FIC: echoes (sing me a love song & i'll sing it right back to you) [epilogue]
Rating: M
Warning: language, sexuality.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Skins, Company Pictures, & Channel4. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Full notes in Part 1.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Epilogue I || Epilogue II & Notes
Note: Yes. It's a Christmas bit. I wrote this actually before a rather large chunk of the actual piece. On Christmas break. Yeah. It was pretty much ~completely inspired by Vienna Teng's "The Atheist Christmas Carol" [lyrics, like, every. single. word].
EPILOGUE
Christmas carols are tinkling from a stereo across the room as Anthea and Tony place various baubles and decorations on their fake plastic tree in the front room. Fairy lights adorn it already and twinkle with a mischievous kind of promise. Christmas with the Stonems always reminds Naomi how much she's missed out on before. She's never been bothered about the lack of gaudy dead trees displayed so proudly and small magic babies born in barns. Those are still strange rituals she can't quite understand. But the feeling is what she'd never quite had. This communal effort to make something beautiful, for no other reason than to just savour being together. Her mum, while obviously a mega fan of community, must have missed the memo about Christmastime. It was always the same as every other day, except with that feeling that she was missing something important that everyone else had. Occasionally they did the Pagan thing, with the Yule cake or the Festivus thing, but that never lasted too long because it was seen as just another forced holiday for the sake of fitting in with the rest of the holiday season. And of course, Jenna Fitch wasn't, even in the spirit of Christmas, in favour of having Naomi over for supper or any festivities. Naomi had been allowed merely a glimpse of the tree surrounded with (useless, Capitalist-consumerism-inspired) gifts as she had snuck up to Emily's bedroom that one year.
The first Christmas in London was a time of serious readjustment. The Stonems, in some sort of 'make Effy happy' show, had gone all out. And going from nothing to everything all at once had been intimidating. She wasn't stupid; she knew what everything was, the reindeer and Santa and crèche and stockings. But to have it all in her face was an altogether different experience. And now, her third year, she was revelling in it and thankfully, Anthea had taken the enthusiasm down quite a few notches in the meantime. Now, Tony and his mum go about their practised routine and Naomi follows from her position on the sofa, basking in how comfortable it seems. She'd offered to help as she had done every year, but was always told that this was “their” thing. That was okay, though. It was just Tony and Anthea. Even Effy was shooed away and ended up laying on the settee with her head on Naomi's lap, observing the action with a keen eye, but occasionally dozing off. She's slightly more talkative these days (which isn't saying much) but the holidays always seem to make her extra pensive and silent. Tony drapes an angel onto a high branch at his mother's request. It shimmers for a moment, glinting brightly as it spins slowly. Naomi can't help but hope for her own mum to come by soon. She's meant to arrive in a few days, right before Christmas eve and spend it with them. At Naomi's insistence. She'd finally managed to show her mum that it wasn't about the gifts or fat paedo doing break and enters; it was about the feeling.
Tony chides his mum gently when she places a penguin on a sled too close to another penguin with a snowball and suggests somewhere else to put it. Christmas brought the best out of Tony Stonem, to be honest. Especially at home in these quiet, co-operative moments. She wishes he'd just be this way the rest of the year. The front bell chimes 4 times and Anthea looks a little surprised. Tony smirks and Naomi smiles widely. “That'll be Chelle,” she says with barely veiled excitement to Anthea and is about to rise when the older woman waves at her.
“I'll fetch her. Stay there.” It's pleasant, Anthea's shift in attitude. There's still a sore spot deep down about Michelle and Tony, but time has all but totally healed that wound.
Effy stirs. “Ooh, I luurrrve Chelle,” she taunts in a nasally voice obviously meant to badly impersonate Naomi. The older girl glances down at her lap, and Effy's face, and promptly slaps a hand over her mouth.
“Jesus, Effy. Hasn't anyone told you to talk far too much? Shut up once in a while, yeah?” She and Tony share a laugh at Effy's expense before he focuses again on the tree and all its necessary accoutrements. Her hand slides away from Effy's mouth and a grin takes its place. There's some chattering in the foyer before Michelle enters with a fuckload of baggage. Naomi and all the Stonems take her in curiously. She dumps one carrier bag on the coffee table and roots around in the other, pulling out 3 small gifts, pushing past Tony and placing them out of the way on the mat under the tree. They're the first presents to appear.
“My aunt insisted on bringing over some of our absolute mountain of cakes,” she explains, mostly to Anthea as she pulls out plate upon tin of various baked goods. “Sort of a thank you for keeping me out of her hair this year,” she jokes. Anthea's poking around the offerings with interest, pulling open tins and quietly oohing and ahhing at what she sees.
“These are lovely, Michelle,” she says finally and seems to genuinely mean it.
Tony turns and chuckles. “I wouldn't touch those if I were you, mum. Not if Nips has helped with them. Probably make you ill.” He's smiling.
“Oi, wanker,” she protests and hugs a plate protectively to her chest.
He winks. “I'm just saying. You're shit in the kitchen.”
“I am not, Tone! They're well delicious even if I did help out.” He shrugs and grins wider at her defensiveness before plucking another ornament from the box.
With the requisite bickering out of the way, she places the plate down and Anthea's already plopped a small biscuit into her mouth with a hum of approval. Michelle moves to the sofa and perches on the armrest beside Naomi, running a hand through the blonde hair in some sort of hello. Naomi leans her head against the warm hip beside her. With a trail of crumbs following Anthea across the room, she's back to helping Tony out with the last of decorations, nattering amongst themselves about the empty spots that need filling. Effy's eyes are closed again and she's breathing steadily. If Naomi didn't know better she'd swear the girl was narcoleptic. But it's infectious maybe cos the way Michelle's slowly stroking through her hair is causing her own eyelids to feel heavy. Everything is so relaxed and the blonde feels that life, despite how it may try to convince you of the opposite, was actually pretty fucking perfect.
The doorbell going off again startles everyone, and even Effy jumps a little. For some reason, Naomi feels everybody's eyes on her for explanation, as if she's some psychic visitor-predictor. And then something must click in Tony's mind cos he breaks out in a grin again. “Ah, I know who that is.” At his knowing tone, Effy pulls herself up, glaring suspiciously at his back as he heads towards the front door. She runs a hand through her hair to flatten it a bit from sleep. Anthea glances at her daughter who merely shrugs in response.
There is a lot of sound. Loud sound. Multiple people. Distinctive, familiar voices. Male, female and soon after a cacophony of boots are removed the visitors follow Tony into the lounge room.
“Merry merry!” comes an exuberant voice and Cook spreads his arms wide in some sort of celebration as twin girls follow in his wake, one rolling her eyes at him and the other smiling shyly. He immediately makes a beeline for Effy and scoops her up in his arms. “How're doin', princess?” he asks and kisses her cheek sloppily. The resulting smile on her face is sincere, an amazing feat to draw out of that enigma. He quickly moves to Naomi, takes her in a similar embrace. “Naomikins!” And then he takes Michelle's hand and graciously kisses it. “And the lovely Michelle. Fancy seeing you here.”
When the hellos are finished, the man of the hour turns his attention to the older blonde woman. “Miss Stonem, I've missed you the most, babe.” Naomi cringes in amusement at the greeting. “How's my leading lady holding up with all these youngsters?” Anthea for her part looks equally shocked and flattered, as if she's seeing a friendly ghost.
“Nice to see you, James.”
Never one to be outdone, Tony pushes Emily and Katie forward towards his mother, taking the attention away from Cook. “This is Katie and Emily,” he says, gesturing to each respectively. “Old mates of Effy and Naomi's, and mine.” Anthea mentions that it's good to see Katie looking so well, and shakes Emily's hand politely.
But then she pauses, her face crinkling in confusion. She scratches behind her ear absently. “Lovely. What exactly are you all doing here?”
“I invited them,” Tony states, as if any other possibility is ridiculous. “They were supposed to bring Sid,” he adds and pins Cook with a look.
Cook rolls his head in disbelief. “Ah come on, mate! I'm not a fucking taxi.” Katie snickers beside him and Effy laughs. Tony however doesn't appear as pleased with the joke. Cook steps forward and slaps his shoulder. “Relax, man. He's parking somewhere.” He shrugs dramatically and wanders over to the sofa, plops himself between herself and Effy, his arms stretched along the back of the cushions. King of the fucking castle and he's only been here 3 minutes. He pulls Effy against him, giving her a shake and ruffling her hair. She glares at him, smooths the mess but there's a small smile there. Katie watches with a surprising lack of jealousy. Naomi realises that she and Cook must really be happy. Emily, who as far as Naomi knows, has never actually met Anthea before hangs back behind Katie who's now chatting with the older woman. Naomi stands, interrupts the burgundy-haired twin briefly, giving her a hug in greeting before coming round to Emily and doing the same, and then taking her hand. She leads her over to the sofa and the redhead appears to be grateful for the removal from that awkward social situation.
