Work Text:
Erica knows it's not professional to hide under her desk to make a phone call, but she can't leave the office and this is private. Besides, it's not like Derek will fire her. She's too good at her job. And this is an emergency.
She scrunches up a little further under the desk and calls Cora.
"What?" Cora sounds grumpier than usual when she answers.
"I need a pep talk," Erica says.
Cora groans. "It's ten a.m., it's my day off, and I'm in bed next to a very sexy redhead."
"The hot French girl is coming in today to fill out the last of her paperwork," Erica whisper-yells. Clearly Cora isn't taking this as seriously as she should. "It's the last day I'll see her!"
"Oh my God," Cora says, the words muffled. Probably by a pillow.
Damn Cora and the work hours that allow her to be in bed at ten a.m. on a Thursday. Erica sticks her tongue out at the phone. "Come on, five minutes of a pep talk and then you and Lydia can go back to being nauseating."
"I'm sticking my tongue out at you, just so you know," Cora grumbles. "Just get her number! You're sexy as hell, you're funny, you're confident ninety percent of the time—"
"Hey!"
"You're hiding under your desk to make this phone call, aren't you?"
Erica shifts and tugs her miniskirt back under her ass.
"That's beside the point."
"Ugh, look, just ask! The worst that happens, she says no and you're right where you are now. The best that happens? She says yes and you get a date! And we get to have this conversation in person tomorrow night when Lydia and I help you pick out what you're going to wear."
Erica lets her head thud against the underside of the desk. Really, she'd thought she'd gotten rid of most of her anxieties after high school, but drop her into a situation with adorable brunettes with pale skin and dimpled smiles, and apparently every last one of them comes surging back. "I can't just ask for her cell, I—"
"For the love of—" another voice cuts in, and there's a scuffling noise on the other end of the phone. "Erica Diane Reyes. Get. Her. Number. For pity's sake, she can't be any more terrifying than Jackson Whittemore and you put the fear of God into him after he dumped me senior year."
"Jackson was a punk," Erica says viciously. "And putting the fear of God into someone is easier than flirting with them."
"Oh honey," Lydia says. "It's the same principle. You just make your smile a little less 'fuck you' and a little more 'fuck me.'"
The elevator dings, and Erica curses and scrambles out from under the desk. "Shit, gotta go."
"Go get her," Lydia says, and Erica can hear Cora singing "Eye of the Tiger" in the background.
Her friends, honestly.
Erica slides into her chair, checks her hair and makeup in her computer monitor, and pulls a couple of blond curls back into place from her quick trip under the desk. Her makeup is still on point, though.
And thank God for that, because the glass door of the law office swings open just then and Allison Argent walks in, wearing a black pencil skirt and heels and a crisp white shirt that makes Erica's mouth water.
Allison smiles, all perfect teeth and cute dimples. "Erica, good to see you."
Erica stands up to shake her hand and doesn't even wobble a little bit. "Miss Argent, likewise."
Allison laughs and Erica falls a little more in love. "How many times have I told you to call me Allison?"
"Only once or twice," Erica says with a completely straight face.
It just makes Allison laugh again, bubbly and adorable.
Erica's heart patters at the sound, and she searches for something else to say. She gestures at the binder Allison's holding. "So, ready to get that final paperwork signed?"
Allison rolls her eyes theatrically. "Oh my God, you have no idea. This contract has taken over my life for this past month. I'm so ready to kick it out the door."
Erica grins, because that is a sentiment she's very familiar with. "I hear that. Gonna break open the champagne when you get the signatures?"
"The champagne, the Thai food, the entire weekend of blessed, blessed sleep." Allison's eyes flutter shut and she throws her head back. "God, I can't wait."
Erica has to jerk her eyes away from Allison's pale throat and tamps down on the other things she wants to do that could make her eyes flutter like that. "That sounds like an amazing way to celebrate."
"Yeah." Allison smiles, and it might just be Erica's imagination, but it looks...shy. "I have to say, I'll miss our chats when I've had to lug the paperwork back and forth."
Oh God. This is it. This is the perfect opening. Erica screws up her courage and leans forward, plastering her most flirtatious smile on her face. "Same. Tell you what, why—"
The inner office door bangs open, and Derek strides out, looking a little harried. "Oh, Allison! You're early, excellent. If you come on in, we can get started and have you on your way."
Erica is going to strangle him.
Allison gives Erica an apologetic look, and then smiles at Derek. "That'll be great."
He gestures to the inner office, apparently immune to Erica's attempts to kill him with her mind. "Come in, have a seat. Oh, and Erica? The McMartin appointment just rescheduled for noon. Can you update the calendar?"
"Sure thing, boss," Erica says through her teeth, but Derek and Allison are disappearing into the office, door swinging shut behind them.
Erica drops to her seat and headdesks.
***
Because it wasn't clear enough that the universe hated her, work explodes the moment Erica finishes her mini pity party. In a mere 45 minutes, she's on the phone with five different people, shuffling around Derek's and Peter's appointments, and then Peter wanders out of his office with a giant stack of papers that absolutely must be mailed out immediately. Certified mail.
Erica snarls behind his back, but she grabs the stack of paper and a giant envelope and heads for the nearest post office. It's not yet noon, so hopefully she'll be able to make it a quick trip.
