Once again apologies for the gap, but I got roped in to do the sound design for the show I'm on at the moment, and have been spending every spare minute chained to my headphones. Worth it though. It sounds fucking Hypersweet.

Now the following chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature. If they're not to your taste I suggest you skip over them, but come back for the end, cause it's rather fucking lovely.

Big shout out to SJ, who's moving hospitals again, and hopefully towards a full recovery. Love to you, girl xx.

I don't own Skins, but into each life some rain must fall.

.

.

13. In Another World

Katie

There really were no other words for it. I was going to have to go with one of the classics.

"What the actual fuck, Cook?" I said.

I felt myself melting a little at the wounded look in his eyes, but then I looked back at the disaster in front of us, and my sympathies evaporated.

"What the fuck kind of date is this?"

"You said I had to make an effort," he replied.

"So you brought me here?" I said scathingly, waving my hand in the direction of the ugly building. "Wherever the fuck 'here' is."

"Roundview College," said Cook defensively.

Emily and I had gone to a posh girls school, but we knew all about Roundview, and its dreadful reputation.

"Last time I heard, that place was a breeding ground for social misfits and reprobates," I scoffed.

"Me and the lads went here," said Cook. "And Effy, before she buggered off to France."

"I rest my case," I replied, softening slightly, suddenly remembering what I was here for at the mention of her name. I was here to find an escape route, and Cook was a pretty buff looking escape route. I owed it to myself to give him a chance. I frowned as we walked through the gates of the college, trying to come up with a reason why he might have brought me here.

"I'm sorry, Cook," I sighed. 'But breaking in somewhere and smashing things up isn't exactly in my top ten list of things to do on a romantic night out."

"I'm not… we're not," he protested, but he was cut short as an excited looking teenage girl came up to us.

"Are you here for the fashion show?" she asked us.

"Fashion show?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"The kids have put it on," said Cook. "It's for charity. I thought it would be something different. My little brother Paddy is one of the models. I thought it would be a chance to get to know more about me. And I know you're into clothes and all that shit."

He looked at the ground sheepishly, and I suddenly realised this idea represented a monumental amount of thought and consideration for a guy like Cook, who was more used to picking up girls in pubs and nightclubs. My anger dissipated as I understood what an incredibly sweet gesture this was.

"Thank you," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "It's a great idea. I'm sorry I was such a total bitch. I don't know why you'd want to go out with me at all."

"I can think of two good reasons," he smirked at me.

Normal service had been resumed.

"Come on then, Romeo," I laughed. "Let's go look at some clothes and shit."

I decided to kick cynical Katie into touch, and allow myself to enjoy the show. The kids had taken over an outdoor plaza, built themselves a little catwalk, and transformed the space with some lighting. They had put quite a lot of effort into it, and as they started to strut their stuff, I was surprised to discover that some of their ideas showed flair and innovation. I clapped eagerly at the arrival of each new model, even the ones who looked a little gauche and uncertain on the runway. We were surrounded by proud parents here to cheer on their offspring, but from the little I knew of Cook's background, Paddy was not going to have that kind of support. A handsome looking young lad arrived on the catwalk strutting his stuff and playing to all the girls. I could almost feel Cook's chest swelling with pride as he approached us.

"That's my little bro," he said happily. "That's my Paddy."

"He's fit," I teased. "Maybe I should dump you and go for the younger model."

Despite himself, Paddy couldn't help but lose his cool and give Cook a little wave when he spotted us. The pair of them were so cute, I found my hand drifting over to Cook's leg to give it a little squeeze. When I felt the hard and powerful muscles that lurked underneath his trousers, I felt my first surge of genuine sexual excitement, and decided to leave my hand there for the rest of the show.

Afterwards there was a bit of a party for the participants, and Cook asked me if I'd like to go and meet Paddy. I accepted with a genuine good will, and I was sipping on a glass of cheap red wine when a large man with a strange looking haircut and a powder blue tuxedo came bounding up to us.

"Mr Cook," he said, in a booming Welsh accent. "How lovely to see you again. What did you make of our little shindig tonight?"

"Top notch, Doug," replied Cook slapping him on the back.

"It only seems like yesterday you and your cronies were running round here getting into mischief," said Doug. "How's the big wide world treating you?"

"Not so bad, Doug," said Cook. "Got my own business now. With Freds and Thommo and Effy. We run a fireworks company. Respectable and everything."

"Pyrotechnics, eh?" said Doug, clearly impressed. "So do we get to chalk you up as one of our successes?"

"I'd say so," grinned Cook. "Who would have thought it, eh?"