“Hi, Emily,” Michelle says, standing and adjusting her top. She reaches out and gives the younger girl a quick, polite hug. It's better than nothing. Naomi smiles gratefully at her girlfriend for the effort.
“Hi, Michelle.” It's still tentative but it's nice. Naomi sees hope. To break the mild tension, Naomi pushes Emily down onto the sofa beside Cook and Effy and the boy laughs, yells “Emilio!” for no particular reason and pulls her into his little group embrace. The blonde watches them as a sprinkling of nostalgia threatens to build the beginning elements of tears. It only lasts a moment because Michelle's hand slips into hers and she squeezes in response. There is some thumping from the front corridor and suddenly a very wet looking Sid Jenkins marches into the sitting room and is met with Anthea's loud & shrill voice demanding he get back in the foyer and take off his boots and jacket. Naomi and Katie burst out into simultaneous fits of laughter at the drenched boy who looks like he fell in a pond somewhere along the way, whilst he looks thoroughly unhappy. Anthea's fussing over him and Tony is smirking at the commotion.
“Sid, you tit! What happened?” he calls over. He's only met with a response that is some sort of mumbled complaint about roadworks and puddles and “fucking London twats” as Anthea quickly runs to the kitchen with his soaked jacket to wring it out or something. Tony pats Sid on the back, gives the pathetic boy a once-over and motions upstairs. “Let's get you out of those wet clothes, yeah?” he suggests in the most ridiculous way possible. Katie makes a snorting sound as she watches the boys go upstairs.
Suddenly, they're alone. Their rag-tag group of misfits, or what's left of them, plus Michelle. No one speaks immediately and the irritating voice of Bing Crosby floats over top of the noise in the kitchen and the muffled arguments of the boys upstairs. It's Christmastime, and they're all together again. Like people are supposed to do at this time of year but now, unlike before when it was just Naomi and the Stonems, it seems oddly formal. Forced, even. No doubt because of all the history or whatever, but it's bringing Naomi's holiday spirit down just a tad. She needs to do something cos, well, she's technically the hostess since Effy doesn't really speak much and none of the others live here. She points behind Katie.
“Have a seat, Katie,” she prompts and the twin obliges easily and Naomi nudges Michelle towards the other. “Who wants some drinks?” she asks, putting on a happy face. There's a general murmur of agreement, and obviously overhearing them, Anthea calls from the kitchen that she'll take care of it all. Naomi shrugs and grins. That was easy, she thinks as she glances at Michelle, plonking herself right on the older girl's lap, and feels an arm slip around her warmly. There. Sorted. Everyone's sitting and now talking can commence.
That is, if anyone would actually say anything. Michelle, lovely lovely Michelle, breaks the silence this time. “So, Cook,” she says, as if calling him by his last name still feels off, “How'd you manage to get the time off. It's a busy season, yeah?” Ah, work-related small talk. Well, it's better than nothing.
“I make my own hours, don't I?” he says with a very self-satisfied grin. “Plus, yeah, your man there offered some nice dosh if we'd drag that sodding mopey bugger with us.” He nods towards the ceiling.
And that's all it really takes: a few choice adjectives about Sid Jenkins and Katie is off yapping about how bloody emo he is and Emily reciting, in tandem with her and almost at verbatim, the entire roadtrip. By the time Anthea comes out with a tray of mimosas and sweets, the conversation is in full swing and it feels like home again. Eyes are sparkling, smiles are stretched and, best of all, Naomi feels comfortable wrapped in Michelle's arms with Emily in her presence, like wounds are finally healed and everyone is moving on. But not just moving on, moving forward. When she exchanges a smile with her ex-girlfriend as Michelle, Katie and Cook are again in the midst of some fascinating hot topic discussion, she knows everything, at least for this moment, is perfect.
The afternoon and evening pass in a blur of drinks, laughs and memories. They catch up on Katie and Cook's adventures in hilariously mismatched coupledom, Sid's uselessness, and Emily's new girlfriend, or almost girlfriend as it stands. It's half 11 by the time Emily yawns unabashedly, in her adorable drunken way and Katie scoffs loudly, in her own, equally half-sauced way. The younger twin curls against the sofa cushions with a dopey smile on her face, and struggles to keep her eyes open. Effy's part way through chugging a lager down just like old times and Cook and Tony are hollering nonsense at her to keep it up. Beer splashes down her face and neck as she finishes it off. Katie grabs the empty can from the brunette's weak hold and tosses it on the floor. Oh, mother Katiekins. All the boys, and Effy, boo at her in jest but she pins Cook with a very pointed glare that silences him almost instantly.
“Ems is fucking falling asleep. We need to go home.” It would be incredibly convincing if Katie didn't have a lisp that became far more pronounced the more she drinks. Cook waves her off dismissively and grabs another Carling for himself. “James!” Katie squeals again. Naomi has to hide her face in Michelle's shoulder at Katie's enunciation.
“Chill out, Katie,” Tony pipes up. “Emily can have my bed.” That may just be the most revolting yet amusing thing Naomi's heard all night and she makes no quiet show of her disdain, sliding to the floor at Michelle's feet in the process. Closer to the liquor, she reckons. Effy grins and giggles, falling into her brother who props her up with his non-drinking arm.
The thin brunette holds her new beer aloft. “And you can come in mine!” she says to Katie triumphantly, if slightly pissed. She waves her can at Katie's face as some sort of peace offering. “Both of you!” she adds and pokes Cook's cheek with her finger. It's always good to see Effy legitimately enjoying herself, and the company. The younger Stonem is only rewarded however with a very raised and well-arched eyebrow from the older twin. Sid shifts about on the floor.
“Oh and what about me, yeah?” he asks, still sober and petulant. His part of the deal with getting a lift to London was that he was the designated driver. No drink driving at Christmas was the rule, Cook said, as if it were acceptable at other times of the year.
Tony slides a bottle towards him. “Drink up, Sidney. You can share with Mum.”
And so with a giant riotous wave of laugher, it's settled. (Though the sleeping arrangements do end up being altered in the end.) Naomi looks around at her friends, family perhaps as she gazes at Effy and Tony tickling each other until Effy rolls off the sofa, tumbles into the edge of the coffee table and succeeds in knocking over Sid's first drink right onto the sullen boy's trousers. It's fucking hilarious though and Effy and Cook both squeal with delight at Sid's continued misfortune. Emily's perked up with all the commotion (and Red Bull) and is bickering with Katie about the choice of liquor for the next round of shots, which is only broken by Katie turning to Effy mid-pour and shouting “Watch it, you manky drunk cow!” as Effy knocks the table once more with her knee as she attempts to sit up again. She's laughing too hard to really pay attention to Katie, and Naomi reckons it's kind of a term of endearment between them anyway.
Anthea comes down only once to cast a disapproving glance at Tony and the state his little sister is in, but miraculously she lets it slide. It's a sign. Effy's better. They're all better. Drunk, yeah. Still fucked up. But also better, even deep down.
Cook jumps up onto his feet, standing on the sofa and shouts “Tuuuuunnnee!” as Brenda Lee's “Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree” comes on the radio and Michelle clambers off the armchair to crank the volume on the stereo. For some baffling reason, Effy and Tony see this as a signal to dance and they pull both Katie and Emily up to their feet. Cook's jumping on the sofa haphazardly, and even pouty Sid is shimmying about with Katie and Michelle. It's all very Home Alone, if those mannequins had been real people. Naomi just watches them all with the stupidest grin on her face.
Like most good things, the end comes far too soon and there is a chorus of “Aahh”s and “Nooo”s, until Tony stumbles over, fiddles with his iPod and suddenly there's a heavy 'whoomp whoomp' of techno music and Katie starts complaining before the melody kicks in. Effy hoots and throws her hands up in the air and the dancing resumes again, slightly differently than before. It's barely controlled mayhem now and Naomi's heart actually feels like it's going to break a little with the nostalgia. She's on her feet before the feeling can get too heavy and knocks back the last of her lager. She stumbles a little with the effort but Michelle's at her side, giving her a nudge of support and not soon after a very enthused kiss on the mouth. Tongue and everything. Tongue. It makes her a little woozy for moment, in a good way, but she laughs quickly, passing it off. But Michelle can tell anyway and smirks at her. To shut her up, Naomi plants one on her again and manges to catch the older girl slightly off-guard with her impulsiveness. Nice. Arms wrap loosely over her shoulders and around her neck as Michelle begins shuffling to the music again, and Naomi finds herself easily pulling her closer without a second thought, swaying slightly in response. It's relaxing, and right. But of course, it being Michelle, this nice moment doesn't last too long before her hips start gyrating a little more pronounced. Her and her fucking dirty dancing at any opportunity. Naomi's suddenly all too aware of every lithe movement in front of her and she groans very quietly, and presses her lips to the shell of Michelle's ear.
