Natasha can’t keep from grinning, “I’ve got ways of putting her back in her place,”
Sawyer screeches and gives Natasha a sharp tug on her hair. Natasha pulls Sawyer’s messy curls in retaliation. Sawyer gives a deep moan, then covers her mouth with her hand in shock.
“Right, I officially feel uncomfortable now,” Kimberly speaks from the screen.
Sawyer pinches the fabric of her sweater between her fingers and sniffs it. “I don’t think I need to do anything with the food for a while, so I’m going to shower and change. Natasha, you entertain Kimberly!”
Natasha watches Sawyer skid across the wood floor in thick, fleecy socks, a washed out old blood stain on the back of her grey sweats.
Natasha has felt a bit sheepish around Sawyer's friends since that night in Philadelphia. She knew that Sawyer had told them about it, it would be unfair to ask her not to. Sawyer had tried to reassure Natasha that she had only told them the bare minimum, and had praised Natasha's resilience and strength.
About a month after Philly, Mikaela had called while Sawyer was peeing. Natasha had clutched Sawyer's phone in her hand, heart speeding up as she stared at Mikaela's name and the picture of Mikaela, all wide eyes and thick mascara.
"Can you get it for me, please?" Sawyer shouted.
Natasha had stood in the kitchen, hand around the phone as it buzzed.
"Just fucking answer it!" screeched Sawyer through the door.
"Hi Mikaela. It's Natasha, Sawyer's- ”
"Pissing," Mikaela's voice boomed through the speaker, simultaneously abrasive and soothing.
"Um, yeah, she is. How are you?"
"Ah you know, working, working. And I’ve got these two bitches in Chicago plus Sawyer still needing me to be their mama."
"Hm," said Natasha.
"It snowing in Boston?"
"Not at the moment," Natasha drew breath to add another sentence but Mikaela interrupted.
"Good. You ready for Christmas?"
Natasha replied, "Well I'm not doing much, we'll just get carry out with my friend Lucia."
"Great. Now, Sawyer told me you two really got into it in Philadelphia. Don't let her push you around, now."
"I don't think that was really the –”
"And she's no angel either. Sawyer once rung me in a sweat saying she had taken too much ecstasy. I got home, and she was sat in the garden with Kimberly, so sunburnt that I was finding bits of flaked off skin on the furniture for weeks."
Before Natasha could respond, Sawyer had emerged from the bathroom and taken the phone from Natasha's hand.
"Mikaela, what nonsense have you been telling Natasha now?" Sawyer had thrown herself down on the sofa to bellow lovingly down the phone at Mikaela and Natasha had sat listening to them go back and forth, rubbing over Sawyer’s calves.
Compared to Mikaela, Kimberly seems much more content to sit in companionable silence. Kimberly gets on with some drawing work, and Natasha starts a little sketch of the root ginger on the paper Sawyer had used to make notes of Kimberly's recipe. She likes the rough surface, the way the root bulges irregularly. When she looks close, there are tiny fibers poking out of the part where Sawyer has cut into it, and it's oozing a little. Natasha stops for a little while to think about how she can use her mark making to convey the different textures. They stop to show each other what they’ve been doing every few minutes.
Sawyer reappears from the bathroom in newer sweats and a different t-shirt.
“Right, this should be ready to eat now,” she pronounces.
“Great, I hope it’s good. Don’t blame me if it’s not. There’s nothing I can do to improve your white girl palette. Bye Natasha, nice hanging with you!” Sawyer's tablet bleeps as Kimberly disconnects, and Natasha helps Sawyer get plates and glasses together.
They eat at the kitchen table, talking through what they’ve done that day. Sawyer’s baked tofu is sweet and spicy, and the salad is crisp and refreshing. They usually eat out or eat simply, and it makes her feel a sneaky, guilty sort of glee that Sawyer is learning how to cook for the benefit for them both. She wonders if it makes her a bad feminist, when the thought of Sawyer fattening Natasha up makes her feel so beatific.
After dinner they move to the sofa and chat for a while, but Sawyer keeps interrupting Natasha, leaning in and kissing her with intent. She’s dragging her fingers up the insides of Natasha’s forearms, making her shiver. Sawyer has obviously been working herself up for some time; she’s moaning and whimpering as she presses her tongue into Natasha’s mouth.
“Come on,” Natasha whispers, “Let’s just go straight to bed.”
In Sawyer's bed they make out like teenagers and Sawyer does her best to keep twisting herself so she’s always prone under Natasha, spreading her legs under Natasha’s narrow hips. She keeps shuffling down so she's shorter than Natasha. Sawyer brings her hands up to rest lightly on Natasha’s shoulders, like they’re swaying slowly at the end of a school dance. Natasha knows this mood, is more than happy to capitulate to it. She can feel herself getting wet at the thought of fucking a pliant, submissive Sawyer.
Natasha hangs over the side of the mattress, rummaging in the drawer under the bed while Sawyer sits against the pillows, curls matting at the back of her head and lips swollen from kissing. Natasha’s not sure what she’s looking for, but she knows she’ll know