"And how is Effy?" asked Doug, a slight frown of concern clouding his brow.

"Cleaned up her act real good," Cook reassured him. "She's actually the brains behind the operation."

"Oh I'm so glad to hear that," sighed Doug. "One did wonder, you know…"

"What about you mate?" said Cook. "I heard they finally made you Head."

"Yes indeed," announced Doug. "Roundview is now my kingdom. Maybe you might think about taking one or two of our youngsters on their work experience. I'm sure it would be more fulfilling for them than working down the local shoe shop."

"I'll see what we can do Doug," said Cook. "Give something back to the old place, eh?"

"Excellent," said Doug. "Oggy, oggy, oggy."

He punched Cook in the arm and wandered off to talk to more guests. I barely had time to quiz him on his eccentric ex-teacher before he was rugby tackled to the ground.

"Nice one, Cookie, you came," said Paddy, sitting on top of his brother.

"Said I would, didn't I?" said Cook, throwing him off and climbing to his feet.

"Did you like it?" asked Paddy earnestly. "I didn't look lame, did I?"

"You were great mate," replied Cook, ruffling his hair.

"You need to work on your footwork," I said. "And refrain from waving from waving at your relatives on the runway, but it wasn't a bad start. You managed to own the stage, and yet give the clothes room to breathe without stealing all the attention."

Paddy's eyes snapped towards me, looking me up and down with filthy intent.

"Nice one, Cookie monster, who's the fox?"

"Back off little bro, the fox is with me," chided Cook. "This is Katie. She used to work in fashion."

"Really?" said Paddy, his eyes bugging out, before launching into a hundred questions about my former job. He started to call his mates over, and before long, I was surrounded by a gang of star struck teenagers swooning and gasping as I reeled off the names of the models and designers I had worked with. It was a nice feeling. It made me feel important again. I was starting to forget that world, and it was a startling reminder of just how much I had lost that day in Paris.

"Do you miss it?" asked Cook, once we had finally escaped my fan club and were heading to the pub for some decent alcohol. "All that glamour."

"Yeah, I do," I replied. "But not as much as I thought I would."

And it was true. When I was reminded of it, on nights like tonight, it loomed large in my consciousness and filled me with regret. But if I'm honest with myself, ever since I met Effy, and started hanging out with Le Coeur, its influence on me had declined. I would certainly have struggled to find many people as honest and appealing as Cook and his buddies, people who seemed to love me for who I am, and not what they could get from me.

"You know what? Fuck the past," I said. "We should live in the now, right?"

"Works for me," said Cook.

A couple of hours and several vodka tonics later, we pushed through a set of heavy double doors to emerge onto the roof of Merrick's. We were greeted by an assault of heavy bass and the sight of a couple of hundred people getting wonky on the dance floor. Many others were clustered round the outdoor bars that had been set up, or chatting excitedly around the nooks and crannies and specially built furniture on the roof. An impressive light show danced across their faces, and scattered through the crowd were stilt walkers, fire breathers and other entertainers. At one end of the rig they'd built some kind of aerial rig, and two women in metallic lycra were weaving their way gracefully up and down coloured fabrics. Cook threw his head back and howled into the night sky.

"This is fuckin mint," he declared to the universe, and I was inclined to agree with him.

"Drink?" he offered.

"Just a bottle of Sol or something," I said.

This party was only just starting and I wanted to be awake enough to enjoy it. Cook grabbed my hands and pulled me close into him.

"I've got pills and coke," he whispered in my ear. "But we don't have to go there if you don't wanna."

"Maybe just a line of coke," I said, for the same reasons for which I had chosen the beer. "And let's see where the night takes us."

"Consider it done," he replied, handing me a packet of fags, which I knew must have contained the wrap. "You go get yourself sorted, and I'll get us some beers."

Of course, it's never just one line, is it? Thomas had been right, this party was absolutely banging. Cook and I soon threw ourselves into the spirit of things, drinking and snorting and flinging ourselves round on the dancefloor. I was pleasantly surprised. The boy could certainly move. Enhanced by the drink and drugs and the lighting and the heavy tunes he certainly cut a fine figure on the dancefloor. And so far he had been the perfect gentleman. It was time to put a stop to that. I moved closer to him and put one hand around his neck moving in time with him. His shit-eating grin grew wider, and he slipped his hands around my waist. I let it ride like that for a little while, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it. It felt good to be the centre of his attention, especially as his hands began to wander, travelling up and down my back and then sliding down across the curve of my ass. It felt good to be in the middle of the loved up mass, exchanging dopey smiles with the other dancers. I let him spin me round and pull me closer, smiling when I felt him start to harden against me.