“You're terrible. Stop it,” she whispers fiercely. “We've company.” Both of them know Naomi doesn't quite mean it and the smile is obvious in her tone. When she looks up, Tony's got his eye on them with that familiar leer even whilst involved in an intense-looking conversation with Cook and Katie. He likely knows Michelle just as well as she does and often times that's distressing, but sometimes it's like they're part of some special club and they share knowing glances with each other. He finds amusement in things no one else would pick up on. This is one of those times and Naomi's fairly certain its because of her vague discomfort and not really anything else. Tony is a sucker for Schadenfreude. Michelle only giggles drunkenly in response to Naomi's request and amplifies her dancing. She likes this kind of attention on her, and being in the presence of her ex-boyfriend and Naomi's ex-girlfriend (and honestly frightening twin sister of that ex) seems not to matter in the least. It's Christmas after all, right? Love is all around and all that bollocks. Hopefully. When Naomi catches Emily's gaze, there's a moment of fear, doubt again until Emily grins and nods enthusiastically, before raising a shot in a toast to something. Things relax at that moment and Naomi's smile in response is completely and utterly genuine.
A bit later, when Michelle, Sid, Cook and Tony are having some sort of silly-looking dance off and Katie is talking with Effy, Emily comes to stand beside Naomi. It sparks a memory of the last time they did this, in Motion, that horrible night in Bristol. They're both just surveying the scene.
“You're all right?” Emily asks, sneaking a glance up at Naomi.
The blonde smiles and let's out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” She pauses. “Don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It's serious, you know?” And it is. It's been months now and Naomi's never in her life been in a steady, consistent and good relationship like this. She had been with Emily longer, but it hadn't been healthy. This is different. “Bloody scary,” she admits. “But, yeah. It's good. I'm good.” She gazes down at her ex-girlfriend.
“Good.”
Naomi cocks her head. “You? You okay?”
Emily stares out at the meagre crowd, sways a little and raises her cup to her lips, taking a sip. “Very,” she says with a grin, tickling Naomi's fingers with her own until Naomi moves and grabs Emily in a tight embrace. The redhead wiggles a little to prevent Naomi's enthusiastic hug from choking her and laughs. Naomi doesn't let go however, not even a little bit and Emily resorts to snaking her arms around the body in front of her. The tender moment is brutally interrupted when a sloshed young Stonem grabs them both, her fingers digging in as she holds on too. Naomi lessens her headlock and pulls in Effy. There's silence between the three of them, heavy but patient, as if waiting for the exact moment when everything falls into place.
“Thank you,” Naomi slurs, whether from the drink or from emotion, it's not clear. But it's sincere and she means it for them both. She's not daft. She knows Effy's orchestrations have been no small contributor her success with Michelle, especially those times when she looks at Effy it's like there's a “thank you” of her own sparkling in her blue eyes. It's like they're finally even now. Tit for tat. In a sense, they've dragged each other out of darkness. And Emily, well, it's obvious where she comes in. Without both these girls, Naomi wouldn't feel as she does now. And it's fucking Christmas, yeah? Time to share joy and love and gratitude and all that soppy bollocks. Effy breaks away first without a word and rejoins the others in taking more shots. As Naomi loosens her hold, Emily pulls back and chuckles.
“You get so emotional when you drink now,” she laughs.
Naomi mock-sneers and shoves the twin away from her. “Ugh, shut up.”
“No, it's nice,” Emily breathes. “You've changed, you know.”
The blonde raises a skeptical eyebrow in response, snorts and gazes at Michelle as she shot-guns a can of lager like a frat boy.
“I mean, you're obviously still a twat, just a softer one.”
Naomi shakes her head and smiles, elbowing Emily again. “And you're still a pest, just a slightly taller one.”
Emily nods with a grin. “Yep, twat.” She giggles at the playfully appalled look on Naomi's face and grabs her cup again, taking a sip leisurely. Naomi smiles too, and sighs, looking first at Emily, then at the crowd of people hovering around the coffee table with shots in their hands. Michelle looks up, over at the two of them before she catches her eye, and then she winks at her girlfriend with a mixture of both amusement and flirtatiousness. Yes, Naomi feels good.
At 6:29 AM Christmas Day, Naomi Campbell is fast asleep, and gently spooning a thin brunette. Effy breathes steadily into her pillow and curls up around Pato a little more. It had been all she had asked for from Naomi for her gift. They had done this ages ago when Effy had just come home from hospital. She, Tony and Anthea had all taken turns because Effy's paranoia about being crept up on by a killer had caused consecutive sleepless nights for everyone in the flat and this had been a way to quiet the fear. Eventually Effy healed and no longer needed the extra comfort, but every now and then it was still nice. So that was her single request to Naomi. Just Christmas Eve. It worked out well since Gina was occupying her bed anyway. However, at exactly half 6 in the morning, Naomi's mobile vibrates loudly on the night table. She rolls over quickly to silence it, only to see a familiar name in the caller ID.
“Hullo?” she whispers groggily into her phone.
“Happy Christmas!” Michelle's voice sounds far too alert for this ungodly hour.
Naomi tries and fails to repress a yawn. “Chelle? It's not even daylight yet,” she whispers adamantly.
“Happy Christmas to you too, Chelle,” the other girl supplies in Naomi's place. She shifts about trying not to wake Effy. Her attempts must fail cos all she hears is a quiet “Go.” come from the other side of the bed, and she smiles, places a quick kiss on Effy's temple and crawls out quickly and slips downstairs to speak slightly more freely. She pulls her legs up under her on the sofa after plugging in the fairy lights on the tree. It's lovely actually, the glow.
“What's going on?” Naomi finally asks, curious as to the nature of this still slightly unwelcome wake-up call.
The girl on the other end sounds out of breath, and tinny a bit like she's walking. Maybe she's wanking, Naomi thinks, and chuckles a little at the idea of Christmas morning phone sex at the crack of dawn. Then the thought really hits and she suddenly can't seem to focus on anything but the idea of Michelle touching herself, under a tree or some shit.
“Nothing.” Yes, out of breath. Wanking. Holy fuck. “My aunt left last night to go on her mini-break early.” Yep, home alone and everything. Then Naomi pauses.
“Wait, you're alone? You spent Christmas Eve alone?” Her heart that had previously been beating faster in anticipation of a little morning fun feels heavy now. She's alone on Christmas. “You should have called, you muppet. Could have stayed over here.”
There's a sound of disbelief on the other end of the line. “Where? On the sofa?” She laughs. “Yeah, that's much better.”
Naomi smiles even though she knows her girlfriend can't see it. “No, kick Tony out. Take his bed. Simple as.”
“Right.” She does sound out of breath; there's no mistaking it. Naomi yawns again, gathering her thoughts.
“Come over now.” It's a demand that Naomi has no difficulty making. She's sure Anthea won't mind in the least and it will be good for her own mum to spend some time with Michelle too. She barely knows her really. Sure, it Christmas and the time for family, but fuck it, Chelle is as good as family now. In a totally non-relative sort of way, of course. She hears a small sigh come through the phone.
“It's cold out.”
Naomi groans. As if she's been woken up for merely a chat. “What? Chelle, this is mental. Why did you ring so--?”
She's cut off before the question fully comes out. “Cos I didn't want to ring the bell and wake everyone, now did I?”
The words sink in quite quickly considering the time of the morning and Naomi's on her feet even faster. She pulls open the front door like she's expecting sodding Santa Claus and is met with a very cold looking girlfriend instead. She shakes her head in amused disbelief. Michelle had walked through the dark, in London, on Christmas morning all the way here. “Get inside, you stupid cow,” Naomi chides in mock disdain. The moment the door closes, she's pressed up against the wall and met with a wet, warm kiss of thanks. She pulls Michelle's jacket from her shoulders with a smile and hangs it on a hook. “Let's go make a brew.” Michelle drops her kit bag among the shoes in the hall and kicks off her UGGs, following behind Naomi, who busies herself instantly with filling the kettle. Michelle hovers in the doorway.
“I can't believe you made that whole walk in the night. You're actually mad, yeah?” She glances over at the brunette who's pulled her over-sized hoodie tight around herself. Her ridiculous penguin fleecy bottoms make Naomi smile. She actually came over in her pyjamas. How very uncharacteristic of pristine Michelle Richardson.
