Work Text:
“Girlfriend” is probably pushing it, really; even “friends with benefits” seems to imply levels of something that they’re not particularly good at or invested in. Christine has no work/life balance these days, and she doubts Marci has ever had it; she certainly doesn’t anymore. They work and they work and they work and they cross paths at the breakfast bar or in the bathroom or, if they’re lucky, in the bedroom, and then back out into the fray.
It’s possibly something to do with being a woman in a man’s world, but it’s probably more that glittery career ladder, promising everything and nothing and addictive once your feet have cleared the first rungs.
Technically, they moved in together last August; Christine remembers bickering over each other’s taste in furniture and kisses that tasted of champagne, but mostly they take it in turns to cover the office in paperwork and order in takeout that languishes in the fridge until one of them remembers to throw it away. They go to work events and take delight in confusing each other’s bosses – always all men; always – by not clarifying their relationship: are they girlfriends? Roommates? College acquaintances?
In between fighting their own battles and periodically each other’s and wearing the same shoe size and bitching over who wore the tan Louboutins – “I said I wanted them for my court date” – there’s sex, attended to with the same level of determined aggression that they bring to everything.
Whatever it is, it’s really something.