LOST INSIDE A PATTERN.

Skins - AU - Emily and Naomi.

Disclaimer: This story is not written for profit, all characters within the Skins world belong to Brian Elsley, Jamie Brittain and channel 4. I make no legal claim to them, I write only for entertainment purposes.

Please Note: Most but not all of my locations for cafes / clubs / shops are not factual, it didn't work for the story, so hey, I changed things up!

This is an adult story – rated M - there will be swearing and intimate moments between two people of the same sex. If this offends your sensibilities then leave now, please. You have free will, so I don't particularly want you sending bigoted remarks my way because you continued past your comfort zone.

I accept anonymous reviews, and ask that you please remain respectful at all times. Constructive criticism is most welcome, but rudeness will not be tolerated.

Setting the stage: Naomi and Freddie work in a bookstore in Bristol, and count JJ and Cook as their friends. Through the course of the story, they meet Effy, Pandora, Thomas, Emily and Katie. Don't worry, it all happens pretty much at the stories beginning.

CHAPTER ONE.

It was a typical start to the morning. Nothing earth-shattering, no instant revelation that the day had a purpose beyond the others. It was disappointing in a way, Naomi thought, as she pulled herself out of bed. She was cynical by instinct, but still ...

"Shit!" Her inner dismay fell to pain as she rolled her ankle on an empty vodka bottle. "Fuck!" The pain increased at the same rate as her anger.

Naomi Campbell, twenty five and hung over. Actually, given the amount she consumed, she was probably still drunk. It was the same as the day before when she was Naomi Campbell and twenty four years old. The lightning bolt of maturity and wisdom didn't strike her overnight, nor was it showing itself now.

"Fucking happy birthday," she tossed into the mirror, her reflection unforgiving. Limping off to the shower, Naomi began to cultivate the personality she needed to get through the day.


"Happy birthday, sweetie," her mum dropped a quick kiss and pushed a hot coffee in front of her. That was the extent of the fanfare, her mother properly warned about making a fuss. If Naomi's reaction to her surprise party last year was any guide, her mother was best suited to treat this day as any other.

Ah, last year. Naomi scoffed, recalling the mess. She had rocked into the house, drunk and on some A-grade shit, with some random crew of people she'd met that night. Her mum had come from London, brought a cake and gift, and she'd left the very same night in tears, bemoaning something about her daughter wasting her life away.

"Love, what happened to your foot?" Gina couldn't help but notice the swelling around Naomi's ankle.

"Fucking twisted it or something," Naomi replied in a muffled tone, not interested in the concern.

"Best put a pack on it, get that swelling down," Gina suggested as she poked her head into the freezer.

Naomi said nothing, just waited for her mother to fix everything. There was no protest, no harsh words. Truth of the matter was the ankle hurt like a fucking bitch.

"Here you go, love," Gina smiled as she placed the cold towel on Naomi's ankle.

"Might need a x-ray or something," she shrugged at Naomi's silent question.

"Yeah. Maybe." Naomi replied.

Gina knew that was all she was going to get from her daughter these days, so she left the kitchen. That suited Naomi just fine. She wanted to be alone, it was a mode she knew best. Given how much life fucking sucked, it was a comfort to know her mother had almost stopped trying.


"He said it had to be done today, but fuck knows why. He's such a fucking slave driver," Naomi's colleague, Tracy, complained in between puffs of her menthol cigarette. Her long peroxide hair looked scraggy as usual, and her tight clothing exposed her bra sausage and other unattractive parts, Naomi thought silently. She wasn't adverse to peoples weight and appearance, but Tracy was an all-over slob. The work their boss, Freddie, had asked her to do was pretty rudimentary: unpack the latest batch of magazines and put them on the shelves. And, Naomi wanted to say, he had asked her to do it all last week too, but she seemed to take two weeks to do one simple task.

Freddie McClair was one of the few people Naomi actually liked spending time with. He was around the same age as her, but he had applied himself through his schooling much better than most. His mothers death had really shaken him up, and his fragile relationship with his father and sister, Karen had caused him to focus on getting good marks and fucking out of his house at the first chance he got. Which lead he and Naomi to fall into a job at a small, yet profitable, bookstore in the rejuvenated city centre of Bristol. It was nestled in-between yet another upscale restaurant that operated as a cafe during the day, and an information booth for tourists.