"Feeling mighty fine there, Katiekins," he whispered in my ear.

"Not feeling too bad yourself, Cookie Monster," I said, pushing my ass back against his cock to let him know exactly what I meant by that.

He started kissing my neck, and I leant back into him, arching my head back to offer him more flesh.

"Oh fuck yeah," he murmured as his kisses travelled down to my bare shoulder, and his arms wrapped around my belly. I felt my pussy start to tingle as he ghosted his fingertips cheekily across my breast. That there was a sexual attraction there was undeniable. But more than that, I liked him. We got on well. He made me laugh, and we had fun when we were together. He was a good sparring partner, and a talented artistic guy. So it hadn't worked out with any of the other lads I'd dated recently, but Cook was different. I liked him for himself and not just as an Effy substitute. Surely it was time to move on and stop moping over a woman I couldn't have. I span round and kissed him on the mouth, our lips opening immediately and our tongues sliding to greet each other. I revelled in the heady sensations of guilt free lust. He was a great kisser.

"Jesus, you're fucking hot, Katie," he said, pulling away. "You're making me well horny. What do you think, princess? Is it a goer?"

I reached my hand down between us and squeezed his cock. He was fully hard and erect for me now.

"Judging by this, I'd say it was definitely a goer," I growled huskily.

"You like that, yeah?" he grinned. "You fancy a slice of big, hard Cookie magic inside you?"

I thought about it for a moment, and came to the rapid conclusion that yeah actually I did. I wanted him to fuck me. I grabbed his tight little ass and pulled him hard against me.

"Think you're man enough for the job?" I teased him.

His answer was to kiss me passionately whilst grinding himself against me, and I felt my knickers getting wet.

"I wanna fuck you, Katie," he said breathlessly.

"I wanna fuck you too," I replied.

We kissed again roughly and filthily, and our hands started roaming more freely. You know those irritating couples you see practically humping each other on the dancefloor, and you just wish they would fuck off somewhere and get it done? Well I'm more than sure me and Cook turned into one of those couples in the minutes that followed. But I didn't care. I was happy in my lust. Feeling his hard muscles underneath my hands, his gorgeous lips setting fire to my own, and his nice hard cock pushing against me with the promise of things to come. I could feel his attentions getting more fevered, and felt like it might be a good idea to get out of here soon, before he couldn't contain himself and suggested a shag in the toilets, and much as though I wanted him, I certainly wasn't going there. But his hand was on my tit and his hot mouth was biting down on my neck and I was finding it hard to summon the strength to pull away.

When suddenly he froze. He stopped dead and all his muscles grew tense with panic.

"Shit," he said, his eyes flicking restlessly around the room.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Cook took my face in his hands, and focussed his gaze in on me."

"I can't do this," he said regretfully.

"What do you mean you can't do this?" I frowned. "You were all over me a minute ago."

"I'm really sorry," he said, his eyes brimming with sincerity. "I just can't."

"But you want me," I said, grabbing his balls to prove a point.

"Oh. Fuck," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

But despite this evidence, I felt him pull away. His hands slipped down to my shoulders.

"I do," he continued. "I do want you, you know that. But she doesn't want me to have you."

It was my turn to freeze. There was only one woman who mattered enough to Cook to stop him getting his end away. His eyes had ripped away from mine and were locked onto something across the other side of the roof. I span and followed his gaze. And there she was. Effy. Her dark eyes tearing us asunder more effectively than if she had hired a dozen henchmen to drag us apart. Her gaze was quite unreadable. It was far far away from her usual cool superior stare. I couldn't tell if she was jealous or angry. A thousand layered emotions swirled stormily in that fierce gaze, but none of them were pretty. The first thought that filled my head invaded me completely and destroyed everything that had happened in the hours preceding it. She had come for me. She had realised she was going to lose me and she couldn't stand it. So she had finally given into her feelings, and she had come for me, to make me hers. My heart surged at the thought of it, poor Cook a distant memory in the face of this all consuming revelation. I was just about to run to her, to throw myself into her arms with welcome abandon, when another figure entered my field of vision. Freddie. Fucking Freddie. Smiling at her and handing her a drink.

I'm no stranger to the red mist, but this fury was white. It was incandescent. It shot through me and made every cell in my body scream with rage. For a second I was so angry with her I could have fucking killed her. But it burnt out just as quickly as it came. In truth, I was just as angry with myself for believing my little fantasy, my stupid Hollywood ending. I scoffed at myself. What was I expecting? That suddenly she would stop the music in the club, and the DJ would put on some corny love song for her to serenade me with? That everyone in the club would start to join in and then burst into rapturous applause when we kissed? What a pile of shit.

