Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Apricot remembers the first time she sat in this room. 

This room which is now big and nearly empty except for the rows of desks, some chairs, and other loose office supplies littered around the space. Every piece of personal memorabilia has been stripped - no plushies or picture frames to be seen, no office plants hanging on to their last breaths, aching for proper sunlight. No papers scattered about, the reams and reams usually stacked in their cabinets all cleared out to be moved to the new office.

She remembers being interviewed in the conference room at the back of the office, palms sweating in her lap but you’d never be able to tell from the look on her face. 

From her babbling, though, maybe. But it could also be written off as just typical Apricot.

“Getting nostalgic?” Ginger struts in from the break room, kicking the fridge shut with her heel and a bottle of sweet tea in her hand.

Apricot and Ginger have been in this since Apricot was fresh out of college. Ginger was Apricot’s senior in every way you could count - age, career, and hell, does she make a mean pot of coffee. When Apricot was down, Ginger helped lift her up with no coddling or silver spoons. It was tough love, and luckily Apricot knew how to navigate it.

“How can you not?” Apricot replies, sipping on her coffee. “Is it bad I feel more nostalgic about leaving this place behind than I did leaving my college dorm?”

Ginger snorts and looks around with Apricot; you could almost miss the nostalgia on her face if you hadn’t known her for ten years already. “Not at all. University kicked your ass hard, and then you came in here and got adored by everyone. Of course you’re gonna miss it.”

Rolling her eyes, Apricot laughs and leans against one of the empty desks. “You know that’s not the reason! Though, I will kinda miss it. It’s gonna be tough being the favorite when I’m the boss.”

“Oh, please, you’ll be fine.”

“Will I though? What if the new place catches fire, or everyone falls through the floor, or I get so stressed out from the pressure that I go crazy and shave my head right before an important meeting?” 

The little pout in Apricot’s voice was half sincere, half joking. Of course she knows that being in charge means not always being liked, and making decisions in everyone’s best interests. And of course she knows that in an emergency situation, she has a good enough head on her shoulders to, well, handle it. But that never meant it wasn’t an intimidating challenge. But what she’s afraid of is becoming one of those managers who can’t see past their own tunnel - who leaves her employees in the dust in pursuit of the greater good.

They’re a team, especially now that they have their own branch. They need each other now more than ever.

Without Apricot noticing, Ginger had stepped up beside her and squeezed her elbow gently. “You’d better be fine, kid, or else you’ll be dragging me all the way out of town for nothing.”

“Ah, we couldn’t have that, could we? Poor old Ginger having to uproot her busy life and schedule to lead her own team.”

“Yes, poor me. I settled down in the city for a reason, you know.”

“Don’t worry, Ginger, I’m sure the commute’s not so long that it’ll interfere with your evening nap.”

Ginger thwacks Apricot over the shoulder for that one and Apricot’s only left with the sound of her own laughter.

In a few days, this place which she knew like a second home will no longer be filled with her memories. She’ll be making new ones. Even if she might end up in this building once in a while to meet with the main owners on the third floor, it won’t be the same.

And today, she thinks she’s going to be pretty okay with that.

Chapter Text

If there are two things Bree knows in life to be true, they are that:

1. Nobody gets through life without having at least one breakdown of some sort.
2. Life is so utterly, completely unreal.

Now, the second can be interpreted in a couple different ways, which works out in her favor whenever she’s contemplating whatever unfortunate scenario is brewing inside of her mind.

Currently, the interpretation she’s going with is “nothing really matters because we’re all going to die anyway.”

The scenario is that she told Apricot she didn’t want a desk that could be turned into a standing desk, but now she’s wondering if she shouldn’t have said that she did want it because maybe it’d be better for her in the long run.

And then she had been asked if she wanted that footrest under her chair, which she thought was kind of silly and offensive at first, but then she realized the way her feet meet the floor actually is kind of uncomfortable and maybe it would be better if there was a little lifted angle to it, but she already said no, and it’s not like she can just walk back in like “Hey, boss, I know I said no to all those really helpful ergonomic thingies you offered to me, and you probably gave them to someone else already, but can I have them actually?”

Because that was be.. spoiled, right? That would be spoiled. And Apricot has no time for Bree to be spoiled right now, because they’re in the middle of settling into a new office, and they had that whole lecture from the ergonomics lady who Bree kind of paid attention to until she remembered the show she was watching last night and how it had left on such an awful cliffhanger, I mean, really--

Crap. Okay. Breathe.

This didn’t have to be difficult. She could probably just go into storage later and get the footrest herself.. and adjusting to a standing desk seems like a lot of work and potentially a lot of attention, both of which Bree isn’t really looking to have. I mean, who wants to be the one girl who stands up in the middle of the work day, fiddles with the screws on her desk, and then just.. stands there. And works. And then people will probably talk to her about it.

