Work Text:
It starts with a drunk Tom hanging off Ann's shoulder at a work party, slurring something about a business meeting with Kanye in the morning, and Ann just rolls her eyes and tips back the glass of champagne she's holding, tan neck bobbing as she swallows.
"If you and Kanye intend to collaborate on business investments in European countries then I hope you'll take into account the failing status of the euro, Tom," says Ann, probably because she's feeling irritated, and angry, and like a little bit depressed.
Tom responds with something like, "Naaaah, he's gon' teach me how to dougie," which doesn't even really make sense because that's some other rapper, and even a drunk Tom is a Tom who knows his rappers, but anyway the point is
"You're doing a really good job of solving your desperate loneliness by dating guys who are way dumber than you," April deadpans (which is like her only speech pattern anyway), and Andy's all Whoooaaaa and makes a quick detour to drunk!Ben because he really hates confrontational social situations, especially ones that involve Ann and April. Or yeah, pretty much anything that involves Ann and April in the same room.
Ann narrows her eyes and makes her What face (it's a dumb face), and April's banking on her coming back with something not-actually-insulting-because-she's-boring-and-nice like What the hell, April, you're the one who set us up, but instead it's
"Yeah, well at least I don't marry them." Which, like, burns.
Drunk!Tom slumps over, slobbering into Ann's shoulder as his limp arms flail around her neck, and oh fucking hell she's actually picking him up now, the little shit's actually getting carried to his car by his girlfriend.
April watches Ann walk away and thinks, All right.
-
Ann's been single for over a year now, and she's starting to get pissed off. She snaps more often at her friends, uses sarcasm on Leslie because she knows it'll go right over her head, drinks, laughs harsher now.
At first April hated her because of the whole Andy thing, obviously, but as that started to get less and less relevant she kind of hated her for how fucking nice she was. Like, who the fuck can put up a front for that long. And if it wasn't a front, God, how boring did you have to be.
But now, like... There's this time where this reporter from the Pawnee Journal comes to interview Ann about public health or whatever, and they're in the main part of the office and April's at her desk and she can hear him asking these fuckass questions, trying to dig into her personal life like, Does your job get in the way of your relationship oh you're not in a relationship hahaha neither am I how funny, and Ann's like. Totally just bullshitting him, and he doesn't even realize it, that's how good she is, like:
What inspired you to become a nurse, was it your parents?
My parents are dead
and it's actually really hilarious. But Ann's got a dead straight look on her face through the whole thing, so like, kudos.
Well. Almost the whole thing.
You must stay like really fit, really healthy, you know, since you're in charge of public health and all, says the guy, and Ann's all like Actually I have herpes.
And April smiles. Just a little bit. And Ann looks over and smiles just a little bit too.
-
April likes the mean parts of people, the parts that people hide away because they're ugly or unacceptable or dark.
Andy doesn't have any mean parts.
-
The day that Andy asks which World War had the Jews in it is the day April goes over to Ann's house.
Ann opens the door to her quaint little home and looks surprised. (The house would've suited her before, back when she was quaint, but now it seems like irony that she lives there at all.)
"Oh. April. Hi."
"D'you have any food," asks April, sliding past Ann and brushing her hip as she steps inside. It's, like, mostly an accident.
"Um... I've got vodka," Ann offers helpfully, gesturing to the bottle on the coffee table. It's a nice coffee table, like out of Martha Stewart or something, and the vodka looks really out of place sitting there. Stacy from What Not to Wear says on the TV, "We don't have to hide those puppies, girlfriend, let's let 'em free, all right?"
"What Not to Wear is like my favorite show," says April, "and vodka is my favorite of all the basic juices."
Ann warily shuts the door closed behind her, turning to place a hand on her hip and narrow her eyes again. "I can never tell if you're kidding or not."
"I'm not," April answers, blank-faced, flopping onto the couch and tipping back the vodka straight from the bottle. But she is.
"Okay, what—" Ann finally begins, waving her hands in the air to animate her confusion. And making her What face. It's a dumb face. "What are you doing here, April, at three in the afternoon on a Saturday. In my house. Drinking my vodka."
"We're friends," shrugs April, which has been weirdly true these last few months. "Isn't that like what friends do?"
Ann's eyes narrow further, and April can see she's irritated and angry and like a little bit depressed. "We're not friends," she says.
"You're right," says April, and she kisses her.