Freddie soon took on more responsibility when the owner remarried a woman much younger than himself and took an extended honeymoon – two years and counting – while Naomi became his second-in-charge. Naomi's interest layed in "fucking useless causes" as Freddie mocked good naturedly: social justice and the environment with a splash of politics just for fun.

"Shit, I've gotta get those fucking mags in," Tracy dashed inside as she heard Freddie enter through the side door. Naomi just watched her, shaking her head. One of the frustrating things about their jet-setting owner, his sister was part of the deal so they couldn't fire her.

"Hey," Naomi smiled slightly as she watched him reach for something in his leather messenger bag, a gift from her when he began taking over the store.

"Hey. Happy birthday," Freddie pulled her into a quick hug, handing over a small box.

"Fred," Naomi warned, knowing he would get her a gift regardless of her protesting.

"Just fucking open it, will ya?"

Naomi grinned, pulling the lid off. Inside was a framed photo of her, Freddie, Cook and JJ. It was a lovely photo, actually. All four were laughing, well JJ was smiling confused, but it still perfectly captured them. Cook's head was rocking backwards and his hands were thrust into the pockets of his jacket. Freddie's eyes were sparkling, a sure indication of happiness and Naomi who was usually so reserved, was beaming at her three best boys.

"Thanks Freds," Naomi kissed cheek, carefully putting the box under the desk at the register.

"It's a fucking great snap," Freddie smiled sadly.

"Yeah," Naomi nodded, knowing he was referring to Cook, who, for another two months, was in prison. Assault. They missed his brashness, his cockiness and even his recklessness, and it was hard to see JJ so upset at the mere mention of his name. Poor JJ, thought Naomi. People picked on him less when James Cook was around. Being diagnosed Asperger's was hard enough at the best of times when people were looking for a reason to be a fucking prick to you, but without his protector it was more difficult. She and Freddie did their best to stop the taunts, but they just didn't have the fear factor like Cook. He still blamed himself for where Cook was too, though he seldom admitted that as if by repetition it would become something Cook would blame him for too, though everyone knew it would never happen. They were – JJ in particular – all the family James Cook had.

It meant JJ stayed home a lot more, falling into his moods with deeper concern, and he'd only go out if it was to Keith's pub, because Cook's standing was still alive and kicking there.

"We going to Keith's tonight?" Naomi suggested, though she really wanted very little fanfare. She shook off her jacket and began her daily routine. She actually enjoyed this job, but a lot of had to do with the older clientele and one of her best mates working alongside her than anything else.

"I'll ring JJ. He'll love that," Freddie smiled, walking off to the stock room, thinking his blonde friend really needed to carry less of the world on her shoulders.


Naomi was chatting with Norm, a seventy-odd year old regular who came in more for the company than book purchasing when Freddie tried to catch her attention. It either meant she'd skipped her lunch break – again – or there was a hot bird he wanted her to look over for him. In many ways Mr. Professional was still led around by his cock, but Naomi didn't mind most of the time because she wanted Freddie to move on from the crazy bitches he'd gone out with over the years, onto someone a bit more mature.

"Will you excuse me, Norm?" Naomi smiled, leaving him with his cup of tea and book on the parliamentary system. Walking over to Freddie, she quickly spotted who he was desperately trying not to stare at. She was a few years younger than them, Naomi guessed, with a long ponytail and garish poly-blend pants. When she found the novel she was after, she exclaimed, "whizzer!" before blushing, realising she had been quite loud.

"Not exactly your type," Naomi whispered sarcastically.

"Not her. Her. Effy, from college" Freddie shook his head to the right.

Naomi had to almost stretch across the register but once he said her name, she knew who to look for. She was still thin, her dark brown hair falling past her shoulders. She seemed more intense than the times she had seen her at college, Naomi could gather that solely from her body language. She always looked like she didn't much care about anything, but Naomi knew that kind of front only meant she had a whole heap of fucked-up turmoil swirling around inside her. She knew that because she fronted up as a different person all the time and she recognized the signs.

"No," was all Naomi said.

"No? Come on, she's stunning," Freddie moaned, sounding like his seventeen year old self.

"She's a mess," Naomi said, walking off. She knew Freddie was going to invite her to the pub tonight with or without her blessing, so it didn't do her sanity much help hanging around.

Freddie grinned, not even looking at his friend, Effy had his complete attention.

TBC ...

Reviews would be welcomed with hot tea or coffee and maybe a biscuit.