"Fuck you, Effy," I shouted into the crowd. "If you're going to fucking stalk me, at least have the decency to leave your fucking boyfriend at home."

"Come on, Cook. Let's go," I said, grabbing his hand.

He stood rooted to the spot, and yanked me to a halt as I attempted to leave.

"I don't think we should… you know," he said nervously.

"What? You can't even say the word 'fuck' around me now?" I spat angrily. "What are you, her bitch?"

"I just don't want to hurt her," he mumbled defensively.

"I get it," I huffed. "Your precious Effy's more important to you than anything else."

"And she isn't to you?" said Cook.

"No," I said angrily. I didn't want to hear that truth right now. "I don't care, Cook. Just get me the fuck out of here."

Cook finally grew a pair, and escorted me to the door.

"I really am sorry," he said once we had reached the safety of the street. "It's just we've been through a lot, me and her. And those eyes man. They fucking burn me."

"Whatever," I replied. "If I can't have your body, I can still have your coke. And take me somewhere I can get some fucking vodka."

Those eyes, they fucking burn me too, and I just needed to forget.

Cook took me to some dodgy late night bar where everybody seemed to know him by name, and we could rack out lines directly on the table without anyone batting an eyelid. The more wasted I got, the easier it became, and stripped of the pressure, Cook and I slipped back easily into friendly company, our genuine affection for each other unable to be crushed. The dawn had graced the day for a good few hours before we staggered from the bar, blinking at the unfamiliar shininess around us. He walked me back home, his jacket slung around my shoulders, and when we reached my door I was reluctant to let him go. I was still scared of the thoughts that would consume me if I were left alone in this state, too wired to sleep but to wasted to do anything of consequence.

"Are you coming in?" I asked him, as I leant unsteadily in my doorframe.

"Um.." he said shiftily.

"Jesus, Cook. I'm not going to jump you," I said. "You can crash, or at least have a cup of tea before you go."

"Ok,' he said, and lumbered through the door.

I was clattering around noisily in my kitchen attempting to get my shit together enough to make tea, when I heard his voice drifting through from the living room.

"You had a good time though, yeah?" he said.

I wandered back through and saw him lying on his back on the sofa.

"You what?" I sniggered at him.

"Apart from that little hiccup," he said, dragging himself to sitting. "It was a good night, yeah?"

I laughed out loud.

"Apart from that little hiccup where we got cock blocked by a psycho stalker?"

"Yeah, that'd be the one," smirked Cook.

He took a deep breathe before continuing.

"You know you're fucking gorgeous, Katie," he said. "I totally would have."

"So would I," I sighed. "You had me, Cook. After all that trying, you totally had me. I was gonna give you the fuck of your life."

Our eyes locked across the room, and the flames reignited with a vengeance. When I broke the gaze my eyes fell on a tell tale swelling in the front of his trousers.

"Oh God," he moaned.

It was enough. I crossed the room before I had the chance to change my mind and straddled him where he sat. I pushed him back into the sofa and kissed him roughly. His will was broken. He hands flew upwards to my tits and he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I squirmed against his hardness, and felt him jerk up against me. There a few things that are certain in this life, but one of them is that boys will always be boys.

"I believe you mentioned something about a big hard slice of Cookie magic," I purred at him.

Women might still be a fucking mystery to me, but Katie Fitch could always get her man. His hands were already tugging at the zip of my dress, and he pulled it down from my shoulders to reveal my bra-clad breasts. I knew he was a goner now.

"Holy crap," he said, staring at my tits in wonder. "Where did you get these?"

"The bra I got from Agent Provocateur," I smiled. "The tits? Well they're just part of the package."

"It's a fucking mint package," he said, undoing my bra with a practiced ease, casting it aside and taking my nipple in his mouth.

"Jesus," I hissed, as he flicked his tongue across me. The boy had skills, but then again, having listened to his tales, I knew he'd had lots of practice. I was keen to find out what else he could do.

"Take me to bed Cook," I murmured. "I wanna feel you inside me."

He didn't need telling twice. Somehow he managed to stand up with me still wrapped round him. It barely seemed any effort to him. Christ, he was fucking strong. He stood in the middle of the living room, spinning us round and round.

"Where is it?" he said desperately.

"Back that way," I nodded, before kissing him again.

I was still kissing him, my legs locked tightly round him as we stumbled through the bedroom door. He set me down on the bed, pulling my dress from my hips and leaving me in just my knickers, before stepping back and ripping off his shirt to reveal his chiselled upper body. He smirked as he must have caught my eyes flaring with desire at the sight. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and then dropped his trousers and boxers in one fell swoop, flinging them aside with abandon, before slapping himself on the forehead and going to retrieve them.

