A/N: Consider this an early Christmas present for all you awesome readers, okay? And maybe I'll be responsible and update again before the calendar turns. We'll see. Irma, marsupial, I'm at it again; I'm not that sorry. Thank you so much for all the incredible reviews to the last chapter. Also, I've been incredibly blessed this year in getting to know some absolutely outstanding writers this year, so while I'm sure most everyone has read and finished TBWITB by now, if you're not reading stuff by fragrantlily and mswitsend, that's foolishness. (wit: I'm pretty sure I got some basic stuff right, but it's been a long time and I'm counting on you to hold me accountable this chapter and the next couple, please). Amp; glad you're still with me on this as well. And I'd be remiss if I didn't give a shout-out to the guest reviewer/swimmer. Welcome to the best fandom around and I hope the swimming descriptions continue to do it justice.
Now, I'll get out of my own way and let you all enjoy a FFD and some shenanigans. Swimming's coming back with a vengeance in Ch12-hold tight! I don't own 'Skins.'
The kitchen smelled like the inside of the locker within which a careless teammate left their sweaty dry land clothes, a wet towel, and four banana peels when they broke their foot and couldn't compete for six months. Instantly revolted, Katie gagged and turned around, finding herself trapped in the doorway by her mother.
"Something wrong, Katiekins?"
The eldest Fitch child swallowed with difficulty and winced a smile. "Have to use the loo, mum."
"Well, hurry up and wash your hands when you're done; you two're already late," Jenna Fitch stepped aside, allowing Katie to seek refuge in the small hall powder room. Katie shot a quick, apologetic look at Emily as she shut the door to block the thoughts of her mother—and the smell—from following her.
Left alone, Emily hesitantly stepped into the dining area; the table already set for five waited coldly. Nevertheless, the massive form of her father rose from his seat at the head of the table to greet her with the warmest smile she'd seen from him in a long time.
"Emily, luv."
"Hi, Dad," she smiled in return, embracing him. She looked up as he released her and placed strong hands on her shoulders, gripped her arms.
"You've been lifting more. I always say—"
Emily nodded, amused. "'Reps, reps, reps,' I know. Coach Darrick's made it a point of emphasis for us breastrokers leading up to the World Championships."
"As he should!" Rob Fitch grinned toothily and stepped past Emily to pour himself a glass of wine. "How do you think they will go, Emsy?"
"Worlds?" she asked in clarifying. He nodded, glancing at his wife who seemed to be half-listening as she plated their dinner. Emily took her seat, her back to her mother as her father returned to his seat. Emily locked eyes with her father. "I'm...not sure."
The door to the loo opened and Katie strutted to her seat, her features pinched by the effort to will away the horrendous smells perfuming the house. She caught Emily's clarifying response and hesitancy to commit to a good outcome at their upcoming meet; the older twin contributed her thoughts as she sat down on the far side of the table from Emily, one spot closer to her mother as was customary. "We're not even tapering completely for it; Darrick thinks we'll get more out of a full one in December for short course and the Duel."
"Right, the Duel in the Pool is over here, innit?" Rob looked over at his wife. "Did you hear that, Jenna? It's in..."
"Glasgow, right before Christmas," supplied Katie as she looked down at the table. Her efforts to ignore her mother were unnecessary, however: Jenna barely acknowledged them as she finished situating the meal on each plate.
"I think we can make it up for that. Maybe see if Gran can make it."
"So long as the girls don't embarrass us again like they did the last time we brought our parents to a meet," Jenna said in a level voice. The underlying threat—and reminder of their failure in London the previous year—lingered uncomfortably in the air for several moments. Emily looked diagonally across the table at almost-identical brown eyes that reflected the same anguish, regret, and simmering frustration that their mother could not suffer five minutes without eviscerating their self-confidence or undercutting their accomplishments. The matriarch of the Fitch family eventually cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and began ferrying plate after plate to the table. "James, get down here!"
Heavy footfalls moved down the front stairs as the twins' younger brother attempted to express his unhappiness with being interrupted mid-Playstation session. He made a gagging sound as he entered the dining area and pulled back the chair next to Emily.
"It smells like someone dumped rubbish in a pot." James saw the thin spongy yellow cake on his plate covered in a lumpy cream-colored sauce and scrunched up his face. "Uh, why did someone wank off on a mushy banana and put it on the table?"