She shakes her head against Naomi's assertion. “No,” she sighs. “Not mad. Just lonely.” The blonde pins her hard with a stare. She knows that word. She knows the very important distinction between it and 'alone'. Lonely is so much worse. Naomi knew lonely all too well, and honestly hadn't felt very much of it since moving to London, and even less so since Michelle trampled down the stairs and into her life nearly 9 months ago. She knew being around other people wouldn't make you less lonely, just less alone. It was up to you to take care of the loneliness yourself. She twists the tap off and places the kettle in its stand and flicks the switch.
“Chelle...” she trails as she turns to look at her girlfriend again.
She's met with a reassuring smile. “It's fine, Nome.” What's she's not saying is more important. 'I'm here now. I'm with you. I'm better.' Naomi's known about this ability of hers in the past but to have it so blatantly shown to her, the power her own presence can have, is both incredibly scary and even more fulfilling. Michelle shrugs then. “Besides, I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, in person.” With a smooth sweep oh her arms, that bulky jumper is over her head and falls to the floor. Naomi just stands and stares, mouth half-open, maybe. She's completely unaware of her own body at the moment.
Her reaction doesn't make sense in a way. She's seen Michelle naked more times now than she can even fathom to count. Would like to believe she knows every inch of skin. Maybe it's the suddenness. Maybe it's the odd-timing, the strange day, the Christmas tree glowing in the room behind her. Maybe it's the juxtaposition of all these things plus how sexy she's obviously not really trying to be. Naomi's gaze rakes downwards, top to bottom. From Michelle's straight hair, tied messily into a loose bun, tendrils slipping out, her fringe casual, then down to the thin, white vest top that is obviously at least 2 sizes too small and rides up above her belly button. And then finally, those fucking pyjamas with their skiing cartoon penguins that hang low off her hips, and it's all very contradictory. And the worst or best part (Naomi can't decide which) is the bitch isn't even wearing a sodding bra. And, yeah, it's chilly in the kitchen this early in the winter morning.
“Jesus.” It's the only word that she seems capable of forming. It's far too much to process at this time of day. Michelle peers at her from half-lidded eyes and it's only making matters worse. But Naomi knows; knows Michelle is like this, knows what she's doing. She feeds on people's reactions to her; it makes her feel good to feel wanted. And really, who doesn't like to feel that way? It's times like these however that its a bit like a double-edged sword because Naomi doesn't think it's really necessary; she doubts herself and how much she's put into the relationship. Cascades of self-doubt fall upon her despite how much Michelle takes her breath away. Michelle should know, does know, doesn't she? She doesn't need to do this. Maybe it's just for reaffirmation. Naomi forgets about the kettle and the tea and whatever else and steps quickly to her girlfriend, who probably could wear dogshit and still be sexy.
She doesn't kiss her, not immediately. She leans closer to her ear instead. “How about for my gift, you put on your jumper when everyone else comes downstairs, yeah?” She can't stop her hands from sliding over exposed skin around her waist. Michelle is surprisingly warm for having been out in a December night for at least a half hour.
“Yeah, why's that?”
Naomi chuckles and sweeps her palms up over barely covered tits, tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric. She hears a sharp intake of breath in response. Point made. “People like Tony, they see this but they don't see the whole thing like I do. Too distracted.” Really, Naomi doesn't like sharing what's hers. She's an only child, stubborn, spoilt and needy deep down. And so is Chelle. Thoughts flicker to Emily, the only other serious relationship in her life and how there was always that struggle and she never felt she really had Emily to herself. Not ever, honestly. Michelle's different, and not just because she doesn't have an overbearing twin sister and perfect family. She doesn't like sharing any more than Naomi does and when she plays these games? Tricks perhaps, to keep Naomi there and aware. Fucking hell does it work. Funny thing is Naomi's also aware of the tricks herself, and it doesn't bother her. Greediness. Neediness. It all sounds so depressing and awful when formulated into words. It doesn't feel that way though.
“You don't have to do this you know,” Naomi says finally as she drags her lips along the soft, pliant and easily bruised skin of the other girl's neck, leaving her mark with a lovebite that makes Michelle's shoulders lurch for a moment. Naomi's hit with Effy's words from early last summer. You should tell her. Tell her. Naomi knows she doesn't tell her, not nearly enough cos it's just not who she is. Never will be. But it's Christmas and Michelle's presented herself like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped with her tongue. “I already love you. This. Everything. I already want you.” She feels two hands grip her cheeks and lips meet her own now. It's so fucking languid and fluid and just pulsates with force. She always forgets Michelle needs to hear the words sometimes.
“Really?” she asks when Naomi pulls away and the question is downright absurd. The blonde scoffs in disbelief.
“If I had a cock, trust me, I'd already be sodding ballsdeep inside you.” It's certainly not the most romantic thing she's ever said, but it's possibly one of the truest. In fact, she's pretty bloody lucky to even get away with saying shit like that to her girlfriend.
Michelle raises an eyebrow. “So why aren't you?”
Naomi smirks and sees it mirrored in the brunette's face as well. Without thinking, they've stumbled onto the sofa, lips crashing and Naomi tugging at the blue ribbon holding those goofy penguin bottoms up. There's one thing she's learnt about Michelle: she bases some sense of self-worth on how much she appeals to others, physically, sexually; she throws herself into things in this crude, abrupt way for attention, for love... but when she gives her body in this way, she is really giving you her soul to hold onto for a moment, maybe forever. It's the most fragile thing she owns. Tony, and any number of other insufferable boyfriends, hadn't even noticed this offering. It was carnal, passionate sure. But the trust not to break that soul, to take care of it, was never appreciated. Naomi knows what it's like to offer that to someone, romantically or platonicly, and have it broken, or have them steal it away like it was theirs to begin with anyway. She's careful now, both with her own and with others'. Especially Michelle's that had been so fractured and taken advantage of.
She knows she has Michelle's ultimate gift: trust. She'd been given that once before, and smashed it to pieces out of fear. It had been too much responsibility, too much belief in her. Too much meaning. And she's learnt from that. It's like gluing a crystal vase back together. It's possible to fix it somewhat but the cracks are there forever. It's never as strong again. This is a new vase, a new trust. She doesn't want to drop it.
And, in handing this over, Michelle had freed herself. It allowed her to receive love, understand it rather than just give it away wishfully and hopelessly on the whim of a charming boy. Far gone is what Tony had so crassly recounted, those tales of Michelle's inability to let go. Shutting her up is the harder part now. Sure, sometimes they still just fuck, plain and simple, but sometimes it's more. Naomi's not so fearful of meaning anymore. She's moving three fingers deep inside Michelle, in sure and knowing strokes whilst laying heavy kisses along the brunette's throat, her mouth. There's a point where Naomi has to seal their mouths together, and bites gently on Michelle's bottom lip. It's a small warning. The last thing Naomi wants to do is wake up the entire household. The front room doesn't have door. They don't have much leeway for noise. It's all a little for naught however because she knows her girlfriend is close already. She moves her thumb a little more insistently against the sensitive nub and suddenly Michelle is gasping almost silently; her legs clenching closer together. Even as Michelle's not quite finished cooling down, Naomi's ignoring her own want and already pulling up her girlfriend's trousers, just in case someone comes down. The absolute last thing she wants for Christmas is Tony Stonem to see them. Or her bloody mum. The brunette grins slyly as she ties up the ribbon.
“Don't get too comfortable,” she slurs and before Naomi has a real chance to interpret the remark, she finds herself flipped onto her back, right where Michelle had just been. Hazel eyes stare down at her in a predatory way. “Merry Christmas, Nome.”
If she had had the sense to object, or even the desire to, she's not sure she would have. Her own pj bottoms disappear somewhere, and one leg is over a shoulder. Michelle's tongue is already swirling purposefully through Naomi's folds, and Jesus Christ, is it the best Christmas morning ever. She spreads further and savours the feeling and tries her best not moan out loud. It's not as if this is an uncommon occurrence but just everything about the last few days has ended up perfectly and this is like the icing on top of more icing on top of a multi-layered cake. And the way Michelle's licking her out, she may as well be a wedding cake with double frosting. Her hips buck and grind and she clenches her mouth shut tightly, using the remaining vestiges of restraint she has. But she's not really sure what to make of it because she's coming in Michelle's mouth well before any real, substantial thoughts can pass through her completely mushy brain. She's literally gulping for breath and Michelle shimmies up her body, looking very happy with herself. Naomi takes a deep, long breath, grabs her trousers and pulls them up and falls back down exhaustedly onto the sofa, pressed close.
“Still want tea?” she breathes out.
Michelle shakes her head and curls around Naomi. “Nope, all warmed up now,” she mutters into the curve of the blonde's neck. Naomi sighs, pulls the blanket over them and fights the urge to fall asleep.
She doesn't succeed.
