I highly recommend finding me on AO3. I'm very bad about updating and posting on here. My name there is Sloangreymercydeath.

Shaw walked down the third floor hallway of the art building, enjoying the last day of quiet before the semester started. Once the other art students arrived on campus and classes started, the building would always be crowded and noisy. She loved being a Studio Art major, but she wished she was the only one. At least she was a senior now and got her own private studio. She could lock the door and noise out.

Adjusting the straps of her backpack, she counted along with the number cards attached to the studio doors on either side of her. Every senior got a studio to work on their projects. The room was basically a closet with a drawing table, a stool, a side table, and a trash can, but it was going to be her second home. Her roommate, Reese, had a very nice girlfriend, Joss, but Shaw was tired of walking in on them naked. She'd probably squeeze a mini-fridge and a cot into the tiny room and avoid them altogether.

Because school was taking up so much of her time, Shaw had stopped taking jobs. It was just too much work to meet clients, stakeout targets, steal (or kill), and then clean up. Last semester, her teachers had told her she was 'technically perfect, but lacking heart,' so this semester, she needed to dedicate more time to figuring out what that meant. She loved people-watching and sketching daily life and she loved replicating complicated, famous artworks in painstaking detail, but it was hard for her to draw from nothing. Maybe she would find some inspiration this year. When she got frustrated, she could still take a one-off bank job. Art supplies weren't cheap.

Arriving at the very oddly numbered studio 4AF, Shaw pulled her key out of her pocket. She was strong, but she'd packed her bag as full as possible and it was starting to hurt her back. She had what felt like a million pieces of charcoal, pastels, and chalk in her bag, along with her pencils and reference books. Two rolls of thick, brown paper were strapped to the bag, weighing it down even more. With a thankful sigh, she stuck her key into the doorknob, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

To her surprise, the room was occupied. There were actually two drawing tables in the studio, adjusted to lie flat and moved together to form a long bed. A woman was asleep on that table-bed. Her long, wavy brown hair hung over her face and off the edge of the table. Her red shirt had ridden up, exposing a pale waist and stomach. Amazingly long legs extended off the far side, wrapped in startling tight jeans.

For a second, Shaw wondered if she was still dreaming, because a super hot woman laying in her art studio seemed too good to be true. Then, she remembered that art school didn't supply official sex partners, but they did assign private rooms, and this one was Shaw's. She should be the only one with a key. Carefully, she slid her bag off her shoulders and put it down gently. Her days of slamming her bag around were over now that she carried delicate and expensive supplies.

Who was this woman? She didn't have a bag with her, and clearly she wasn't doing any art. Walking around her, Shaw noticed her black nail polish and rolled her eyes. So, she was an art student after all. Shaw couldn't see her face, but she knew she'd recognize that body if she'd seen it around campus. This girl must be a freshman who'd found a random room to nap in. Well, Shaw had no problem pulling rank and kicking her out.

Shaw decided to wake the woman up and force her to leave. She walked to the door and opened it, waiting a second before slamming it shut with a bang. The woman bolted upright, her hand reflexively reaching into her front pants pocket. Shaw wondered if this was a trap of some sort, from someone who wanted payback. The woman relaxed and shook her head, pushing her hair out of her face. Now that Shaw could see her face, she could tell that this woman was beautiful with high cheekbones and a delicate nose. Shaw watched as she stretched, her arms straining upward, lifting her shirt again to reveal soft skin. Trap or not, she had a great body.

Shaw realized she was staring at the woman's chest and rolled her eyes. Looking up at the woman's face, she tensed when she saw her staring back. Her perfect eyebrows were raised, her perfect mouth curled into a smirk, and her perfect hands pulling her perfect hair into a ponytail. She didn't seem like she was interested in hurting Shaw, at least not because she was hired to. The woman spoke.

"Hey, you're pretty cute." She dragged her eyes along Shaw's body, making her warm even as it annoyed her. "What are you doing in my studio?"

Shaw frowned, her arms automatically crossed in front of her. "Your studio? This room is mine. I'm a senior and this room was assigned to me. Freshman don't get their own studios, so leave."

The woman startled Shaw with a sharp laugh. "I'm not a freshman. I'm a Master's student, and this room was assigned to me. I think I should get to keep it because I got here first, but I'm willing to share." She winked at Shaw. "We can test the sound proofing." When Shaw only glared at her, the woman pouted. "Fine, we can get to know each other first. Want to get some coffee? I know a great place. Let me guess..." She pretended to think for a moment, long finger tapping her chin. "You're a hot, black coffee kind of gal."

Shaw shifted impatiently. If the admins had assigned them both the room, then Shaw was going to kill them. This woman was already talking so much and Shaw wasn't going to survive a semester with her. She really needed to focus this year. The way this stranger's eyes glinted dangerously told Shaw they wouldn't get much work done if she stayed.

"We should talk to the office because they fucked up. I'm not sharing a room." Shaw hesitated, unable to help herself. "Black coffee is the only correct caffeinated drink."

Perfect lips stretched into a wide grin and Shaw regretted responding to her coffee comment. The woman turned, swinging her legs around so she was facing Shaw. Shaw could see now that her shirt had a long string of numbers on it, all zeros and ones. Shaw wouldn't expect a nerd to be so hot. She rolled her eyes internally.