"Rob!" Jenna screeched as the twins both covered their smiles and looked away.
"Watch your tongue, boy,"
"Is that not what it looks like?" James argued, picking up the plate slightly and displaying it for the table.
His mother stuck up her chin. "It's a durian pancake with blended sardine sour cream and a roots and herbs salad."
Katie poked at her helping; meanwhile, Emily hesitantly nibbled on a sharp-leaved green and a crunchy, pale slice of what she could only imagine was the 'root' portion of the salad. She repressed a shudder and swallowed it down. Her older sister, on the other hand, fared less successfully at starting out the meal tactfully.
"Mum, like, I'm sure this is in a healthy cookbook somewhere, but, where's the protein? We're competing in weeks, yeah, and we're supposed to be at an 8k caloric intake."
Jenna paused, chewing a miniscule bite of her pancake. She swallowed, dabbed at the edges of her lips and pressed them into a thin line. Her eyebrows narrowed. "Are you suggesting I don't have the best intentions for your nutrition in mind?"
Katie rose to the challenge despite her twin's imploring look across the table. She rolled her eyes extravagantly and threw her hands up. "That's not at all what I said! Shit, Jesus."
A sharp inhalation silenced the room. In a low tone, Jenna replied, "You could be a little more grateful, Katherine."
"Mum, Katie's not ungrateful. Neither of us are. We just want to be in peak form."
"And I suppose you were in peak form when you got your sister and the rest of your relay disqualified at the Olympics, hmm?" Jenna leaned forward; Emily's eyes sunk to her lap. "Do you know what your father and I sacrificed to make sure the two of you—"
"Hey!" protested James.
"—And you too, sure, dear—had the best opportunities to succeed. Your father and I had to make our own way to get that far when we were competing. You two don't..." She shook her head and looked to her left at Katie. "You're very lucky Katie was at least able to medal in her individual event."
"I'm lucky?!" Emily shouted, her voice wavering. The corners of her eyes welled up with salty tears. Angrily, she looked between both parents. "Don't you know how much that relay affects me every time I get in the water? I hated that I ruined our chance—in front of a home crowd, not to mention Chelle's last race. Can't you just say something supportive to either of us, just once?"
Emily stood up, furiously swiping a hand across damp cheeks. She extended her palm across the table. "Can I have the keys, Katie?"
"You sit back down at this table, right now, Emily," demanded her mother.
"They're in the dish by the door," her twin supplied with a nod in the direction of the hall.
"Let her go, luv," Rob Fitch said simultaneously as Emily rushed from the room. The front door slammed shut and an uncomfortable silence returned to the meal.
"Please go get her, Katie."
"No, Mum." She turned to the women on her right. Jenna blinked in surprise at the blatant refusal to acquiesce to her demands. "Emily works harder than anyone else on the team. We see it; Coach sees it. You just tore her to shreds; I'm not getting her. 'Sides, if it wasn't for Emily, we'd never have gotten an upgrade over Michelle."
The words were out before Katie grasped that the conversation shifted. Her eyes widened and, without considering the consequences, shoved a massive piece of pancake and cream into her mouth. A nauseous wave crashed through her digestive system at the smell and flavor; she gagged and grabbed for a glass of water. Her own voice bubbled to the top of her conscience, repeating the reassuring phrase the twins clung to as they arrived home; she steeled herself for Jenna's response.
"You've got a new teammate? I bet she's fit as fuck; swim girls are always fit," James said solemnly. Katie lunged across the table in frustration, but her younger brother pushed his chair backwards out of reach.
"What did I say about that word? Ten reps. Go." scolded Rob as Jenna stared intently at her blushing daughter. James shoved back from the table and slunk over to the pull up bar wedged into the doorway.
The youngest Fitch groaned loudly, but muttered, "All I said was 'fit.'"
"Not that word!"
Jenna's focus, though, rested with Katie's final comment. "What do you mean, 'if it weren't for Emily?' She's not..."
"Not what, Mum?" Katie turned back to her mother, the rage about her mother's earlier comments returning in full. "Just say it."
Jenna turned up her nose and made a haughty sound. "Conspiring to ruin my daughter's focus on her career and on her traditional values. If it wasn't for that horrid girl, maybe Emily would have performed better in Shanghai. You need to look out for her; she's not as mature as you."