EPILOGUE PART II (ugh livejournal) >>
Warning: language, sexuality.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Skins, Company Pictures, & Channel4. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Full notes in Part 1.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Epilogue I || Epilogue II & Notes
Note: Yes. It's a Christmas bit. I wrote this actually before a rather large chunk of the actual piece. On Christmas break. Yeah. It was pretty much ~completely inspired by Vienna Teng's "The Atheist Christmas Carol" [lyrics, like, every. single. word].
EPILOGUE
Christmas carols are tinkling from a stereo across the room as Anthea and Tony place various baubles and decorations on their fake plastic tree in the front room. Fairy lights adorn it already and twinkle with a mischievous kind of promise. Christmas with the Stonems always reminds Naomi how much she's missed out on before. She's never been bothered about the lack of gaudy dead trees displayed so proudly and small magic babies born in barns. Those are still strange rituals she can't quite understand. But the feeling is what she'd never quite had. This communal effort to make something beautiful, for no other reason than to just savour being together. Her mum, while obviously a mega fan of community, must have missed the memo about Christmastime. It was always the same as every other day, except with that feeling that she was missing something important that everyone else had. Occasionally they did the Pagan thing, with the Yule cake or the Festivus thing, but that never lasted too long because it was seen as just another forced holiday for the sake of fitting in with the rest of the holiday season. And of course, Jenna Fitch wasn't, even in the spirit of Christmas, in favour of having Naomi over for supper or any festivities. Naomi had been allowed merely a glimpse of the tree surrounded with (useless, Capitalist-consumerism-inspired) gifts as she had snuck up to Emily's bedroom that one year.
The first Christmas in London was a time of serious readjustment. The Stonems, in some sort of 'make Effy happy' show, had gone all out. And going from nothing to everything all at once had been intimidating. She wasn't stupid; she knew what everything was, the reindeer and Santa and crèche and stockings. But to have it all in her face was an altogether different experience. And now, her third year, she was revelling in it and thankfully, Anthea had taken the enthusiasm down quite a few notches in the meantime. Now, Tony and his mum go about their practised routine and Naomi follows from her position on the sofa, basking in how comfortable it seems. She'd offered to help as she had done every year, but was always told that this was “their” thing. That was okay, though. It was just Tony and Anthea. Even Effy was shooed away and ended up laying on the settee with her head on Naomi's lap, observing the action with a keen eye, but occasionally dozing off. She's slightly more talkative these days (which isn't saying much) but the holidays always seem to make her extra pensive and silent. Tony drapes an angel onto a high branch at his mother's request. It shimmers for a moment, glinting brightly as it spins slowly. Naomi can't help but hope for her own mum to come by soon. She's meant to arrive in a few days, right before Christmas eve and spend it with them. At Naomi's insistence. She'd finally managed to show her mum that it wasn't about the gifts or fat paedo doing break and enters; it was about the feeling.
Tony chides his mum gently when she places a penguin on a sled too close to another penguin with a snowball and suggests somewhere else to put it. Christmas brought the best out of Tony Stonem, to be honest. Especially at home in these quiet, co-operative moments. She wishes he'd just be this way the rest of the year. The front bell chimes 4 times and Anthea looks a little surprised. Tony smirks and Naomi smiles widely. “That'll be Chelle,” she says with barely veiled excitement to Anthea and is about to rise when the older woman waves at her.
“I'll fetch her. Stay there.” It's pleasant, Anthea's shift in attitude. There's still a sore spot deep down about Michelle and Tony, but time has all but totally healed that wound.
Effy stirs. “Ooh, I luurrrve Chelle,” she taunts in a nasally voice obviously meant to badly impersonate Naomi. The older girl glances down at her lap, and Effy's face, and promptly slaps a hand over her mouth.
“Jesus, Effy. Hasn't anyone told you to talk far too much? Shut up once in a while, yeah?” She and Tony share a laugh at Effy's expense before he focuses again on the tree and all its necessary accoutrements. Her hand slides away from Effy's mouth and a grin takes its place. There's some chattering in the foyer before Michelle enters with a fuckload of baggage. Naomi and all the Stonems take her in curiously. She dumps one carrier bag on the coffee table and roots around in the other, pulling out 3 small gifts, pushing past Tony and placing them out of the way on the mat under the tree. They're the first presents to appear.
“My aunt insisted on bringing over some of our absolute mountain of cakes,” she explains, mostly to Anthea as she pulls out plate upon tin of various baked goods. “Sort of a thank you for keeping me out of her hair this year,” she jokes. Anthea's poking around the offerings with interest, pulling open tins and quietly oohing and ahhing at what she sees.
“These are lovely, Michelle,” she says finally and seems to genuinely mean it.
Tony turns and chuckles. “I wouldn't touch those if I were you, mum. Not if Nips has helped with them. Probably make you ill.” He's smiling.
“Oi, wanker,” she protests and hugs a plate protectively to her chest.
He winks. “I'm just saying. You're shit in the kitchen.”
“I am not, Tone! They're well delicious even if I did help out.” He shrugs and grins wider at her defensiveness before plucking another ornament from the box.
With the requisite bickering out of the way, she places the plate down and Anthea's already plopped a small biscuit into her mouth with a hum of approval. Michelle moves to the sofa and perches on the armrest beside Naomi, running a hand through the blonde hair in some sort of hello. Naomi leans her head against the warm hip beside her. With a trail of crumbs following Anthea across the room, she's back to helping Tony out with the last of decorations, nattering amongst themselves about the empty spots that need filling. Effy's eyes are closed again and she's breathing steadily. If Naomi didn't know better she'd swear the girl was narcoleptic. But it's infectious maybe cos the way Michelle's slowly stroking through her hair is causing her own eyelids to feel heavy. Everything is so relaxed and the blonde feels that life, despite how it may try to convince you of the opposite, was actually pretty fucking perfect.
The doorbell going off again startles everyone, and even Effy jumps a little. For some reason, Naomi feels everybody's eyes on her for explanation, as if she's some psychic visitor-predictor. And then something must click in Tony's mind cos he breaks out in a grin again. “Ah, I know who that is.” At his knowing tone, Effy pulls herself up, glaring suspiciously at his back as he heads towards the front door. She runs a hand through her hair to flatten it a bit from sleep. Anthea glances at her daughter who merely shrugs in response.
There is a lot of sound. Loud sound. Multiple people. Distinctive, familiar voices. Male, female and soon after a cacophony of boots are removed the visitors follow Tony into the lounge room.
“Merry merry!” comes an exuberant voice and Cook spreads his arms wide in some sort of celebration as twin girls follow in his wake, one rolling her eyes at him and the other smiling shyly. He immediately makes a beeline for Effy and scoops her up in his arms. “How're doin', princess?” he asks and kisses her cheek sloppily. The resulting smile on her face is sincere, an amazing feat to draw out of that enigma. He quickly moves to Naomi, takes her in a similar embrace. “Naomikins!” And then he takes Michelle's hand and graciously kisses it. “And the lovely Michelle. Fancy seeing you here.”
When the hellos are finished, the man of the hour turns his attention to the older blonde woman. “Miss Stonem, I've missed you the most, babe.” Naomi cringes in amusement at the greeting. “How's my leading lady holding up with all these youngsters?” Anthea for her part looks equally shocked and flattered, as if she's seeing a friendly ghost.
“Nice to see you, James.”
Never one to be outdone, Tony pushes Emily and Katie forward towards his mother, taking the attention away from Cook. “This is Katie and Emily,” he says, gesturing to each respectively. “Old mates of Effy and Naomi's, and mine.” Anthea mentions that it's good to see Katie looking so well, and shakes Emily's hand politely.
But then she pauses, her face crinkling in confusion. She scratches behind her ear absently. “Lovely. What exactly are you all doing here?”
“I invited them,” Tony states, as if any other possibility is ridiculous. “They were supposed to bring Sid,” he adds and pins Cook with a look.
Cook rolls his head in disbelief. “Ah come on, mate! I'm not a fucking taxi.” Katie snickers beside him and Effy laughs. Tony however doesn't appear as pleased with the joke. Cook steps forward and slaps his shoulder. “Relax, man. He's parking somewhere.” He shrugs dramatically and wanders over to the sofa, plops himself between herself and Effy, his arms stretched along the back of the cushions. King of the fucking castle and he's only been here 3 minutes. He pulls Effy against him, giving her a shake and ruffling her hair. She glares at him, smooths the mess but there's a small smile there. Katie watches with a surprising lack of jealousy. Naomi realises that she and Cook must really be happy. Emily, who as far as Naomi knows, has never actually met Anthea before hangs back behind Katie who's now chatting with the older woman. Naomi stands, interrupts the burgundy-haired twin briefly, giving her a hug in greeting before coming round to Emily and doing the same, and then taking her hand. She leads her over to the sofa and the redhead appears to be grateful for the removal from that awkward social situation.