"What are your opinions on tea?" the woman asked. "Is tea 'correct' or 'incorrect'? What about hot chocolate? Do you mean black, American coffee? Or espresso?"

Shaw moved to the drawing tables and grabbed the one the woman wasn't sitting on. Pulling it across the floor, she stuck it against the wall and started adjusting the height. "I need to get some work done," she told the woman as she tilted the table, holding it at the right angle as she tightened the knobs and locked it in place. "Get out."

"What if I had work to do?"

"You're not getting much done sleeping on the tables." Shaw grabbed her stool and slammed it into place in front of the table. She glared at the smirking woman. "Seriously. I have to get started."

"Alright," the woman shrugged, kicking her feet lazily as she sat on the edge of the table. It shouldn't be balancing as well as it was, but the woman seemed relaxed and unworried. "I'm not stopping you."

Shaw glared up into the woman's face, angry that she was still in the room and angry that she was so attractive. Her hands clenched into fists and the woman moved her hand back to the pocket of her leather jacket, too casual. Shaw could guess she had a weapon of some kind and that only added to her idea that this was all some trick to get her. She'd made a few enemies in the city.

Deciding she didn't want a fight today, Shaw just unclenched her fists, holding her hands up. She rolled her eyes again, a headache developing. "Fine. You can stay." She stuck a finger in the woman's face. "Only. Today. If you're here tomorrow, I will punch your face in. I won't hold back just because you're hot."

Shaw realized what she said, but the woman just smiled at her, her head tilted thoughtfully. "I like you," the woman said decisively. "I'll leave you alone for today, but no promises for tomorrow."

"Whatever," Shaw muttered, turning around to grab the small rolling table in the corner and rolling it beside her stool. She picked up her bag.

Shaw stayed alert as she put it on the stool and unzipped it. Digging through the various pockets, she pulled out her pencil cases, putting them on the side table along with her reference books. Movement caught her eye and she looked over to see the woman hopping off the table. She was tall and Shaw disliked her even more. Unstrapping a roll of brown paper, Shaw tossed her now-empty bag onto the floor.

The woman yawned loudly, stretching forward to touch her toes. Shaw absentmindedly unrolled a length of brown paper as she watched the woman. She really was hot, which was very annoying. Straightening, the woman glanced over her shoulder at Shaw, a knowing look in her eyes. Shaw grit her teeth, caught again. This woman was far too smug for her own good. If Shaw saw her again, she was probably going to wipe that smirk off her face with a fist. Turning away, Shaw took her small exacto from a case and pulled the cap off with her teeth.

The woman appeared at her side as she cut her paper. "Well," the woman sighed, leaning on the table, "I should go. Things to do. People to see. Good luck with your oil painting."

"I use charcoal," Shaw answered, voice muffled around the plastic cap. The woman lifted an eyebrow and Shaw felt like she'd given away something she shouldn't have. Rolling her eyes, she lifted the knife to her mouth and recapped it, throwing it back in the bag. "Ok, bye."

She dropped the roll of brown paper under her table, kicking it backwards with her foot. The woman watched her as she pulled out a roll of tape and started sticking the paper she'd cut to the table. It was big, and Shaw knew it would take her hours to finish the landscape she had planned, but drawing was soothing. She reached for a reference book, but the woman snatched it away.

"What's your name? I'm Root."

She held her free hand out, and Shaw took it against her better judgment. Root's skin was cool and soft, and Shaw wondered how the rest of her would feel. She pushed the thought away as she dropped Root's hand. This was going to be the semester where Shaw got it together and figured out what she wanted to do after graduation. She wasn't going to let some hot weirdo ruin it for her.

Root raised an eyebrow, holding up the book. "You won't tell me your name?"

"No," Shaw snapped, trying to grab the book. Root moved it away. "I'm going to punch you."

"I'm too cute to punch," Root answered casually. "What's your name?"

"Shaw." She took the book when Root offered it. "Now get out."

"Shaw," Root repeated, rolling the word in her mouth. A shiver ran down Shaw's spine. "That's a nice name. I hope I get to say it more."

With that she left the room, Shaw staring at the closing door. Root was unlike anyone Shaw had met before and Shaw was sure she hadn't seen the last of her. At least the view would be good. Sighing, Shaw opened her book, rifling through for something to draw. The room was blissfully quiet now that Root was gone. Settling on a picture of the Alps, Shaw sat on her stool and go to work.

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It had been two weeks since Shaw had seen Root in her studio and she was beginning to think Root had talked to the office after all. Shaw meant to, but classes had started and Root had stopped showing up, so she didn't waste her time. She suddenly regretted that decision.

Root was at Shaw's table, the sketchbook Shaw had left open in front of her. The neatly organized pile of brown paper drawings Shaw was keeping beside her table was now spread across the small room. All of the rubber bands that held them tightly rolled were gone. In the far corner of the room, Root had set up a station for herself. Apparently, Root was a sculptor and the crude shape of a woman stood on her rolling table. It was lunch time now, so Root must gotten here when the building opened at seven.

Taking her bag off, Shaw threw it to the ground with a huff. Her supplies were on her table and that meant she was free to express her anger through the violent discarding of her belongings. Root looked over her shoulder, startled. She grinned when she saw Shaw.

