to stem from the truth, haven’t they?
Great. Just what she needs; another entry on her long Not to Do List, right under ‘become a full on alcoholic before the age of 25’.
Puffing out an exhaled breath, Kat ruefully shakes her head and walks out onto the set. Damn it to hell, yeah? She’s Kathryn fuckin’ Prescott and she will get her shit done and smirk while doing so.
--
Meg prepares a steaming cup of hot cocoa by the crafts table before sitting by her sister, who she finds has been isolating herself quite frequently as of late.
Kat sees her sister walk towards her before occupying the empty space beside her. She remains quiet the entire time. She isn’t in the mood to talk. She can blame it on the particularly cold weather, just in case.
“You all right?” she asks her older sister of six minutes.
“Yeah, just tired. It’s fuckin’ cold.”
Meg murmurs in agreement, stirring her hot cocoa with a thin coffee straw. There’s an engulfing silence and neither girls say anything. Then Meg shifts herself before speaking.
“They’ve got you doing some pretty intense stuff,” Meg states as she sips from a warm cup of hot cocoa.
“Not like having a cat fight that involves getting hit with a rock,” Kat says, smiling, as they stare out onto the crew working to prepare the set. Meg laughs.
The two of them, not quite mirror images of each other, forego the usual smoking in between scenes and sit quietly on the makeshift bench of coolers, sipping on their respective cups of hot liquid: Kat with coffee and Meg with hot cocoa.
It’s times like these when Kat enjoys spending time with her sister the most. No matter what anybody says, assumes or implies about the two of them; no matter what she says on interviews about each other; no matter what she tells her own sister sometimes, her favorite parts will always be when she and Meg would just sit and watch the world together, as equals, as sisters.
“You’ve gotten into Emily well.”
“What?”
“Emily. You’ve gotten good at playing her.”
Kat’s eyebrows scrunch together. She looks at her sister whose eyes remain fixed on the crew in front of them, slowly blowing the steam out of her cup. It takes her a little longer to respond, first taking a sip of her coffee.
“Yeah.”
They’re silent again. A couple of minutes later, one of the crewmen calls on Meg, telling her she has to get ready for a scene with Kaya and Luke. She stands and Kat watches her down as much of the hot cocoa as she can before putting the cup on the cooler she sat on seconds ago. She looks at her sister while she takes the large coat off her back.
Their eyes meet and Meg gives her that small smile she’s perfected where it’s just the corner of her mouth that rises up. It’s not a smirk and it doesn’t condescend. It’s just exactly what it is, a small smile. A knowing one.
The crewman calls for her again and she turns around to look at him. Then she looks back at her twin sister.
“Kat.”
“Hm?”
“Just make sure that there’s still a difference,” she said, simply, without looking at her sister. It sounds like nothing at all, but to Kat’s pierced ears, she hears a gentle warning.
Before Kat can reply, Meg has run off leaving her alone on the makeshift bench of coolers, the cup of coffee turning cold.
It doesn’t take long for Kat to understand what Meg had meant. They are twins, after all, and they’ve spent countless hours with one another not to know what one of them is saying.
It isn’t twin telepathy. Kat knows that. Meg knew her. She is the closest person to Kat, so it made sense. When they argue, Meg gets verbal and loud. But when they talk - really talk - Meg gets quiet, like what she says is a secret no one else should know but the two of them; because Meg, even as the younger twin, feels the need to protect her older sister from whatever may harm her. And maybe it is the twin telepathy or whatever because Meg knows that if her sister’s hurt, a part of her hurts, too.
Kat can't really keep much away from her sister, can she? Because Meg doesn’t take bullshit from people, either. And they’re blunt about it. But it’s different when it’s your twin sister you’re dealing with. It’s a special case, something that should be approached differently. The two of them know that better than anyone else. So they’re subtle about it, vague even, almost in an Effy-esque way in which they communicate.
If Meg has already figured it out, surely it will only be a matter of time when someone else does, too.
Abandoning the rest of her drink, Kat stands from where she's sitting and walks away, taking that cigarette break after all.