“Hi, Emily,” Michelle says, standing and adjusting her top. She reaches out and gives the younger girl a quick, polite hug. It's better than nothing. Naomi smiles gratefully at her girlfriend for the effort.
“Hi, Michelle.” It's still tentative but it's nice. Naomi sees hope. To break the mild tension, Naomi pushes Emily down onto the sofa beside Cook and Effy and the boy laughs, yells “Emilio!” for no particular reason and pulls her into his little group embrace. The blonde watches them as a sprinkling of nostalgia threatens to build the beginning elements of tears. It only lasts a moment because Michelle's hand slips into hers and she squeezes in response. There is some thumping from the front corridor and suddenly a very wet looking Sid Jenkins marches into the sitting room and is met with Anthea's loud & shrill voice demanding he get back in the foyer and take off his boots and jacket. Naomi and Katie burst out into simultaneous fits of laughter at the drenched boy who looks like he fell in a pond somewhere along the way, whilst he looks thoroughly unhappy. Anthea's fussing over him and Tony is smirking at the commotion.
“Sid, you tit! What happened?” he calls over. He's only met with a response that is some sort of mumbled complaint about roadworks and puddles and “fucking London twats” as Anthea quickly runs to the kitchen with his soaked jacket to wring it out or something. Tony pats Sid on the back, gives the pathetic boy a once-over and motions upstairs. “Let's get you out of those wet clothes, yeah?” he suggests in the most ridiculous way possible. Katie makes a snorting sound as she watches the boys go upstairs.
Suddenly, they're alone. Their rag-tag group of misfits, or what's left of them, plus Michelle. No one speaks immediately and the irritating voice of Bing Crosby floats over top of the noise in the kitchen and the muffled arguments of the boys upstairs. It's Christmastime, and they're all together again. Like people are supposed to do at this time of year but now, unlike before when it was just Naomi and the Stonems, it seems oddly formal. Forced, even. No doubt because of all the history or whatever, but it's bringing Naomi's holiday spirit down just a tad. She needs to do something cos, well, she's technically the hostess since Effy doesn't really speak much and none of the others live here. She points behind Katie.
“Have a seat, Katie,” she prompts and the twin obliges easily and Naomi nudges Michelle towards the other. “Who wants some drinks?” she asks, putting on a happy face. There's a general murmur of agreement, and obviously overhearing them, Anthea calls from the kitchen that she'll take care of it all. Naomi shrugs and grins. That was easy, she thinks as she glances at Michelle, plonking herself right on the older girl's lap, and feels an arm slip around her warmly. There. Sorted. Everyone's sitting and now talking can commence.
That is, if anyone would actually say anything. Michelle, lovely lovely Michelle, breaks the silence this time. “So, Cook,” she says, as if calling him by his last name still feels off, “How'd you manage to get the time off. It's a busy season, yeah?” Ah, work-related small talk. Well, it's better than nothing.
“I make my own hours, don't I?” he says with a very self-satisfied grin. “Plus, yeah, your man there offered some nice dosh if we'd drag that sodding mopey bugger with us.” He nods towards the ceiling.
And that's all it really takes: a few choice adjectives about Sid Jenkins and Katie is off yapping about how bloody emo he is and Emily reciting, in tandem with her and almost at verbatim, the entire roadtrip. By the time Anthea comes out with a tray of mimosas and sweets, the conversation is in full swing and it feels like home again. Eyes are sparkling, smiles are stretched and, best of all, Naomi feels comfortable wrapped in Michelle's arms with Emily in her presence, like wounds are finally healed and everyone is moving on. But not just moving on, moving forward. When she exchanges a smile with her ex-girlfriend as Michelle, Katie and Cook are again in the midst of some fascinating hot topic discussion, she knows everything, at least for this moment, is perfect.
The afternoon and evening pass in a blur of drinks, laughs and memories. They catch up on Katie and Cook's adventures in hilariously mismatched coupledom, Sid's uselessness, and Emily's new girlfriend, or almost girlfriend as it stands. It's half 11 by the time Emily yawns unabashedly, in her adorable drunken way and Katie scoffs loudly, in her own, equally half-sauced way. The younger twin curls against the sofa cushions with a dopey smile on her face, and struggles to keep her eyes open. Effy's part way through chugging a lager down just like old times and Cook and Tony are hollering nonsense at her to keep it up. Beer splashes down her face and neck as she finishes it off. Katie grabs the empty can from the brunette's weak hold and tosses it on the floor. Oh, mother Katiekins. All the boys, and Effy, boo at her in jest but she pins Cook with a very pointed glare that silences him almost instantly.
“Ems is fucking falling asleep. We need to go home.” It would be incredibly convincing if Katie didn't have a lisp that became far more pronounced the more she drinks. Cook waves her off dismissively and grabs another Carling for himself. “James!” Katie squeals again. Naomi has to hide her face in Michelle's shoulder at Katie's enunciation.
“Chill out, Katie,” Tony pipes up. “Emily can have my bed.” That may just be the most revolting yet amusing thing Naomi's heard all night and she makes no quiet show of her disdain, sliding to the floor at Michelle's feet in the process. Closer to the liquor, she reckons. Effy grins and giggles, falling into her brother who props her up with his non-drinking arm.
The thin brunette holds her new beer aloft. “And you can come in mine!” she says to Katie triumphantly, if slightly pissed. She waves her can at Katie's face as some sort of peace offering. “Both of you!” she adds and pokes Cook's cheek with her finger. It's always good to see Effy legitimately enjoying herself, and the company. The younger Stonem is only rewarded however with a very raised and well-arched eyebrow from the older twin. Sid shifts about on the floor.
“Oh and what about me, yeah?” he asks, still sober and petulant. His part of the deal with getting a lift to London was that he was the designated driver. No drink driving at Christmas was the rule, Cook said, as if it were acceptable at other times of the year.
Tony slides a bottle towards him. “Drink up, Sidney. You can share with Mum.”
And so with a giant riotous wave of laugher, it's settled. (Though the sleeping arrangements do end up being altered in the end.) Naomi looks around at her friends, family perhaps as she gazes at Effy and Tony tickling each other until Effy rolls off the sofa, tumbles into the edge of the coffee table and succeeds in knocking over Sid's first drink right onto the sullen boy's trousers. It's fucking hilarious though and Effy and Cook both squeal with delight at Sid's continued misfortune. Emily's perked up with all the commotion (and Red Bull) and is bickering with Katie about the choice of liquor for the next round of shots, which is only broken by Katie turning to Effy mid-pour and shouting “Watch it, you manky drunk cow!” as Effy knocks the table once more with her knee as she attempts to sit up again. She's laughing too hard to really pay attention to Katie, and Naomi reckons it's kind of a term of endearment between them anyway.
Anthea comes down only once to cast a disapproving glance at Tony and the state his little sister is in, but miraculously she lets it slide. It's a sign. Effy's better. They're all better. Drunk, yeah. Still fucked up. But also better, even deep down.
Cook jumps up onto his feet, standing on the sofa and shouts “Tuuuuunnnee!” as Brenda Lee's “Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree” comes on the radio and Michelle clambers off the armchair to crank the volume on the stereo. For some baffling reason, Effy and Tony see this as a signal to dance and they pull both Katie and Emily up to their feet. Cook's jumping on the sofa haphazardly, and even pouty Sid is shimmying about with Katie and Michelle. It's all very Home Alone, if those mannequins had been real people. Naomi just watches them all with the stupidest grin on her face.
Like most good things, the end comes far too soon and there is a chorus of “Aahh”s and “Nooo”s, until Tony stumbles over, fiddles with his iPod and suddenly there's a heavy 'whoomp whoomp' of techno music and Katie starts complaining before the melody kicks in. Effy hoots and throws her hands up in the air and the dancing resumes again, slightly differently than before. It's barely controlled mayhem now and Naomi's heart actually feels like it's going to break a little with the nostalgia. She's on her feet before the feeling can get too heavy and knocks back the last of her lager. She stumbles a little with the effort but Michelle's at her side, giving her a nudge of support and not soon after a very enthused kiss on the mouth. Tongue and everything. Tongue. It makes her a little woozy for moment, in a good way, but she laughs quickly, passing it off. But Michelle can tell anyway and smirks at her. To shut her up, Naomi plants one on her again and manges to catch the older girl slightly off-guard with her impulsiveness. Nice. Arms wrap loosely over her shoulders and around her neck as Michelle begins shuffling to the music again, and Naomi finds herself easily pulling her closer without a second thought, swaying slightly in response. It's relaxing, and right. But of course, it being Michelle, this nice moment doesn't last too long before her hips start gyrating a little more pronounced. Her and her fucking dirty dancing at any opportunity. Naomi's suddenly all too aware of every lithe movement in front of her and she groans very quietly, and presses her lips to the shell of Michelle's ear.