"You're really good," she said, forgoing a greeting or an explanation. "I can definitely see that your studio time is paying off."

"Fuck off," Shaw growled. She stomped over to her drawing table, fists clenched. Root just smiled at her, sitting back and sliding her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. Her casual attitude annoyed Shaw so much that she didn't bother wondering what Root was holding onto. "Get away from my shit."

Root pouted, her eyes widening. "I just want to be friends, Sameen."

The use of her first name made Shaw close her eyes and count to ten. Obviously, Root had asked someone about her. That was almost as infuriating as her invasion of privacy. In fact, it was just another form of invasion. She opened her eyes again, glaring at Root.

"You're seriously pissing me off. Get away from my art right now, or there will be consequences."

"Ooh," Root breathed, shivering dramatically. "Promise?"

Shaw almost screamed in frustration, but Root slid backward off the stool, pulling her hands out of her pockets and holding them up defensively. She grinned at Shaw, gesturing to her sketchbook.

"You really are good." She squatted down and picked up a roll of paper. Pulling it open, she looked it over. It was a color pastel drawing Shaw had done of Piazza San Marco. "Do you only draw from reference photos?"

"That's none of your fucking business." Shaw started snatching up her drawings, holding them in her arms. "Where the fuck are my rubber bands?"

Raising her eyebrows, Root stood up, still holding the drawing. "You're really angry, aren't you?"

"Yes," Shaw snapped. She fought the impulse to throw all her work onto the floor again. "The whole fucking point of having a private studio is the PRIVATE part. I don't need some busybody looking through all my shit and critiquing it. I get enough bullshit from teachers."

Root hummed softly and slowly rolled the paper in her hand tightly. She pulled a rubber band from the pocket of her hoodie and secured it. Setting it onto her own still horizontal table, she kept her eyes on Shaw and took the rest of the rubber bands out of her pocket. She let Shaw snatch them from her.

Her thoughtful gaze was annoying, but Shaw was just thankful to get all her bands back. She'd spent three years losing supplies in the shared studio spaces. This should be the year she didn't lose anything. Instead, she was sharing a room with a thief who didn't understand personal property. The irony was not lost on Shaw.

She knew that her frustration wasn't all for Root. It had been a critique day in her life drawing class and her teacher had given her another lecture on finding her 'heart' and her 'passion.' Shaw really enjoyed doing detail work and spending a lot of time getting art just right. She wanted to work at a museum and create exhibits and spaces. That didn't need heart. It needed a firm understanding of style and technique and perspective. Shaw had that. Fuck 'heart.'

There had to be a Master's program that would accept her, even if her art wasn't emotional. What if her self-expression was in the details? Why couldn't the teachers see how much she wanted this? Just because it was different didn't mean it wasn't real.

Dropping her drawings onto her side table, she started rolling them up again and wrapping the rubber bands around them. All of this could be thrown away, truthfully. It was just practice, but Shaw knew that her mom would want to see them. When she had enough, she'd fill a box and mail them home for her. Since her father died, her mom had been really supportive of her art and Shaw wasn't going to disappoint her by throwing it all out.

The rustle of paper made her look to her right. Root was helping her organize the drawings again. Her brown eyes flicked to Shaw's and away, focusing on the paper in her hands. She reached for a rubber band and slid it down the thin roll.

"I'm sorry," Root said quietly. "I know it can get stressful. I'm stressed right now, too. I'm… I've got a block, so I was just taking a break. I would have put it back. Sorry."

Shaw wasn't forgiving her that easily, but she felt her anger lessen somewhat. Root wasn't out to get her. She was a student, too. Instead of responding, Shaw just kept rolling her drawings. There were almost twenty of them, but with Root's help it only took a minute. When they were all secured, Root scooped them up and walked back to the corner where Shaw kept them.

As she put them back neatly, Shaw leaned against her drawing table. "I'm still angry. Stress isn't an excuse for anything."

"It's not," Root agreed. She put the last drawing into place and stood up. "But it's my reason, I guess. I'll try not to be so nosy. No promises, though."

"You never promise anything." Shaw rolled her eyes and sat on her stool, looking over at Root's abandoned sculpture. "I hope you didn't promise that to anyone."

A shadow passed over Root's face and she looked away, moving to her side of the small room. "It's not due for a while."

"Is clay sculpture your focus?"

Root grinned, her mood suddenly improving. "I didn't expect you to care."

"I don't," Shaw snorted. She waved dismissively and turned her back on Root to look at her sketchbook. "Forget I asked."

"No way!" There was a squeak behind her as Root sat on her stool. "Clay sculpture is my focus, yes, but I also work with bronze and I do lighting installations. I'm really good with computers and I like to keep my skills sharp by programming complex pieces."

Keeping her face down, Shaw smiled. That made sense. The last time Shaw had seen her, she'd been wearing a shirt with binary on it. "Art and computer science are two very different fields." Shaw started flipping through her sketchbook to a blank page.

"Not really," Root answered. "I think about it like this: the world is chaotic and cold and there is no plan or design. With art, and computers, I can design and plan my own world. That's what an installation is - a whole world of my own. Computers are the thoughts and art is the heart."

