Safe Zone (NF, NP, ML, EB, JP)

Chapter Three

"Ugh! Natt! Get away from me!" Pitcha whined as she tried pushing the woman as hard as she could.

"Awww, I just wanna spend time with my little stubborn girl. Can't I do that?" Natt held her even tighter, resting her chin ontop of the girls head.

"Atleast wear something! Why are you just in your bra!" She soon stopped resisting and just accepted her fate

"It's hot in your room!" Natt rolled her eyes, "Seriously, how do you even sleep like this."

"If it's so hot, why don't you just go to your room!"

"Because Namtan wanted to spend time with Film! She said it'll look weird if she's the only one sleeping in Film's room." Natt cleared her throat,

"Everyone followed except for Milk though.. y'know exes and stuff"

"Mmm. I know, Love looks like she would skin Milk that night anyways."

"You’re not wrong. The way Love stared daggers at Milk during dinner? I thought the wine glasses were gonna shatter."

"I would've paid to see that," Pitcha grumbled, still trying to squirm away. "But instead, I’m stuck here."

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad."

Pitcha groaned dramatically. "I hate you."

"You say that, but you still haven’t actually kicked me out."

Pitcha paused.

"I’m conserving energy," Pitcha said at last, though her voice was quieter now. "Kicking you out takes the energy of 4 people."

"Four people, huh?" she teased. "I’m honored, it means I'm incredibly strong right?"

"Anyway, do you have a shirt I can borrow?" Natt asked, finally—finally—letting go of the girl and stretching out her arms like she'd just finished an intense workout.

Pitcha walked over to a basket near the door, rifling through the mess of clothes before tossing one over her shoulder.

"There. I think it'll fit you."

Natt caught it mid-air, then held it up to inspect.

It was a worn, oversized tee light grey with some faded print from an old concert or band name barely legible across the chest.

She held it up to her nose and sniffed it.

"Mm, smells good. What perfume do you use?"

Pitcha raised an eyebrow from across the room, arms crossed.

"Did you just sniff my shirt?"

"Yeah? It smelled good, I like it." Natt grinned widely

"You’re insane," Pitcha muttered, turning back toward the bed. "It’s just detergent."

"Well, your detergent smells like you. So."

Natt sniffed the shirt again, Pitcha gave her a side glance. Soon they started wrestling over the shirt, Pitcha trying to grab it back.

"Stop sniffing it you weirdo!" Pitcha yelped, lunging across the bed.

"It’s mine now!" Natt cackled, twisting away and hugging the shirt to her chest like it was sacred.

They wrestled, arms flailing, legs kicking, laughter and curses filling the small room.

Pitcha managed to grab a sleeve, tugging hard, while Natt squirmed beneath her.

Then,

“Hey, Pitcha, do you have the-”

The door creaked open.