“You're terrible. Stop it,” she whispers fiercely. “We've company.” Both of them know Naomi doesn't quite mean it and the smile is obvious in her tone. When she looks up, Tony's got his eye on them with that familiar leer even whilst involved in an intense-looking conversation with Cook and Katie. He likely knows Michelle just as well as she does and often times that's distressing, but sometimes it's like they're part of some special club and they share knowing glances with each other. He finds amusement in things no one else would pick up on. This is one of those times and Naomi's fairly certain its because of her vague discomfort and not really anything else. Tony is a sucker for Schadenfreude. Michelle only giggles drunkenly in response to Naomi's request and amplifies her dancing. She likes this kind of attention on her, and being in the presence of her ex-boyfriend and Naomi's ex-girlfriend (and honestly frightening twin sister of that ex) seems not to matter in the least. It's Christmas after all, right? Love is all around and all that bollocks. Hopefully. When Naomi catches Emily's gaze, there's a moment of fear, doubt again until Emily grins and nods enthusiastically, before raising a shot in a toast to something. Things relax at that moment and Naomi's smile in response is completely and utterly genuine.
A bit later, when Michelle, Sid, Cook and Tony are having some sort of silly-looking dance off and Katie is talking with Effy, Emily comes to stand beside Naomi. It sparks a memory of the last time they did this, in Motion, that horrible night in Bristol. They're both just surveying the scene.
“You're all right?” Emily asks, sneaking a glance up at Naomi.
The blonde smiles and let's out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” She pauses. “Don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It's serious, you know?” And it is. It's been months now and Naomi's never in her life been in a steady, consistent and good relationship like this. She had been with Emily longer, but it hadn't been healthy. This is different. “Bloody scary,” she admits. “But, yeah. It's good. I'm good.” She gazes down at her ex-girlfriend.
“Good.”
Naomi cocks her head. “You? You okay?”
Emily stares out at the meagre crowd, sways a little and raises her cup to her lips, taking a sip. “Very,” she says with a grin, tickling Naomi's fingers with her own until Naomi moves and grabs Emily in a tight embrace. The redhead wiggles a little to prevent Naomi's enthusiastic hug from choking her and laughs. Naomi doesn't let go however, not even a little bit and Emily resorts to snaking her arms around the body in front of her. The tender moment is brutally interrupted when a sloshed young Stonem grabs them both, her fingers digging in as she holds on too. Naomi lessens her headlock and pulls in Effy. There's silence between the three of them, heavy but patient, as if waiting for the exact moment when everything falls into place.
“Thank you,” Naomi slurs, whether from the drink or from emotion, it's not clear. But it's sincere and she means it for them both. She's not daft. She knows Effy's orchestrations have been no small contributor her success with Michelle, especially those times when she looks at Effy it's like there's a “thank you” of her own sparkling in her blue eyes. It's like they're finally even now. Tit for tat. In a sense, they've dragged each other out of darkness. And Emily, well, it's obvious where she comes in. Without both these girls, Naomi wouldn't feel as she does now. And it's fucking Christmas, yeah? Time to share joy and love and gratitude and all that soppy bollocks. Effy breaks away first without a word and rejoins the others in taking more shots. As Naomi loosens her hold, Emily pulls back and chuckles.
“You get so emotional when you drink now,” she laughs.
Naomi mock-sneers and shoves the twin away from her. “Ugh, shut up.”
“No, it's nice,” Emily breathes. “You've changed, you know.”
The blonde raises a skeptical eyebrow in response, snorts and gazes at Michelle as she shot-guns a can of lager like a frat boy.
“I mean, you're obviously still a twat, just a softer one.”
Naomi shakes her head and smiles, elbowing Emily again. “And you're still a pest, just a slightly taller one.”
Emily nods with a grin. “Yep, twat.” She giggles at the playfully appalled look on Naomi's face and grabs her cup again, taking a sip leisurely. Naomi smiles too, and sighs, looking first at Emily, then at the crowd of people hovering around the coffee table with shots in their hands. Michelle looks up, over at the two of them before she catches her eye, and then she winks at her girlfriend with a mixture of both amusement and flirtatiousness. Yes, Naomi feels good.
At 6:29 AM Christmas Day, Naomi Campbell is fast asleep, and gently spooning a thin brunette. Effy breathes steadily into her pillow and curls up around Pato a little more. It had been all she had asked for from Naomi for her gift. They had done this ages ago when Effy had just come home from hospital. She, Tony and Anthea had all taken turns because Effy's paranoia about being crept up on by a killer had caused consecutive sleepless nights for everyone in the flat and this had been a way to quiet the fear. Eventually Effy healed and no longer needed the extra comfort, but every now and then it was still nice. So that was her single request to Naomi. Just Christmas Eve. It worked out well since Gina was occupying her bed anyway. However, at exactly half 6 in the morning, Naomi's mobile vibrates loudly on the night table. She rolls over quickly to silence it, only to see a familiar name in the caller ID.
“Hullo?” she whispers groggily into her phone.
“Happy Christmas!” Michelle's voice sounds far too alert for this ungodly hour.
Naomi tries and fails to repress a yawn. “Chelle? It's not even daylight yet,” she whispers adamantly.
“Happy Christmas to you too, Chelle,” the other girl supplies in Naomi's place. She shifts about trying not to wake Effy. Her attempts must fail cos all she hears is a quiet “Go.” come from the other side of the bed, and she smiles, places a quick kiss on Effy's temple and crawls out quickly and slips downstairs to speak slightly more freely. She pulls her legs up under her on the sofa after plugging in the fairy lights on the tree. It's lovely actually, the glow.
“What's going on?” Naomi finally asks, curious as to the nature of this still slightly unwelcome wake-up call.
The girl on the other end sounds out of breath, and tinny a bit like she's walking. Maybe she's wanking, Naomi thinks, and chuckles a little at the idea of Christmas morning phone sex at the crack of dawn. Then the thought really hits and she suddenly can't seem to focus on anything but the idea of Michelle touching herself, under a tree or some shit.
“Nothing.” Yes, out of breath. Wanking. Holy fuck. “My aunt left last night to go on her mini-break early.” Yep, home alone and everything. Then Naomi pauses.
“Wait, you're alone? You spent Christmas Eve alone?” Her heart that had previously been beating faster in anticipation of a little morning fun feels heavy now. She's alone on Christmas. “You should have called, you muppet. Could have stayed over here.”
There's a sound of disbelief on the other end of the line. “Where? On the sofa?” She laughs. “Yeah, that's much better.”
Naomi smiles even though she knows her girlfriend can't see it. “No, kick Tony out. Take his bed. Simple as.”
“Right.” She does sound out of breath; there's no mistaking it. Naomi yawns again, gathering her thoughts.
“Come over now.” It's a demand that Naomi has no difficulty making. She's sure Anthea won't mind in the least and it will be good for her own mum to spend some time with Michelle too. She barely knows her really. Sure, it Christmas and the time for family, but fuck it, Chelle is as good as family now. In a totally non-relative sort of way, of course. She hears a small sigh come through the phone.
“It's cold out.”
Naomi groans. As if she's been woken up for merely a chat. “What? Chelle, this is mental. Why did you ring so--?”
She's cut off before the question fully comes out. “Cos I didn't want to ring the bell and wake everyone, now did I?”
The words sink in quite quickly considering the time of the morning and Naomi's on her feet even faster. She pulls open the front door like she's expecting sodding Santa Claus and is met with a very cold looking girlfriend instead. She shakes her head in amused disbelief. Michelle had walked through the dark, in London, on Christmas morning all the way here. “Get inside, you stupid cow,” Naomi chides in mock disdain. The moment the door closes, she's pressed up against the wall and met with a wet, warm kiss of thanks. She pulls Michelle's jacket from her shoulders with a smile and hangs it on a hook. “Let's go make a brew.” Michelle drops her kit bag among the shoes in the hall and kicks off her UGGs, following behind Naomi, who busies herself instantly with filling the kettle. Michelle hovers in the doorway.
“I can't believe you made that whole walk in the night. You're actually mad, yeah?” She glances over at the brunette who's pulled her over-sized hoodie tight around herself. Her ridiculous penguin fleecy bottoms make Naomi smile. She actually came over in her pyjamas. How very uncharacteristic of pristine Michelle Richardson.
