Author's Note: Hello, all! I'm new to the Naomily fan fiction scene, and am actually quite scared about putting this out, since I've had writer's block for about a year now and this is the first thing I've been able to write.

This story is based on true events, but sadly I have nothing to do with skins, nor do I own these characters.

Stranded

Chapter 1: Rusty French and Cigarettes

"You just don't understand," I pleaded, as I ran my fingers roughly through my short blonde hair. "I need to get to Heathrow tonight!"

The airline representative smiled tightly at me. "I understand that, madame, but there is nothing I can do. Heathrow is closed and may re-open tomorrow morning. We will send you to a hotel in the meantime, and will give the hotel your flight information as soon as we can figure everything out. You have to understand... there are 1500 other passengers from three separate flights here that we are dealing with who all need to get to London tonight." She spoke with a thick French accent, which made her words sound much more harsh than what they truly were.

"Fine," I said, completely dejected and feeling the weight of pure exhaustion on my shoulders. She fussed about with a few papers and wrote down my hotel room number on the back of a card for me.

I had been on the red-eye from Toronto to London, an eight hour long flight. An hour before we were supposed to land, the pilot announced that London Heathrow was closed due to a snow storm, and that we were being diverted to Paris. I didn't fall asleep on the plane, was too uncomfortable to even contemplate it. At first we were told that we would just stay on the plane for 45 minutes or so while we waited for Heathrow to open back up, but eventually everything went tits up and they told us to get off the plane and speak to an airline representative to find out what we were supposed to do next. So here I was, being shipped off to Euro Disney in a bloody blizzard and was being forced to share a hotel room with a complete stranger because rooming up was the only way we'd all be able to stay in one location, and as I was so pleasantly reminded, there were 1500 other passengers that the airline had to deal with and that I should stop making such a fuss.

Normally, I wouldn't be making such a fuss. Normally, I would have thought to bring my credit cards with me. Normally, I wouldn't have hesitated to change my Canadian Dollars into Euros. But this time, I didn't bring my credit cards – they were awaiting my return safely in my apartment in Bristol. And this time, Currency Exchange was closed when I reached Charles DeGaulle airport.

I was shit outta luck.

I grabbed all my bags and huffed and puffed my way through the crowd of other frustrated travellers and made my way into the blizzard outside as I queued up to wait for the Coach Bus to take me to fucking Euro Disney. In a fucking blizzard. Hoo-fucking-ray.

I didn't even know who my roommate was supposed to be yet. They gave us room numbers and told us to try to found our roommate on the bus or at the lobby in the hotel. But I didn't give a fuck at that point. All I cared about was trying to use my rusty French to bum a cigarette off a copper standing next to me.

"Excuse moi, monsieur, mais puis-je err...emprunter une cigarette?" I asked as the copper laughed his ass off at me.

"I speak English, miss," he laughed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. "But yes, you may 'borrow' a cigarette." He laughed even harder as he placed the cigarette between my lips and lit it for me. "Au revoir!" He called out as he walked away.

I smiled to myself and puffed away happily on my cigarette, even though I was freezing my fucking ass off in France waiting around for a coach bus, and I was pretty sure I just got made fun of by a Frenchman. At least I was still smiling. The people around me didn't seemed too worried about being stranded in Paris – two women near me had found a wine shop and bought a few bottles and had plastic cups sitting next to them. They were sitting on their suitcases and laughing their asses off as they sipped on their chardonnay. Maybe if I wasn't such a miserable bitch I could be as carefree as they were.

"'Scuse me, coming through," a tired, distinctly feminine yet husky voice called out nearby. She had her head down, and a blue knit cap on her head, covering her bright red hair, and was pushing through the crowd, seemingly headed my way. She stopped right in front of me and looked up for the first time, her brown eyes gazing into mine. She was breathtaking, to say the least.

"Can I bum a fag? Fucking security assholes at Pearson confiscated mine," she said, shuffling about awkwardly.

"I haven't got any more, sorry. Had to bum this one off a French copper. But you can finish this off if you like," I said as I handed her the cigarette. She smiled her thanks and stood next to me.

"Well, right fucking party this is," she said sarcastically and I laughed. "What room are you staying in?" She asked, peering up at me once again.

"Room 327, you?"

"I guess we're roommates," she said as she took a deep drag from the cigarette. "Let's hope the hotel sells cigarettes."

"It's owned by Disney, so it's not bloody likely," I said, a hint of sadness to my voice. She looked up at me with a smile in her eyes.

"Yes, but this is France. I just walked by a 10 year old smoking and selling newspapers." She said, exhaling and letting the cigarette smoke waft around us. "I'm Emily," she said with a smile and held out her hand for me to shake.

"Naomi." I shook her hand and smiled warmly at her. The bus pulled up as we were standing there like two fools, smiling at each other.

"Well, Naomi, this will be a bloody adventure, won't it?"

I laughed and nodded as I couldn't help but think that it already was quite the adventure. From the look in Emily's eyes, the curiosity and playfulness that I saw, I could tell it was only going to get better. Or at least, I could only hope that it was going to get better.

Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave me a review and let me know what you thought :)