That word made Shaw scowl and she flipped her sketchbook close, her bad mood ruining her motivation. Of course Root would know all about 'heart.' She was probably overflowing with it. Shaw could still make art, though. It was Root who was having a block.

Deciding to get something out of the arrangement, Shaw spun her stool around and leaned back to rest her elbows on the drawing table. "I've got a question." Before Root could protest, Shaw held her hand up. "You owe me for being annoying, so you have to answer."

Root raised an eyebrow, but she nodded. "Of course you can see me naked, Sameen. You don't even have to ask."

Groaning, Shaw gave her the middle finger. "Forget it."

"No, ask me! Ask me!" Root laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I'll behave."

Shaw didn't trust that at all, but she lowered her hand and relaxed against the table again. "So, I keep getting the same note. I have great technique, but no 'heart.' No personal style. I've been doing art my whole life, but I have a hard time making anything original. Even the stuff that I make that's "original" is mostly just elementals from different works put into something new. How do you get a personal style?"

"That's a good question." Root thought about it for a moment, looking serious. She seemed like she was really thinking about Shaw's question. For the first time, Shaw could see that Root wasn't all fluff and flirt. "I don't think you 'get' a personal style. I think you 'have' one. From what I've seen of your work, you lean toward realism, but avoid people as much as possible. Your Piazza San Marco drawing is amazing, but you chose to draw it without anyone in it."

"People get in the way," Shaw said, shrugging. "What's the point of spending hours drawing something if half the buildings are obscured by people?"

Root chuckled. "That's a good question! So, there's a personal style choice. You also prefer traditional art to digital, so there's another. Considering how many pieces you have and how much detail each one has, I'd say that you pour your heart into your work. It takes a lot of love to spend so much time with a piece."

"Sure." Shaw frowned, not sure if Root's answer made her feel any better. "But… How do I get my professors to stop giving me Bs and start giving me As."

"Do you make your art for them?" Root challenged. "I make art for myself. I learn what I can and figure the rest out myself. I'm getting my Master's because I want to teach and get a university to pay me for what I would be doing anyway."

That made Shaw laugh and Root's smile widened. The more Shaw talked with her, the more it seemed like Root was some chaos entity. She did whatever she wanted and didn't let rules or expectations stop her. Shaw felt like the opposite; she thrived on order and organization. Root was right, though. Grades didn't really matter if she was making the art she wanted to make.

"Thanks," Shaw muttered, nodding at Root. "That helped."

"Anytime!" Root jumped, something startling her, and reached into her pants pocket to pull out her phone. Her smile fell from her face and she typed out a message. "Shit."

Shaw almost asked her what was wrong before remembering she didn't care. Now that their conversation was over, she turned back to her table and opened her sketchbook again. Root's comment about not drawing people made her think, and she wanted to work on some figure drawing. Finding a blank page, Shaw looked at her reference books and picked up the right one.

She rarely just did figure drawing and it was probably her weakest area. That didn't mean she was bad at it, but it wasn't something she enjoyed and so she didn't do it a lot. Flicking through the book, she settled on a Degas painting and put the book down.

"I did ballet," Root said from beside her. Shaw looked at her calmly and Root seemed disappointed that she hadn't jumped. "I'm just saying. If you need a model, I'd be more than happy to provide. I'm totally comfortable with nudity."

"So you've said," Shaw replied, opening her pencil case. "I'll let you know."

"You'd better." Root leaned against her, chest pushing into her back. She wrapped her arms around Shaw's shoulders like they were friends. "Draw me like one of your french girls, Sameen."

Shrugging her off, Shaw just sighed. "Put on a tutu and I'll think about it." She smiled. "No promises, though."

Root laughed and moved away from her. "I've gotta jet. Girl trouble."

"You're trouble," Shaw mumbled to herself as Root walked out the door.

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Shaw dabbed her brush onto her palette, gathering more soft yellow onto the tiny brush. One of her favorite things to paint was wild grass. She loved the way it could move in the wind, adding depth and color to an otherwise tame landscape. Glancing at the picture she'd taped beside her canvas, she started adding highlights to her grassy field.

It was odd to be in the studio alone now, even if it was what she wanted. After their first real conversation a month ago, they'd been getting along pretty well. Most days, they worked in silence. Shaw did homework and worked on sketching out her final project and Root made progress on her sculpture. Remembering she hadn't looked at it today, Shaw put her paintbrush down and stood up off her stool.

Her body protested the movement and she stretched with a groan. Sometimes, she got too focused on work and forgot to move around. She hadn't taken any jobs for the past two weeks, choosing school over money. It was nice to relax, but she wasn't getting as much exercise as she usually did. She wasn't even going to the gym everyday. Fortunately, she'd brought her gym bag and a change of clothing to the studio today. She made a mental note to go soon.

Crossing the room, Shaw stood in front of Root's sculpture, looking it over. It was a woman, about three feet tall and impressively detailed. Shaw didn't know too much about sculpture having only taken the required courses, but she liked Root's a lot. It was realistic, almost life-like, and Shaw wondered if it was based on a real person.