She shakes her head against Naomi's assertion. “No,” she sighs. “Not mad. Just lonely.” The blonde pins her hard with a stare. She knows that word. She knows the very important distinction between it and 'alone'. Lonely is so much worse. Naomi knew lonely all too well, and honestly hadn't felt very much of it since moving to London, and even less so since Michelle trampled down the stairs and into her life nearly 9 months ago. She knew being around other people wouldn't make you less lonely, just less alone. It was up to you to take care of the loneliness yourself. She twists the tap off and places the kettle in its stand and flicks the switch.
“Chelle...” she trails as she turns to look at her girlfriend again.
She's met with a reassuring smile. “It's fine, Nome.” What's she's not saying is more important. 'I'm here now. I'm with you. I'm better.' Naomi's known about this ability of hers in the past but to have it so blatantly shown to her, the power her own presence can have, is both incredibly scary and even more fulfilling. Michelle shrugs then. “Besides, I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, in person.” With a smooth sweep oh her arms, that bulky jumper is over her head and falls to the floor. Naomi just stands and stares, mouth half-open, maybe. She's completely unaware of her own body at the moment.
Her reaction doesn't make sense in a way. She's seen Michelle naked more times now than she can even fathom to count. Would like to believe she knows every inch of skin. Maybe it's the suddenness. Maybe it's the odd-timing, the strange day, the Christmas tree glowing in the room behind her. Maybe it's the juxtaposition of all these things plus how sexy she's obviously not really trying to be. Naomi's gaze rakes downwards, top to bottom. From Michelle's straight hair, tied messily into a loose bun, tendrils slipping out, her fringe casual, then down to the thin, white vest top that is obviously at least 2 sizes too small and rides up above her belly button. And then finally, those fucking pyjamas with their skiing cartoon penguins that hang low off her hips, and it's all very contradictory. And the worst or best part (Naomi can't decide which) is the bitch isn't even wearing a sodding bra. And, yeah, it's chilly in the kitchen this early in the winter morning.
“Jesus.” It's the only word that she seems capable of forming. It's far too much to process at this time of day. Michelle peers at her from half-lidded eyes and it's only making matters worse. But Naomi knows; knows Michelle is like this, knows what she's doing. She feeds on people's reactions to her; it makes her feel good to feel wanted. And really, who doesn't like to feel that way? It's times like these however that its a bit like a double-edged sword because Naomi doesn't think it's really necessary; she doubts herself and how much she's put into the relationship. Cascades of self-doubt fall upon her despite how much Michelle takes her breath away. Michelle should know, does know, doesn't she? She doesn't need to do this. Maybe it's just for reaffirmation. Naomi forgets about the kettle and the tea and whatever else and steps quickly to her girlfriend, who probably could wear dogshit and still be sexy.
She doesn't kiss her, not immediately. She leans closer to her ear instead. “How about for my gift, you put on your jumper when everyone else comes downstairs, yeah?” She can't stop her hands from sliding over exposed skin around her waist. Michelle is surprisingly warm for having been out in a December night for at least a half hour.
“Yeah, why's that?”
Naomi chuckles and sweeps her palms up over barely covered tits, tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric. She hears a sharp intake of breath in response. Point made. “People like Tony, they see this but they don't see the whole thing like I do. Too distracted.” Really, Naomi doesn't like sharing what's hers. She's an only child, stubborn, spoilt and needy deep down. And so is Chelle. Thoughts flicker to Emily, the only other serious relationship in her life and how there was always that struggle and she never felt she really had Emily to herself. Not ever, honestly. Michelle's different, and not just because she doesn't have an overbearing twin sister and perfect family. She doesn't like sharing any more than Naomi does and when she plays these games? Tricks perhaps, to keep Naomi there and aware. Fucking hell does it work. Funny thing is Naomi's also aware of the tricks herself, and it doesn't bother her. Greediness. Neediness. It all sounds so depressing and awful when formulated into words. It doesn't feel that way though.
“You don't have to do this you know,” Naomi says finally as she drags her lips along the soft, pliant and easily bruised skin of the other girl's neck, leaving her mark with a lovebite that makes Michelle's shoulders lurch for a moment. Naomi's hit with Effy's words from early last summer. You should tell her. Tell her. Naomi knows she doesn't tell her, not nearly enough cos it's just not who she is. Never will be. But it's Christmas and Michelle's presented herself like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped with her tongue. “I already love you. This. Everything. I already want you.” She feels two hands grip her cheeks and lips meet her own now. It's so fucking languid and fluid and just pulsates with force. She always forgets Michelle needs to hear the words sometimes.
“Really?” she asks when Naomi pulls away and the question is downright absurd. The blonde scoffs in disbelief.
“If I had a cock, trust me, I'd already be sodding ballsdeep inside you.” It's certainly not the most romantic thing she's ever said, but it's possibly one of the truest. In fact, she's pretty bloody lucky to even get away with saying shit like that to her girlfriend.
Michelle raises an eyebrow. “So why aren't you?”
Naomi smirks and sees it mirrored in the brunette's face as well. Without thinking, they've stumbled onto the sofa, lips crashing and Naomi tugging at the blue ribbon holding those goofy penguin bottoms up. There's one thing she's learnt about Michelle: she bases some sense of self-worth on how much she appeals to others, physically, sexually; she throws herself into things in this crude, abrupt way for attention, for love... but when she gives her body in this way, she is really giving you her soul to hold onto for a moment, maybe forever. It's the most fragile thing she owns. Tony, and any number of other insufferable boyfriends, hadn't even noticed this offering. It was carnal, passionate sure. But the trust not to break that soul, to take care of it, was never appreciated. Naomi knows what it's like to offer that to someone, romantically or platonicly, and have it broken, or have them steal it away like it was theirs to begin with anyway. She's careful now, both with her own and with others'. Especially Michelle's that had been so fractured and taken advantage of.
She knows she has Michelle's ultimate gift: trust. She'd been given that once before, and smashed it to pieces out of fear. It had been too much responsibility, too much belief in her. Too much meaning. And she's learnt from that. It's like gluing a crystal vase back together. It's possible to fix it somewhat but the cracks are there forever. It's never as strong again. This is a new vase, a new trust. She doesn't want to drop it.
And, in handing this over, Michelle had freed herself. It allowed her to receive love, understand it rather than just give it away wishfully and hopelessly on the whim of a charming boy. Far gone is what Tony had so crassly recounted, those tales of Michelle's inability to let go. Shutting her up is the harder part now. Sure, sometimes they still just fuck, plain and simple, but sometimes it's more. Naomi's not so fearful of meaning anymore. She's moving three fingers deep inside Michelle, in sure and knowing strokes whilst laying heavy kisses along the brunette's throat, her mouth. There's a point where Naomi has to seal their mouths together, and bites gently on Michelle's bottom lip. It's a small warning. The last thing Naomi wants to do is wake up the entire household. The front room doesn't have door. They don't have much leeway for noise. It's all a little for naught however because she knows her girlfriend is close already. She moves her thumb a little more insistently against the sensitive nub and suddenly Michelle is gasping almost silently; her legs clenching closer together. Even as Michelle's not quite finished cooling down, Naomi's ignoring her own want and already pulling up her girlfriend's trousers, just in case someone comes down. The absolute last thing she wants for Christmas is Tony Stonem to see them. Or her bloody mum. The brunette grins slyly as she ties up the ribbon.
“Don't get too comfortable,” she slurs and before Naomi has a real chance to interpret the remark, she finds herself flipped onto her back, right where Michelle had just been. Hazel eyes stare down at her in a predatory way. “Merry Christmas, Nome.”
If she had had the sense to object, or even the desire to, she's not sure she would have. Her own pj bottoms disappear somewhere, and one leg is over a shoulder. Michelle's tongue is already swirling purposefully through Naomi's folds, and Jesus Christ, is it the best Christmas morning ever. She spreads further and savours the feeling and tries her best not moan out loud. It's not as if this is an uncommon occurrence but just everything about the last few days has ended up perfectly and this is like the icing on top of more icing on top of a multi-layered cake. And the way Michelle's licking her out, she may as well be a wedding cake with double frosting. Her hips buck and grind and she clenches her mouth shut tightly, using the remaining vestiges of restraint she has. But she's not really sure what to make of it because she's coming in Michelle's mouth well before any real, substantial thoughts can pass through her completely mushy brain. She's literally gulping for breath and Michelle shimmies up her body, looking very happy with herself. Naomi takes a deep, long breath, grabs her trousers and pulls them up and falls back down exhaustedly onto the sofa, pressed close.
“Still want tea?” she breathes out.
Michelle shakes her head and curls around Naomi. “Nope, all warmed up now,” she mutters into the curve of the blonde's neck. Naomi sighs, pulls the blanket over them and fights the urge to fall asleep.
She doesn't succeed.
EPILOGUE PART II (ugh livejournal) >>