Katie scoffed. "You're having a laugh. Do you even know your own daughters?" She looked between her parents as James struggled to complete his reps in between her and her route of escape from this childhood prison of a home. "This isn't a conversation you need to have with me; it's one you should have with her. If you can be civil. All you need to worry about, Mum, is that we have a new teammate and Emily's her only friend—and she's honestly an improvement on Michelle, so just be happy for us, for once?"
The eldest Fitch child pushed back from the table and quickly sidled between the chest along the side wall and her mother's seat. Katie bumped James out of the way; he tumbled to the ground, catching himself amid a flurry of choice words for his older sister, her response of 'Fuck off, worm,' drowned out by the slamming of the front door.
Emily looked up sharply as the driver's side door opened, the dome light flicked on, and Katie slipped into the seat, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. The keys swayed from the ignition; the local pop radio station emitted Frank Turner's newest single into the car. The yellow interior light faded gradually, leaving the sisters in the darkness of the car with only the red glow of knobs and buttons to illuminate the car.
"She tried to have a go about—"
"I'm sure she did," replied Emily bitterly, knowing where Katie was taking the conversation before she arrived. "Look, can we just go?"
"You got it," agreed Katie as she put the car in gear and slowly pulled away. Neither bothered glancing back to see Jenna letting the drapes flutter back into place as they departed.
There was a buzz to the city, an infectious undercurrent throbbing through the streets, off the stirring buildings with their diverse façades; reverberating from the rooftops encapsulating the park; stalking along the tables of cafés beneath palm trees swaying in the salty breeze. A giant sculpture of a black cat prowled the opposite side of the stone plaza in the twilight. Street music wheedled up and down the Rambla del Raval.
"Fuck me, that's a big pussy," commented Cook, awe-struck. A chorus of groans rose around him and he spun, backpedaling from the group. "Ah, c'mon, mates! Just a joke."
"That only a thirteen year old would find amusing," retorted Katie (Effy flashed ten fingers as a counter and they both got the bird from their brash teammate) as the older twin pointed at a jumble of table and chairs spilling out onto the stone walk, most of which were still empty. "I think we can all fit there."
Freddie nodded and motioned for JJ to join him in hurrying over to push three tables together. The curly-haired team manager set to the task with fervor; as the rest of the teammates arrived at the tables, Emily gently grabbed his elbow at noticing his repeated counting of the seats around the several tables. "There's enough, Jay. It's alright."
"Right. Just...never mind. Think it's residual stress from the flight." He scratched his head. "I could use a soda right now."
"Uh, sorry? 'A soda?'" mocked Katie from across the circular teal-and-purple tiled table. She flagged down a server. "If we're drinking and have events in two days, then you're not getting off that easy...Hi, uh," She did a quick headcount. "Four pitchers of sangria please."
"But you know I don't drink! We're in a foreign country and alcohol can decrease the effectiveness of the immune system for up to 24 hours and...I don't really want to get sick. I'm healthy and you all should want to be healthy too, if you're serious about competing and—"
"It's just like fruit juice," justified Freddie with a shake of his head. "You won't even believe it."
"That's what I'm afraid of," JJ grumbled as two servers returned with the ordered pitchers and a wobbly stack of plastic cups.
"I'll look out for you, Jay," whispered Emily as she took a cup and passed the stack on to the unsure teen next to her. "But you don't have to."
He chewed his lip and finally took a cup to a wave of cheers. He smiled sheepishly and allowed Effy to silently pour him a glass. At the far end of the table, Cook finished his entire cup in one long gulp, smacking his lips at the end and reaching for the nearest pitcher.
"So, since we're in Spain, looks like we need some shots of—"
"Please don't say tequila," whispered Emily.
Her friend grinned triumphantly. "Now that you mention it..."
Naomi finished a long drink of sangria and leaned forward, bewildered. "Cook, you do know that tequila comes from the agave plant, which is native to México?"
"So? I'm confused." He drained half another glass of sangria.
"We're in España."
"They both speak Spanish," protested Cook.
Ignoring Naomi's judgmental look, he clasped Katie on the shoulder, much to her visible displeasure. "You'll join me in doing tequila shots, won't you Katie?"
"Uh, like fuck I will. We have practice in the morning." She waggled her nearly empty cup of sangria. "I'll stick with the fruit juice tonight."