Okay, she was getting somewhere now. Plus, who cares about standing and posture and all that! (Though the same could be said for paying attention to what other people notice about you.) She could just adjust her posture while sitting every once in a while, no problem. Yeah.. She doesn’t need a standing desk. That was a good call. Good call, gut.

“Well, you’re looking pretty happy right now, Bree. Dodged a phone call?” 

Bree looks up to find Peach, the tall, pretty, flowy-haired, legs-for-days, athletically-built-in-all-the-right-places Peach. Bree always thought that if Peach had filmed those workout videos for YouTube, Bree would never go a day without exercising. 

“Oh, um.. no, just kind of happy. Settling in and stuff,” Bree replies when she’s trying not to wonder how Peach’s hair stays so effortlessly in place.

“Yeah, your desk is super cute! I promise I won’t plant seeds in your keyboard this time.”

Bree snorts, and looks back down at her screen. “You don’t have to lie to me.. Everyone knows you’re full of it.”

Peach gasps, holding her hand to her chest. “Full of what, Bree-bee?”

“Loopholes.”

“Oh, whew. I thought you were going to say bullshit. I don’t know if I could take it, hearing you say a curse word..”

Bree raises an eyebrow and looks back up to Peach. Then lets out a very punctuated, very firm, “Fuck.”

Peach gasps again, somehow even more dramatically, and puts on a face like she’s a mother who just caught her child stealing cookies after bedtime. “No, please! Be kind to my aging heart! Apricot, Brizella is wounding me again!!”

With a huff, Bree calls after Peach, who’s wandered off to find a shoulder to cry on. “I’m two years older than you, Peach!!”

Chapter Text

“How about these fancy new phones, huh?”

Cherry’s folded arms sit on top of Peach’s secretary desk like they belong there.

It’s a little taller than the last one, but has more space for her notes and computer and the like. She’s even gotten to set out some picture frames and a special candy jar for herself (not those gross lollipops you find everywhere , and only for when she’s having a really rough day).

“Yeah, can you believe I even get a headset now?” Peach show off her office-studded earset as she mentions it and both girls giggle.

“It’s so cool! I’m so glad we got to bring you with us. I mean, if you had gotten promoted to the main office, that would’ve been cool and all, but..”

“Say no more, Cherry. I’m glad to be here, too.”

Cherry beams. “Yeah! Especially since, y’know..”

Peach starts typing away at an e-mail she forgot about when Cherry appeared but tilts her head in response. “Y’know?”

“ Y’know…. ” Cherry starts leaning over the desk, grinning deviously as Peach continues typing.

“Hmm?” 

“Peeeaaach, I--”

“What the hell are you two doing!?”

Lemon’s head just barely peeks over Peach’s desk, but her presence consumes the entire room once Cherry shrieks and jumps away. 

“L-L-Lemon!! Jesus, warn a girl next time!”

Lemon narrows her eyes, trademark hand on her hip as she stares at Cherry. “Why? So you two can continue planning whatever disaster I’ll have to clean up next?”

Peach snorts behind her hand. “Aw, don’t be like that, Lemon. You know we wouldn’t have planted that glitter bomb in Apricot’s desk if we knew she was giving a presentation that day.”

“Yeah, and she thought it was funny anyway!” Cherry still holds her hand to her chest as if trying to calm her heartbeat under Lemon’s piercing glare.

“And she looked absolutely fabulous the entire day,” Peach adds.

“And the next, when she couldn’t get the glitter out of her hair!”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

“ENOUGH!” Lemon huffs, rubbing her temples. “Just.. don’t get any funny ideas about ‘initiating’ this office space, alright? We have enough to worry about without all the cans of soda being shaken to hell and back.”

Flinging herself dramatically over the top of the desk that guards Peach from dangerous strangers, Cherry groans. “But that’s no fun! It’s just little pranks!”

“You can prank people without ruining their clothes. Or psyche.”

Peach hits the ‘send’ button on her e-mail and rests her cheek on her hand. “Honestly, Lemon, you should lighten up a bit. Have you tried yoga?”

“No.”

“It’s really good for relaxation, and keeping your body nimble.”

“Peach, I said no.”

“But--oh, hold on.” Peach taps the button on the side of her headset and switches to her award-winning customer service voice. 

While Peach takes the call, Cherry and Lemon engage in a very energetic conversation about whether or not foot massagers are an “office necessity”. The conversation gets put to a screeching halt, though, when Ginger comes stomping up to the desk.

“All right, you hooligans. Which one of you broke my computer? This baby just keeps dancing and dancing on the screen nonstop, and I can’t unlock it!”

It takes less than five seconds for Peach and Cherry to exchange a look and burst into laughter, and ten seconds for Lemon to (exasperatedly) drag Ginger back to her desk so she can fix it (again).