Natasha immediately folds Sawyer into her arms. There's a strong smell of sweat coming off her. Natasha doesn't mind that at all. The safety of being held seems to release Sawyer's tears again, and Natasha can soon feel the collar of her shirt getting damp. She puts her hand on the back of Sawyer's head and it bounces with her hiccup sobs. Sawyer sobs for a few seconds more and then pushes Natasha off her in a flurry of little shoves, "Sorry but no, not now. I'm vile. Let me shower first." Sawyer shuffles off in the direction of the bathroom.
Natasha rummages in her drawers and finds Sawyer’s favorite t-shirt and the grey sweatpants she wore the first time Natasha stayed the night.
Sawyer's got the shower on full heat and steam billows out into the rest of the apartment. Natasha stands in the doorway with the clothes looped over her forearm.
"Do some stretches in the water. Bend over -"
Natasha hears a grunt which she assumes means Sawyer has followed Natasha's suggestion.
"Let your hands swing loose, let them touch the water. Now straighten up one vertebrae at a time. Don't go fast, see if you can feel each one."
Sawyer groans deeply.
"That's it, now stretch your arms out and pretend you've got pencils on the end of your index fingers. I want you to draw me some tiny circles with them."
An arm pokes out of the shower curtain.
"Argh! That fucking hurts."
"Good, it'll loosen your shoulders."
Natasha tiptoes into the bathroom, peeks behind the curtain. Where Sawyer’s arms are stretched out at her sides, her breasts sit high and proud on her sternum. The hot water is turning her chest blotchy and red and making her hair look even longer. Natasha moves towards her, entranced.
Sawyer cracks open one clever brown eye and smirks, "You can help me wash them if you want. But then I'm going to have a good cry in bed."
Natasha nods open-mouthed. Her fingers are cupping Sawyer's breasts before she even finishes her sentence.
Sawyer's standing in the bath, making her even taller than she already is, and Natasha barely has to bend to slurp Sawyer's wet nipple into her mouth. They're so heavy in her hands as she lathers them, making sure she pays enough attention to the crease beneath them where the skin is even more soft.
She steps back before she gets carried away, "What do you want to eat?"
"Something with ketchup?"
"Something with ketchup?"
"Yes, Natasha," Sawyer snaps, "We don't all have your refined Massachusetts palette!"
Natasha rolls her eyes, "Do you ever think your mum might not be the reason your dad left?"
Sawyer only cackles from inside the shower, then groans as she hefts her legs over the edge of the tub.
Natasha makes scrambled eggs. Usually at home she makes it in a cup in the microwave, then eats it with a spoon. For Sawyer, she cooks them slowly on the hob with a whisk and a bit of milk to keep the eggs silky.
With the ketchup bottle under her arm she follows Sawyer into the bedroom.
"Thanks for fixing me some clothes," Sawyer says, eyes closed and head tilted back on the bedhead.
"I made you eggs, I thought some iron might do you good."
Sawyer douses them in ketchup and shovels them in her mouth.
Once she's eaten, she drops the plate on to the floor and uses a book to bat it across the floor away from the bed. She leans her head on Natasha's shoulder.
"You want to tell me what happened?"
Sawyer takes a deep breath, "Just a long day, really. I was really dirty because the set fit-up was today and there was just sawdust everywhere. And I was rigging the lights. We're not even supposed to be rigging now but we're working, like, a day and a half behind our schedule because of the idiot sound designer not thinking about where he's hanging his speakers. And of course, it's my team that needs to compromise. And the rig hasn't been cleaned in years, so my face and hands just got disgusting. I've been bending and climbing all day and I just fucking ache all over."
As Sawyer speaks her voice gets higher and more nasal, Natasha has to stroke her forearm to bring it down a bit so she can hear her.
"And the Sound Designer. He's a fucking idiot. He doesn't understand the way that sound and light complement each other. His ideas and mine are so tonally disparate, and he won't discuss his decisions at all!"
Natasha lets Sawyer talk, adding soft noises of agreement and commiseration until she runs out of steam.
"From what you say it sounds like he's intimidated by the fact that you can read music but he knows nothing about your field. And that's bullshit! It seems as though these interactions have left you feeling frustrated and demotivated."
Sawyer manages a small smile, "You're right, you're right. Ticket sales are going well, and he probably can't help being an idiot."
Sawyer's head starts to become very heavy on Natasha's shoulder, so she rolls her on to her side.
"Do you want to...?" Sawyer slurs as she rubs herself back on Natasha.
Sawyer's definitely too exhausted to fulfill any promises, but perhaps an orgasm will
