one6two6: (tel: skins :: ems - oic)
[personal profile] one6two6
Title: "Fear Ain't Too Grand"
Fandom: Skins
Characters: Cook, Emily
Rating: R for language
Word count: 428
Summary: Gen, strays from canon, takes place sometime after series 3. These kids need to talk about a few things.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of E4 and all its employees. This is a work of fiction for fiction and it couldn't be further from the intention of infringement if it tried.




Emily was caught standing out by the steps, arm crossed over her, shivering in the cold. She looked peeved and anxious at the same time. She was also alone.

Cook was walking by, also by himself, when he saw this. Frankly, he wasn't impressed and was going to keep walking, but at the last minute decided against it. He walked over to her.

"Hey Emily!" He drew out the syllables much longer than they were supposed to be.

"Cook. Hi." Emily said meekly. It's not that she was being shy, she was feigning disinterest, and Cook could see it.

"Aw, come now." He held out his arm to clasp her on the shoulder. "How 'bout you and me go knock back a few, eh?" He lowered his head and held her gaze. He said in a lower tone, "It looks like you need it. Badly." He let go of her shoulder and picked out a fag from his pocket. He began lighting it.

"How did you--"

"Just 'cos I don't give a fuck," he paused, "don't mean I'm blind." Momentarily, he searched her eyes for an answer.

She gave in with a soft sigh. "Sure. It's not like she's going to change her mind any time soon."

Cook assumed it was the taller bint giving Ems hell this time around and (one rare occasion on top of another) Cook inwardly thanked his lucky stars he was mostly a one-woman-man.


-


Two and a half beers and three consecutive shots of tequila later, Emily finds out that surprisingly, Cook is a good listener. The best she's ever had, if she was keeping track.

"It's just that--" Emily slurs her speech and takes a moment to croak out the rest of her sentence. "Why can't people just respond the way we want them to? What's so hard about staying?"

"Don't know, Em. Maybe all of it's hard. Maybe they're just choosing what matters over us," he lamented.

"You don't mean that. That isn't fair."

"Can't control everything." He downs another shot. Emily actually missed his obnoxious celebratory noise of alcoholic approval. She didn't like unexpected things.

"Wish I could," she muttered, looking down.

"No. You don't."

"And how would you know?" Emily contested.

"Babe, I know, because that would suck."

Emily sat back. She looked defeated, staring sadly at Cook. He cracked a smile. She frowned. "You know, this would be quite hilarious if we weren't so fucking pathetic."

His throaty laugh in response was impressively warm and inviting. "Welcome to my life," he said. It was a fact he'd accepted long ago, apparently.


--
End

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