Shaw was almost jealous of the woman, if she was real. Root obviously spent a lot of time looking at her. Turning the small rolling table, Shaw took in all the details. The woman was wearing a backpack that hung open like she'd forgotten to zip it. It was stuffed with too many books and sat low from the weight. The woman was wearing a dress and it flowed in an invisible wind along with her hair. The woman looked thoughtful.

The heart in this was visible, and Shaw's jealousy grew just a little. She had a lot of sex with anyone she wanted, but she could barely remember their faces. None of them really knew her and she doubted she'd even told any of them her name. It didn't bother her. Taking in this statue, seeing the way Root obviously really knew this woman, Shaw kind of wished Root knew her, too.

That would take more effort than Shaw was willing to put into a random studio-mate. She already spent more time with Root than she spent with anyone, even Reese. If she was really aching for company, she could always spend more time at her apartment. Reese wasn't nearly as attractive as Root was, though, or as interesting. In the few conversations they'd had, Shaw had been captivated by Root's view of the world.

Somehow, Root saw everything as both organized and chaotic. It was like she was a new god put down on Earth to shake up what was set and set what was wild. Clearly it helped her art. Shaw might learn a thing or two. Maybe she'd try to talk with Root more. It would certainly improve her chances of having sex with her.

The door to the studio opened and Shaw winced. Hadn't she been the one to blow up at Root because she was looking at her art? Now Shaw was the one snooping. She turned around, smiling sheepishly.

The smile fell from her face as she took in Root's soaking wet clothes and scowling face. Shaw hadn't even heard the rain, but Root must have gotten caught in it. Her frown deepened when she saw Shaw standing beside her sculpture.

Root let the door close and started unzipping her heavy coat. "It's pretty good, right?"

"Yeah," Shaw answered. She moved forward and helped Root take her coat off. "You're going to get sick like this."

Snorting, Root let Shaw take her coat and drape it over the radiator beside the door. "Doesn't really matter. I can't do anything about it."

Hesitating, Shaw looked over Root again, taking in her drowned appearance. She sighed. "I have a change of clothes, if you want it. It's shorts, but you can wear them while your pants dry."

"Oh." Root's shoulders slumped and she pushed her hair back. "I'd love that. Thanks."

Shaw nodded and reached under her table for her gym bag, setting it on her stool. As she opened it and pulled the dry clothing out, she eyed Root's sculpture. "Who is she?"

"A...friend." Root pulled her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor with a squelch. Her dark blue bra stood out against her pale skin and Shaw had to take a deep breath. It was unfair for anyone to be that hot. Root sat on her stool to untie her boots. "She was a friend."

Root sounded frustrated and Shaw decided not to push. Instead, she brought Root the dry clothes. Kicking her shoes off, Root stood up again and quickly took her jeans and socks off. She took the clothing from Shaw and dressed. The t-shirt and gym shorts looked out of place on her, but Shaw enjoyed the view of her bare legs.

She had to admit she liked how Root looked in her clothes. It was like Root was hers, too. That was a weird thought and Shaw pushed it away. She was focusing on work this semester and she didn't even want a girlfriend. She didn't even like Root. She just tolerated her and didn't want to get sick.

A loud sigh brought her attention back to Root's face. Root picked up her clothing from the ground and moved to the radiator. She spread them out as best she could and then turned to give Shaw a tired smile.

"Girls are more trouble than they're worth," Root said. She walked back to look at her sculpture. "You should be lucky you only like boys."

"I like both," Shaw told her. She went to her stool and sat down, keeping an eye on Root. "I can tell you that they're both trouble."

Root combed her fingers through her wet hair. "Well, that's some relief at least. I guess." She glanced at Shaw. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," Shaw chuckled. "I don't have time for a social life right now." She paused. "Well, I guess I spend time with you. That's something."

"It is," Root replied, smiling. She dropped her arms. "You're my steadiest relationship right now."

"Well, that's because I'm stuck with you."

That comment seemed to hurt Root and she looked away. Shaw wondered if she should feel upset, but it was the truth. The only reason she'd even met Root was because they'd both been assigned the same studio. If Root hadn't been so easy to share a room with, Shaw would have complained and then they wouldn't even spend this time together.

Suddenly, Root slammed her fists into the clay statue, smashing it. She grabbed chunks of it with her long fingers and ripped them off. Her drawing table clattered loudly as she threw the pieces onto it. Within seconds she'd destroyed her entire sculpture. Panting, she turned on Shaw with wild eyes.

"Is spending time with me so awful?" she asked, sounding frantic. "Am I so terrible to be around? Do I torture you with my company?"

"Um-"

"I'm not a bad person! Work is important to me and I have to live. My art needs my attention, too. I can't be available all the time and that's a problem, then you can go fuck yourself!"

Shaw raised her eyebrows, watching as Root grabbed a handful of her sculpting tools and threw them against the wall. Even she could tell that Root was going through something personal. Slowly, Shaw reached down to pick up a finished paper sketch from the pile. She'd sent a batch to her mother a few weeks ago, so she didn't really need to keep these around. Pulling the rubber band off, Shaw held the tube out to Root.

"Here," she said, "tear it up."

Root snatched it from her hands and unrolled it, tearing it easily. With soft grunts, she tore it to pieces until it was just confetti. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Shaw expectantly. Getting the hint, Shaw smirked and picked up another one.