"Yous are no fun. We're at least eating, right?" The server overhead the question as she walked past from a different table and paused pointedly. Cook looked around and shrugged. "So, d'you have, like, fish and chips or..."
"Fucking hell," interjected his blonde teammate with a roll of her eyes. "Dos paellas, por favor."
The waiter smiled warmly and nodded before heading into the small restaurant. Emily felt a tingle ripple down her spine; she hastily downed what remained of her sangria and poured herself another glass. Unwittingly, she looked up and found a knowing smirk meeting her gaze. Emily broke eye contact with Effy as quickly as it was made and awkwardly looked around them at the scene of Barcelona in the evening.
Three hours later—Cook shoving JJ and Freddie deeper into the warren of streets in El Raval in search of a bar in which to properly ring in the World Championships—and their stomachs filled with rice, seafood, and beans, Effy herded the ladies in the complete opposite direction towards the hotel. Emily had one arm loosely draped over her sister's shoulders as they weaved amicably along a cobblestone street hardly wide enough for one auto. Naomi took careful steps, repeating a mantra of 'walk in a straight line, walk in a straight line, walk in a (stumble) straight line, shit,' under her breath as she trailed the trio. They stumbled along through an intersection; Emily happened to look up to her right and let her arm drop from Katie's shoulder.
"Shit, Ef. I don't think so, babes," chided Katie simultaneously as her teammate attempted to walk up to a local and drag her finger along his jaw. Effy protested, but Katie steered her further along the street and past the empty entrance of a police station nestled into the building between an electronics store and a hookah lounge, the alluring aromas wafting into the night. Effy turned her face towards them, inhaled, and let her head loll onto Katie's shoulder.
"Let's stop."
"Fat chance. We're getting you back to the flat. No sense in Darrick taking more than his pound of flesh in the morning, yeah?"
Effy patted Katie on the arm as if she was moving through molasses. "So wise."
"Fucking sangria," the twin whispered as she nudged Effy along towards the apartment hotel the national team—and the teams of a half dozen smaller nations—chose for housing during the World Championships.
Behind them, Emily stood rooted in the T-shaped intersection, her attention entirely devoted to a massive abstract mural painted on the side of a building; two spotlights inlayed into the sidewalk illuminated the piece. Geometric shapes in a rainbow of colors interwove across the stone and plaster, wrapping onto a short wall up the side street. She tilted her head to the side as a presence hovered just over her shoulder.
"Does that look like a fork coming out of a chemistry set to you?" she asked to Naomi without turning towards her teammate.
"More like a swimming pool with the lane stripes on MDMA...and an Irish dartboard," the blonde mused.
Emily laughed freely and nodded. "I can see that." She snapped her attention across the street to a ramp. "Where d'you think that goes?"
"Well," Naomi linked her arm through Emily's and set off for the switchbacking ramp. "Shall we take a detour?"
"We shall," replied Emily, looking up enraptured as they crossed the street. After a moment, she looked down in embarrassment. What are you doing, Emily?
The two teens reached the top of the ramp and followed the walk as it curved in a semicircle around a copse of trees and the barely-intact ancient structure of a monastery that pre-dated the Middle Ages. They walked slowly, Emily's inner monologue rebounding between a sangria-fueled pole insisting she take advantage of this opportunity to be alone with Naomi while she had the chance—in Barcelona of all places—and the other, nearly marginalized, rational part shouting that they go back to the hotel immediately.
"Sant Pau del Camp," intoned Naomi, once again her voice sounding so foreign to Emily's ear in the best way possible.
"Mmm, sorry?"
"The monastery," the taller girl clarified. She pointed at the informational post to their right as they wandered past it.
"'12th Century!' Emily exclaimed as she caught a bit of information for herself. She looked up at Naomi, worried. "Did they have sangria then?"
"Haven't the foggiest." She pointed out a bar on the other side of the park as they approached the edge of the urban green space. "That's one bar where Cook'd feel right at home, no?"
Emily squinted, leaning into Naomi's personal space as she peered into the darkness. Four words dripped like spilled blood across the establishment in question's black canopy: Hell Awaits Metal Bar. "Good catch, Naoms. We'll have to..."
Naomi tensed, freezing in place; she closed her eyes. There it was again, just as she'd let slip after practice some weeks earlier. How can she make me feel so much with just a nickname?
"Alright?" Emily asked slowly.