"You got me so hot I almost forgot the safety equipment," he said, waving a condom in front of him as he returned. "But first things first."

He knelt down before me and pulled my knickers away from me. Immediately he plunged his face between my legs and swiped his tongue across my clit. I gasped in shock. I hadn't expected it, but fuck it felt good.

"Finer than the finest wine," he said, before delving deeper, and I grabbed at his hair and pushed him harder against me. Heightened by the coke that was still coursing through my veins, the sensation of him licking me was absolutely fucking amazing. And he certainly fucking knew what he was doing. Someone somewhere had put a good deal of time and effort into teaching Cook how to satisfy a lady. I shut my eyes and pushed the thought away of who that might have been. I wasn't thinking about her tonight, even though I was almost certainly enjoying her influence. Cook continued to tease me, building me up slowly with his tongue, and it wasn't long before I was breathing heavily and moaning. My legs were spread wide and I was gagging for him to fuck me. I swore loudly when he pulled away from me, but I watched with anticipation as here tore the wrapper from the condom and sheathed himself, before crawling up my body to lie on top of me.

He kissed me passionately, and his hands were working miracles on my tits. Although his actions were rough, they were free from the charmless incompetence of many of the guys I'd fucked. My cunt was aching now and my hips bucked urgently up towards him. He took the hint, and took a moment to guide his cock into me. Once he found me, he thrust deep into me and I moaned and wrapped my legs around him again. Neither of us wasted much time being gentle, and we started as we meant to go on, hard and fast. Cook was amusingly vocal and he was yelling and moaning almost as much as I was as he pumped into me. He straightened his arms and pushed up on them to give himself better leverage, enabling him to thrust deeper inside me.

"Oh fuck Cook, this is…" I cried, as we began to rock the bed.

"Oh my… fuck," he yelled back at me, and we continued to scream at each other in incomplete sentences as we hurtled towards mutual orgasm. Cook started crying out as if he was in pain, and I knew he was close to coming. Just seeing him so worked up for me was enough, and I let myself go, abandoning myself to the high. We were both coked up so we came hard and we came long, ramming our bodies together in an attempt to squeeze every last second of pleasure out of each other before we fell.

"Jesus Fuck Christ Bollocking Fuck Shit…" I screamed, as the waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm me. "Holy Mother of Cunting Putain D'Esti…!"

I felt Cook lurch to a halt above me, and I was momentarily stunned, before my brain woke up, and I realised that what had come out of my mouth had reintroduced a very large elephant into the room.

"Fuck ," said Cook, and not in a good way.

"Ah," I replied and let him pull out of me.

The sex had been phenomenal, but there weren't going to be any fairytale endings tonight.

"You even swear like her," he said. "She's going to fucking kill me."

"She doesn't have to know," I said. "It can be our little secret."

"Like that's ever going to happen," he scoffed. "She'll know. She always knows. She'll take one look at me and then she'll know."

He flipped himself over to lie on his back beside me.

"At least I'll die a happy man," he said.

"Was it worth it?" I smiled.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, a smug grin plastered all over his face.

I looked over at him, and my heart felt a twinge of sadness.

"This isn't going to work out, is it?" I said.

"She's always going to be hanging over us," he replied.

"Fucking Effy," I said, though my voice held no malice.

"Yeah, fucking Effy," agreed Cook, his voice laced with equal affection.

"You know, in another world…" I said.

"We'd fuck like devils and have half a dozen kids. Who's all grow up to be champion prize fighters."

"Formula one drivers."

"Or top fashion designers," smirked Cook. "And they'd all shag supermodels."

"If only that French bitch knew what she was denying our future children," I said shaking my head.

Cook howled with laughter beside me.

"Friends?" he said, reaching out his hand for mine.

"Friends," I agreed, curling my palm around his and giving it a squeeze.

"It was good though, right? I fucking got you off good, yeah?" he said.

Ah, the male ego, such a fragile and delicate flower.

"You fuck like a girl," I told him.

"What?" he said in alarm.

"You scream and you moan," I smiled. "You know how to handle a pair of tits, you took care of my clit, and you gave me a stupendous orgasm. Trust me, it's a compliment."

"I fuck like a girl," he nodded to himself. "Hey, do you think I can use that line to pull lesbians?"

"I don't know," I laughed. "But you managed to pull me, and I'm in love with a girl."

"Sweet," he said, his eyes glowing with possibility.

I smiled and shook my head. I didn't bother to say it out loud, but sometimes he sounded an awful lot like her too.