After five sketches, Root finally seemed to calm down. She sat on her stool and stared at the board her sculpture used to stand on. Wiping her forehead, she gave Shaw an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm-"

"Stressed," Shaw interrupted. "I remember. These drawings are all up for grabs. Feel free to destroy them."

"Thanks," Root laughed, holding her hands up. "I'll leave them be, though. I know you like to keep those." A phone rang and Root turned to look at her pants, still drying. She didn't move to pick it up. "That's her."

"Sculpture girl? Your… friend?"

Root nodded solemnly. "Yup. Probably ex-friend now. Well, you can't keep them all."

Shaw wasn't sure how to respond to that. Reese was really her only friend. Joss was a friend now, too. At least as long as she and Reese were dating. There wasn't much that could come between her and Reese. They'd probably be friends forever, even if they ended up in different cities. Both of them were low maintenance, though, and 'friendship' was just occasional confirmation they were still alive.

"Did something happen?" Shaw tried, looking at Root's pants as the phone kept ringing. "Should you get that?"

Root sighed and stood up. "Yeah." She hesitated. "Could I have the room? I don't want to kick you out, but…"

"I get it." Shaw stood, too, and zipped her gym bag up. She took her coat from where she'd thrown it earlier and put it on. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thanks." Root smiled at her. "I'll give you a few days alone in return."

Shaw shrugged and picked up her bag. "Don't worry about it. I don't mind sharing."

Pulling her phone from her pants, Root just mumbled her thanks. Leaving the room, Shaw closed the door silently behind her and started down the hallway. She wondered what the sculpture had been for and if Root was going to have to re-make it quickly. It had taken her a month to finish it, so she'd have to start again right away if it was due soon. Shaw decided not to worry about it and headed for the gym.

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Two weeks later, Shaw opened the door to the studio and sighed. She hadn't seen Root at all since she'd destroyed her sculpture, but it seemed she was back. Every piece of furniture in the studio was covered with a thick sheet of plastic. Even Shaw's stack of sketches had its own small covering. Somewhere under all the plastic, something was playing dance music.

On the far wall, a number of balloons had been pinned to the wall and they hung heavily. Long brightly colored streaks ran down the wall, telling Shaw that the balloons were full of paint. She watched as Root, wearing a large trash bag as a poncho, tossed a dart at a balloon. It popped and she cheered loudly.

Beside her, a beautiful woman in a matching trash bag poncho cheered, too. Her long dirty-blonde hair was tied up in a perfect bun and Shaw noticed a purse and a pair of high heels underneath a small square of plastic. She wondered if this was the Girl Trouble, or if Root actually had friends. That would be surprising.

The two of them looked like they were having a good time, but Shaw wasn't in the mood for a dance-and-paint-balloon party. She'd had another rough critique and she really just wanted to do some figure drawing. Ever since she'd started doing sketches as practice, she'd found herself interested in drawing people again. It was still a skill that needed work, but she was trying.

Root glanced over her shoulder at Shaw and grinned. "Sameen!" She turned, revealing a can of wine in her hand. Toasting Shaw, she shimmied her shoulders. "Come play with us!"

"No, thanks," she answered, grimacing. "Not today."

She started to reach for the door, but Root hurried over to her and grabbed her arm. "Don't you want to throw some sharp things? You can aim for the red ones and pretend it's your professor."

"That's so morbid," Root's maybe-girlfriend said, laughing. She took a sip of her own canned wine, looking at Shaw. "Who's your professor?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Finch. He tells me my work lacks emotion."

"Fuck him!" Root screamed, throwing her arm around Shaw and almost hitting her in the face with her can. "Throw a dart at him!"

Laughing despite her bad mood, Shaw dropped her bag onto the plastic covered floor. "Fuck it."

Root and her maybe friend cheered again and the dirty-blonde woman pulled the darts from the wall. Taking Root's can of wine from her hand, Shaw downed it quickly. She wasn't going to be the only sober one in the tiny room. When she handed the empty can to Root, their eyes met.

Root's pupils were wide, her eyes fixed on Shaw. They were standing very close and Shaw wondered what would happen if she just kissed her. Surely, the dirty-blonde woman would leave and let them get to it. She imagined Root's body splattered with paint, accentuating her natural blush. Before she could do anything, Root blinked and took the can from her.

Pushing Shaw toward the third woman, Root stumbled away to her own desk. The woman with an unknown relationship to Root grinned and held the darts out to Shaw. She took them and looked down at the floor to get her footing.

"Wait!" Root said, shoving a trash bag at her. "Don't get paint on your clothes."

Shaw rolled her eyes and gave the darts back to the woman. "Well, let me take my coat off then."

"Is this your hot studio-mate?" the new woman asked before taking another sip of wine. "You said 'hot,' but you didn't say how hot."

Taking her coat off, Shaw looked at Root with raised eyebrows. She hadn't expected Root to go around talking about her, much less calling her hot. Root blushed, spinning around and pulling two more cans of wine from her backpack.

"This is her," she said, holding the cans and watching Shaw step out of her shoes. "Shaw, this is Zoe, my roommate. She's getting her Master's, too. Arts Administration."