Derek is standing next to her desk when she gets back, flipping through one of the files there.
Erica's heart drops. "Did Allison leave?"
"Yeah, she headed out just a few minutes ago." Derek looks up and frowns. "Why? What's wrong? Did we forget something?"
Erica groans and punches him in the shoulder, but it's only half-hearted. "I was trying to get her number! I was just about to ask when you came in here, and then stupid Peter sent me to the post office because his stupid file can't wait and now I'm never going to see her again and I'm going to die alone because she is perfect."
Her voices whines at the end. Erica's not ashamed. This is worth whining about.
"You're being a little overdramatic," Derek says, but he puts an arm around her shoulder because he's the best boss/friend a girl could ask for. "I don't have her cell phone, but I could give you her office line, if you wanted?"
Erica sighs and rests her head on his shoulder. "No. I think that would be kind of creepy. 'Hi, I'm the secretary you kind-of-sort-of flirted with for the past three weeks, can I get your personal number?'" She shudders. "I want to take her out for coffee and a fuck, not creep her out." She pats his arm. "I appreciate the offer."
Derek snorts. "Anytime. How about I do you one better, and we go out to that club you like tonight?"
Erica stares at him. "The Jungle. You want to go to the Jungle. You, Mr. I Hate Clubbing, want to go to the Jungle."
His cheeks pink, and he coughs. "You love clubbing, though. This way you don't have to badger me into it."
This is why Derek will always be her favorite. Erica kisses him on the cheek and rubs away the red lipstick mark. "You're the best. Pick me up at nine."
***
The club is noisy, vibrant, the music a steady thrum in her veins, and Erica can feel the tension of the day bleeding away as she strides over to the bar with Derek in tow. His discomfort is obvious in the way he hunches in on himself, like he's trying to keep his broad shoulders up as a barrier.
Erica takes pity on him and finagles a seat at the bar. "Here." She pushes him into the chair. "Order me something sweet and super alcoholic, I'm going to hit the dance floor. Cora and Lydia will be here soon."
Derek looks pathetically grateful as he takes the seat. "Are you sure you don't want me to dance with you?"
Erica hugs him, the gigantic goober. "I'm just happy you're here. Relax and flirt with the bartender." She rubs his cheek. "I have it on good authority he likes scruff."
Derek ducks his head shyly, and she pecks him on the cheek and heads onto the dance floor.
In seconds, Erica is just part of the crowd, swaying to the relentless beat. She loves this, loves how alive it makes her feel, and for almost a second, she can forget that she completely lost the opportunity to make a date with Allison.
She grimaces at the reminder, and starts scouting the crowd. Who knows, maybe she can find someone here who will be willing to take her mind off it.
"Erica!"
She only just hears her name over the noise and turns to see Cora fighting her way through the crowd, body angled sideways like she's pulling someone with her. Probably Lydia.
Erica grins and dances her way over to meet them. "You made it!"
"Of course I did, silly." Cora hugs her briefly. "Like I would leave you alone in your time of need."
Cora is awesome like that. It's a trait she and Derek share, and it's why Erica's such good friends with both of them.
"And Lydia even brought along a friend to help cheer you up," Cora says.
She pulls Lydia into view, and Erica steps up to hug her when she sees who Lydia's dragging behind her. It's like being slapped. "Allison?"
Allison's dark eyes are wide and luminous in the light of the club. "Erica?"
Lydia's gaze goes calculating. "Oh my God."
"What?" Cora looks between them. "What's...wait, Allison is Hot French Girl?"
Erica wants to melt into a puddle, and she takes back everything she's ever said about Cora being her best friend.
"Then that means you're Sexy Secretary?" Cora continues, oblivious to Erica's distress.
Which...what? "I’m Sexy Secretary?" Erica says.
"I'm Hot French Girl?" Allison sounds a little dazed.
"Oh, look, I see Derek at the bar." Lydia grabs Cora's hand. "Come on, dear, let's go get drinks."
"But—" is all Cora gets out before Lydia physically drags her away.
Erica's cheeks are terrifyingly hot, and she's never been so grateful for the darkness and strobe lights in the club. She still hasn't quite recovered from her surprise, and from the look of it, neither has Allison.
"Sexy Secretary?" Erica repeats again.
Allison's mouth claps shut and she looks away. "Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not!" Erica says quickly, and steps forward, closing the distance between her and Allison. "I was trying to get your number today."
Allison looks back at her, pretty pink lips parted in a tiny o. "You were?"
It's intoxicating being this close to Allison, with the club music thrumming in the air and without the bulk of Erica's desk separating them. Erica nods. "Before Derek came out for your meeting. I was going to ask."
"Oh." Allison's eyes flick down from Erica's, then back up, this time with a sly look to them. "So, Hot French Girl?"
"You spoke French to Derek at your first meeting." There's less than an inch separating them now, and Erica feels giddy with it. "I liked it."
"Did you now?" Allison smirks, and it's the hottest thing Erica's ever seen. "So, want to dance with me, Sexy Secretary?"
Erica leans in, puts her mouth close to Allison's ear. "Only if I can get your number later."
Allison laughs, and it's gorgeous. "Oh, I think it's safe to say you can get a little more than that."
(They both get a little more than that. Cora's happy for them. Lydia is just irritated she didn't put it together sooner.)