Naomi exhaled and smirked. She squinted down at Emily, one eye shut as if pronouncing something profound. "You're drunk on sangria."
Emily laughed and tugged them both forward. "Yes. I am. And you are, too."
"Am not!" Naomi protested a bit too loudly. "I'll tell you, Ems, it takes more than just a couple small glasses of...what's wrong with you?"
The brunette had frozen in place on the kerb as Naomi stepped into the one-way street, heart rate accelerating madly at how casually the affectionate name rolled off her teammate's tongue. It's criminal; maybe she'll say it with some Spanish later...no!
"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Emily smiled and linked their arms again, struggling to pretend everything was fine. The crossed the street and suddenly found themselves at the edge of a wide avenue spearing directly west and east into the night. "It's to the right, innit?"
"Right you are!" Naomi turned them and led them in a deft weave around locals dispensing from flats and small theatres and restaurants heading off to their next destination to kick their nights off properly along the Avinguda del Paral•lel. After a block of maneuvering amidst giggles and hastily pronounced judgments against those that bumped into them unnecessarily, the girls found themselves entering the lobby of the apartments.
An assistant coach lounged on a love seat to one side of the lobby, noting on a clipboard as each team member wandered through the entry towards the bank of elevators at the other side of the entrance. They waved and he flipped a hand up in greeting—the absolute bare minimum of a response. Naomi pressed the button and let out a small, shrill noise as the car behind them chimed immediately.
"What was that?" Emily demanded with a disbelieving laugh as they entered the elevator and Naomi selected their floor.
"I don't know what you're on about, Emily."
"That little, 'eep.'"
"I make no such sounds!" The blonde insisted, a chuckle interrupting the last word of her statement. She looked askance at Emily. "I don't."
Emily allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. "Right."
They exited the lift and padded down the carpeted hall to their suite of rooms. Emily fished the key out of the small purse slung over her shoulder, slid it into the keyhole on the fifth try (much to Naomi's amusement), elbowed the other teen good-naturedly, and turned the knob. The two stepped into the common room and glanced shyly at one another. The door to the communal bathroom was shut with light and the sound of running water stealing out from under the wooden door. The door to the bedroom on the left stood shut as well; no light visible around its edges alluded to Effy's ability to immediately pass out upon returning from their nights out on the town. Opposite, the doorway to the twins' bedroom spilled soft yellow light into the living room between sleeping quarters.
"Katie must be in the shower," Emily observed tentatively.
"Sangria turns you into quite the detective," Naomi teased. She glanced at the closed door behind her. "Well, I'll...see you in the morning, yeah?"
"Yeah. Right," the brunette said. She bit her lip, gaze flickering between the floor and Naomi's brilliant blue eyes. "Well, goodnight, then."
"'Night." The blonde girl smiled awkwardly and turned away, eyes closing of their own accord as she chided herself for being a bloody coward.
"Naomi..." Emily's soft voice seemed like a shout in the half-light of the common room. In the background, the sound of running water cut off and they both glanced at the shut door. Their eyes met a final time and Emily Fitch—nerves steeled by the lingering effects of the night's sangria—closed the gap between them before she could second guess herself with a unconscious lick of her lips. She stood on tiptoes, placed a steadying hand on the back of a sofa, and pressed her lips to Naomi's.
Before Naomi could properly comprehend the moment (though she'd certainly replay it well into the early hours of the morning beginning within minutes of its occurrence), Emily pulled away with another shy smile and closed the door to her bedroom behind her. Rooted to the carpet, Naomi stared after her, a hand shakily ghosting over her lips.
The bathroom door opened, snapping Naomi out of her reverie and she jumped visibly at the sight of a towel-clad Katie standing nonplussed across the room.
"What're you staring at, bitch?"
"Uh, nothing. Goodnight." Naomi fled into her room, slamming the door behind her and pressing her back to it as she winced; nevertheless, Effy could not be roused and Naomi breathed a sigh of relief she wouldn't have to face those inscrutable cobalt eyes. If there was a sight scarier than looking into Emily's eyes at that moment, Naomi was sure it'd be looking into Effy's. Instead, she crawled over to her double bed and collapsed on top of it as she set an alarm for practice in the morning. She smiled to herself and clenched the comforter as she whispered to herself, "Bienvenidos a Barcelona, Naomi."