one6two6: (mov: serenity :: shep)
[personal profile] one6two6
Title: "Lengths I'd Go and Pack Away"
Fandom: Skins
Characters: Cook, Katie, mention of an OC
Rating: R for language and slight sexual implications
Word count: 1,035
Summary: Set in another timeline, way after college. Paths cross, pasts get dug up, and new paths are formed.
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.




He'd been walking home from working at the barge, the port quickly becoming his second home, when he notices an unlikely Fitch waiting on a park bench by her lonesome.

He decides to do what he does best and walks over to her, smirk at the ready. The girl is looking fit.

"Katiekins! How you be on this fine day?"

"Are you kidding, the day's miserable." She glared daggers at him. He could tell he wasn't wanted, but it was something he was used to. So, obviously, he continued.

"Seriously then. You should get out of here. You, me, a few drinks, yeah?"

"You really think it's time to get trashed right now?" she asked incredulously. He raised his eyebrows in reply. She ended up acquiescing. "Oh, all right." He grinned widely and Katie tucked her hands in her trench coat pockets before getting up. "But just a pint or so, yeah?"

"Sure thing."


-


Just a few hours into drinking at the pub, the air between them dulled and gravity struck.

Cook stared intently at Katie who was sitting despondently across from him. Less than a foot really, but it felt like miles. Who were they at this point? With jobs and all?

"Why you nursing it?" he asked tight-lipped.

"What?"

"Your drink." He nodded in its direction. "It's been un-drank."

She looks at it. "Oh, well, Eric's going to be getting out of work soon, and I'm meeting up with him later."

"And?"

"And what?"

"He forcing you to be a self-loathing non-drinker?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Nervous laughter bubbled up from her throat. "I just haven't known him that long is all," she added. The edginess wasn't hard to pick up on.

"How long?"

"About eight weeks."

"Fucking hell, it's been at least an hour and I already despise what this wankjob's done to you."

"Done to me? What do you care?"

"Because, Katie, you once told me a gang lord's party wasn't even a party. That it wasn't even close."

"That was a long time ago."

"Gangs, Katie. There were two of them. Did you forget?"

"Well, what do you expect from me, massive stories and the like? Describing party fun?"

"That'll do for a start, surely."

"Wha--" she scoffed. A massive eye-roll followed. "Cheers then, you fuck." She nearly chugged her entire drink right then and there.

"I hope you know how many shots of vodka were in that," he suggested, slightly taken aback.

"I do have a working tongue, thank you."

Cook perked up his eyebrows. "Wanna give it a go?" He grinned. She didn't.

"You serious?"

"Nah, just old habits."

"You know .." She trailed off, but her look was just suggestive enough that Cook immediately jumped to, leaning forward on the table and resting his elbows there.

"This Eric fucker. He a strong git?"

No protest, still. "No, not really. I mean, I met him at work. How strong can he be?" She paused. "Why?"

Cook took his time, taking in what he was about to embark on. "My place or yours?"


-


After some time, they were finally able to let out a few words from in between their heavily involved physical activities they were engrossed in before. Sex really did become exhausting after a certain age. He wasn't about to admit that though. Ever.

"Honestly, Katie fucking Fitch--it's still Fitch, right?" She nodded. He went on, "You're making me hate life less and less." they were lying on their backs, catching their breaths and looking up at the ceiling.

"Good. I've always wanted to be a force of benevolence," she quipped.

He turned to kiss her bare shoulder. "You." He looked at her. "Are a deity. Don't be modest." He enunciated his last statement with a light shake of his head, baring his teeth in a gentle manner. He was readying for an attack from her, verbal or otherwise, when he began to recognize something wholly inscrutable on her face face, something kept hidden, when the phone rang.

"Fuck's sake." She shifted to the other side to reach for it. "It's Eric." Her expression turned grave.

"Didn't he get the hint? Or does he not get what being stood up implies?" The ringing stopped.

"How did I miss five straight calls?" she exclaimed, voice raspy.

"What, you didn't hear it? Can't say I'm not impressed by your vocal range, babe."

"That what you call a sense of humor?" She put the phone back and lied down. "Ugh, you and Freddie are completely alike," she huffed out, exasperated.

"Don't know about that. I still enjoy shagging women." He casually put one hand behind his head.

"You mean--" She turned over to rest on her elbows, suddenly excited all over again.

"Puts the knob is the arse, last I heard."

She stared at him hard, mouth agape. Cook couldn't resist an opportunity for a joke. "Are you imagining it?"

"No, I--fuck off." Her voice turned a few pitches down, but it lacked bitterness.

"Better to fuck you though, innit?"

"Should watch out, you might turn gay."

"Impossible feat, that. Besides, the thing with Freddie's probably my fault."

"This can't get any worse."

"It's not like that. I just think he was in love with me."

"Arrogant prick," Katie retorted. He pointed his finger at her in return.

"Which is exactly his type. Except his boy now is absolutely nothing like I am. Took him a few tries, but once he found him, I said to him that sod could possibly blow bubbles out his righteous arse and they'd be fucking pink, yeah?"

"Are we really discussing Freddie McLair's love life naked? In my bedroom?"

"Well, I think," he moved a part of Katie's fringe, sweat now almost dry, out of her eyes. "My room's a bit cramped for that, don't you?" His words betrayed his shockingly intimate gesture. Katie wanted to bite back, with words of course, but her resolve was melting by the second. So she just hung her head and laughed inwardly to herself. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Never doubt my logic." He leaned in for a kiss, clearly adhering to the apparent magnetism growing between the two. She pulled back before relenting for a bit. "Always doubt your logic," she countered.

"Whatever."

They spent the rest of the day comfortably reclined (and sometimes semi-upright), pleasantly learning each other's quirks in the process. Undoubtedly, it was one of Cook's more enjoyable bed-ins.


--
End
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