Shaw felt relieved that this was just Root's roommate, and not her girlfriend. She told herself the relief was because she didn't want to deal with any relationship drama. It had nothing to do with knowing Root was probably still available.

"Nice to meet you," Zoe murmured into her can. She gave Shaw a once over. "Are you single?"

"Oh my god." Root tapped her foot impatiently as Shaw took her socks off and put the trash bag on. "Zoe isn't gay," she told Shaw, giving her a can. "She's just too nosy for her own good."

Cracking her wine open, Shaw smirked. "You're one to talk."

"Enough blabber!" Zoe dropped the darts into Shaw's free hand. "Kill Finch!"

Three cans of wine later, Shaw was drunk and her accuracy had greatly decreased. She threw a dart at the last balloon, missing it by several inches. Zoe laughed from her seat on Shaw's stool.

"I think we might be done." She rested her fingers on flushed cheeks. "I am, anyway. I need a nap."

Root pouted, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor beneath the paint balloons. "Aw, don't leave me alone."

"What am I?" Shaw asked, dropping her empty can onto the small pile they'd made. "Chopped liver?"

"Are you going to stay?" Root asked hopefully. Her pout shifted into a grin and she looked at Zoe. "You can go."

Zoe rolled her eyes, but she stood up carefully. "Enjoy your drunken art making." She gave Root a meaningful look. "Have fun."

Shaw looked between them, sneaking behind Zoe to sit on the unoccupied stool. Root was glaring at Zoe, but the effect was lessened by the soft blush on her cheeks. Shaw couldn't tell if it was because she was drunk or because she was embarrassed. It didn't really matter. Stepping into her shoes and grabbing her coat, Zoe left them alone.

"That was fun," Shaw said, plucking at the trash bag she was still wearing. "A good stress reliever."

"Yeah," Root mumbled. She pulled her legs and arms into her large trash bag. It made her look like a shiny beetle, only her human head visible. "Violence is good for that. Even a little violence."

Raising an eyebrow, Shaw wondered what kind of violence Root usually got up to. Probably not the same kind she did. Root gave her a bleary smile, leaning her head back against the wall. The room was quiet and Shaw realized the music had stopped. Root's phone must have died. That was probably for the best.

She tried to decide if she wanted to ask about Root's Girl Trouble, or if she could just pretend she was too drunk to stay in the studio. Annoyingly, Shaw found that she wanted to know what was bothering Root. They'd only known each other for two months, but Shaw was interested in the taller woman's life. Her perspective was different than other people's, not in the same way as Shaw, but still. It was refreshing.

"So…" Shaw started, blinking slowly and fighting the fog that wanted to take over her mind. "Zoe isn't your ex-friend, I'm guessing."

Root laughed breathily, the sound little more than air. "No. Hanna is my ex-friend."

"Hanna," Shaw repeated, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Sounds like a bitch."

This time, Root laughed for real, the trash bag shaking as her shoulders moved. Shaw smiled with pride at the sound. She felt like she was seeing Root in a new light. The last time they'd both been in the studio, Root had been angry and that was new, too. This felt the same. It was like Root's flirty, confident veneer was gone and she was just a tired student, like Shaw.

"Hanna isn't a bitch," Root sighed, still smiling. "She's just… straight."

"Ew." Shaw leaned forward, winking at Root. "No one should be straight."

A grin spread across Root's face and she took an arm out of the trash bag to pat the floor beside her. "Come here. You're so far."

Hesitating, Shaw didn't stand. She wasn't looking for anything serious, but maybe Root wasn't either. They could have sex and keep it casual. Although, Root had just gone through a sort of break-up. Maybe she was looking for a rebound. Maybe she just needed to let off some steam.

Root rolled her eyes and pulled her arm back into her bag. "Relax. I'm not going to propose to you because I'm heartbroken. I'm not even heartbroken."

"Cool," Shaw breathed, standing. She felt unsteady and wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or the prospect of touching Root. "Move over. I'm not going to sit against the paint."

Smiling, Root scooted over, moving closer to her rolling table and freeing some clean space on the wall. Shaw walked to her, dropping down beside her. Their shoulders rubbed together, the trash bags squelching as the brushed. They grinned at each other, drunkenly amused by the weird noise.

"What about you?" Root asked suddenly.

Shaw blinked. "What about me?"

"Who is your girl trouble?"

"You," Shaw answered, bumping her shoulder against Root. "Always in my business. Always distracting me."

Root leaned close, eyes glinting dangerously. "You like it. I'm entertaining."

Shaw glared at her. The intimidation tactic didn't seem to work on Root. She just leaned in closer, her eyes dropping to Shaw's lips. Her pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips and Shaw mirrored her, licking her own lips. The messy hair, flushed cheeks, and wet lips made Root irresistible and Shaw closed the distance between them, kissing her gently.

A soft growl rumbled in Root's throat and Shaw opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. Root's mouth was insistent against her own, hot and needy. Shaw ripped open Root's trash bag, freeing her arms and throwing the thin plastic aside. Root started tearing Shaw's bag as Shaw gripped her waist.

Once Shaw's bag was gone, Root surged forward and pressed her chest against Shaw's. It wasn't enough to touch Root through her clothes, and Shaw yanked her shirt up so she could run her hands over soft, smooth skin. Root groaned as Shaw touched her and pushed Shaw back, covering her and shifting her mouth to Shaw's neck.

Root nipped at her skin, tongue swiping against her pulse. Closing her eyes, Shaw let her legs fall open so Root's hips could nestle between them. Firm hands found their way under Shaw's shirt and bra, squeezing her breasts. Panting, Shaw reached between them to unbutton Root's pants and stick her hand inside.

She needed to touch Root and hear her gasp. Root pulled away and took her shirt off. Sitting up, too, Shaw took her own shirt off, her sports bra following it. She wiggled out of her tight pants, taking her underwear with them. As soon as they were both naked, Root shoved her down again, straddling one of Shaw's thighs and crushing their lips together.

Normally, Shaw was the one on top, controlling the action, but Root was so confident and her mouth sucked on Shaw's bottom lip, distracting her. She ground down on Shaw's thigh, whimpering as she tried to get friction. Reaching between them again, Shaw's fingers slipped over Root's clit, finding her hot and wet. Root lifted her head to moan and shifted downwards.

Shaw couldn't touch her anymore, her arms not long enough. Instead, she touched herself, fingers rubbing tight circles. Root's hand wrapped around Shaw's and moved it aside, replacing it with her mouth. Gasping as Root sucked on sensitive skin, Shaw grabbed her breasts, squeezing until pain shot through her body.

She couldn't bring herself to care how she sounded or looked. The mix of wine and Root lowered her defenses and she focused on the heat spreading through her body. Root pushed two fingers into her, curling them and making Shaw squirm. Taking her mouth off Shaw, Root moved upwards to cover Shaw again, her fingers still fucking her.

When she was close enough, Shaw put her hand between them, finding Root's entrance and thrusting inside. Dropping her face to Shaw's chest, Root rode her fingers, panting. Root came first, a moan ripping from her throat as she bucked on Shaw's fingers. The sight and sound of Root above her sent Shaw over the edge and she gasped, her own orgasm making her muscles clench and her back arch off the floor. The plastic sheeting clung to her sweaty skin.

Root slumped down, her weight falling onto Shaw. Instead of pushing her off, Shaw wrapped her arms around Root's shoulders to hold her in place. Root held Shaw's waist, turning her head to rest on Shaw's sharp collarbone. The room was warm and the body on top of her was comfortable and soft. Shaw kept her eyes closed, feeling herself start to fall asleep.

In any other circumstance, when she was totally sober and didn't even know her sex partner's name, she would leave immediately. This felt different and she let herself relax. Root drew a deep breath and her body started to relax, too.

"I'm sleeping here," Root mumbled. "See you later."

Shaw chuckled softly. "When I wake up, I'm kicking you out."

"M'kay." Root nuzzled her face against Shaw. "This doesn't have to mean anything."

"It doesn't." Shaw wiggled to get more comfortable and patted Root's hair. "Sleep."

The door to the studio opened and they sat up quickly, startled and naked. A brunette woman stood in the doorway, looking shocked. Shaw recognized her as the sculpture that Root had ruined and scowled, annoyed that Hanna was interrupting her nap.

"Oh," Hanna gasped, slapping a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"Close the door," Shaw snapped, climbing to her feet. She wasn't interested in being present for an argument between Root and Root's straight girl crush. Especially because that crush had caught them tangled together, naked. Snatching up her clothing, Shaw glanced at the door and saw that Hanna was still just standing there covering her eyes. "Shut the fucking door."

Hanna nodded and fumbled for it blindly. Finding it, she closed it loudly. Dressing quickly, Shaw pushed loose strands of hair from her face, pointedly not looking at Root. A quick, drunk fuck didn't matter and Shaw wasn't suddenly invested in Root's drama. She finished putting her shoes on and moved to her backpack.

"You don't have to go," Root said, sounding frustrated. When Shaw glanced at her, she was dressed, too. Her face was still flushed and she was staring at Shaw. "Hanna isn't staying."

That finally made Hanna lower her hand. She looked surprised. "What? I wanted to talk." Her eyes flicked to Shaw and back to Root. "Unless… You weren't serious before?"

Root rolled her eyes. "I was, but I'm not going to wait around for you anymore. It's been weeks. You said no, several times, and I got the message."

"I still want to be friends," Hanna protested. "Just friends."

This was already too much for Shaw to deal with and she picked her bag up, slinging it over her shoulder. The pleasant drunk she had was gone. A headache was started to form behind her eyes. She gestured around the room to the plastic sheeting.

"Clean this up. I have to work on my midterm project tomorrow."

Root nodded, but she still looked annoyed. "Just stay and I'll clean it up now."

"I'm not in the mood," Shaw snapped. She shook her head. "Sort out your girl trouble. I'll see you later."

She yanked the door open and left the studio. Root was too much drama and Shaw shouldn't have given in to her attraction. Just because she was sharing a space with Root didn't mean she had to be a part of her life. Shaw wasn't interested in any attachments. She was going to graduate, get her Master's, and then get a job at a museum. A girlfriend, or even a reoccurring sex partner, wasn't a part of that plan. Maybe if Root's life finally calmed down… Shaw rolled her eyes at herself. She needed a distraction.