*An AU in which April is a corrupt government leader's advisor, and Ann is a CIA agent (not a real-life one, more like the ones in movies)*
A.N./ I watched the same two Janet Snakehole clips on youtube about forty times to get April's dialogue right, so just know that I care about you people./A.N.
Ann Perkins, a dignified CIA agent, stood just inside a room fit for the tyrannical anarchist she was trying to meet with. It was dark with red leather accents, and everything was made of mahogany. Bottles of very old whiskey lined the walls. There was a gold-colored telescope, too many old-timey globes, a map made a long time ago mounted on the wall, and a huge, dark-wood desk at which an infuriating young woman sat, barring Ann from meeting with the man she came to meet with.
"Ann Parkinsons?" the sultry gatekeeper, who inexplicably managed to make bangs work for her, grumbled. Ann pursed her lips and nodded because why did she think this assignment was going to go any differently.
"Perkins, actually, but it doesn't matter because I'm not here to see Duke Silver's advisor. I'm here to see him. So if you would tell me where he is-"
"Duke Silver isn't available right now. He's away."
"Away where?"
"I don't know, the woods somewhere. He's more of a symbolic leader of the people. I do most of the work around here."
Ann fumed just a little bit but kept a hold of her composure, like she was trained to do at all costs.
"Ok, well according to this list of demands," she pulled a wrinkled piece of parchment out of her pocket and unfolded it, "that he sent to the United States president via falcon," Ann paused to shoot a skeptical look at the girl, "I'm supposed to be here at this exact time on this exact day to deliver the requested items to him, so why the hell is Silver out in the woods?"
April, the advisor, allowed herself a tiny, smug grin and put her feet up on her desk.
"Oh, you're here about the demands," she said and it was vague what she meant by the statement. Ann narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Is that a question? That's what I just said. I'm here about Duke Silver's demands-"
"Those aren't Silver's demands. They're my demands."
Ann, again, looked skeptical. She referred to the list.
"So you're saying that you requested 'fingernail ice-cream, any flavor,' from the US government?"
April shrugged.
"So?"
Ann fumed some more.
"So I'm not getting paid enough for this. I brought a tub of mostly melted vanilla ice cream and a baggie of fingernail clippings because Mr. Obama doesn't have time to interpret your insane-person gibberish, and neither do I. Also, I brought a baggie of dog hair and a personal pie from McDonalds for the," Ann checked the list again, "'dog hair pie, any flavor.' Seriously?"
April shrugged some more.
"What about number four? Did you get that?"
Ann didn't have to check the list for that one. She'd read it probably fifty times hoping it'd change if she wanted it to bad enough. Unlike every children's film she'd ever watched, her relatively ambitious dream did not come true. Disney was a fucking liar. Depending on whether or not you indulge in conspiracy theories, you might even say Disney *is* a fucking liar.
"Item four, a 'tall, thin brunette with a nice smile and a friendly demeanor to seduce me for secrets,' yep. Here I am."
"Ok well tell them I sent you back and I want a refund. Your friendly demeanor is faulty and your smile is too slutty."
Red-hot rage boiled in Ann's usually very tolerant brain, but instead of entertaining the desire to lunge across the room and choke the young tyrannical advisor, she smiled and threw her hands out to indicate that she didn't give a shit.
"I'm thirty-four and I came here to seduce a nineteen year old girl for secrets; an element of sluttiness is unavoidable. Your prank is over now, April. It was hilarious. Please tell me I can leave the stuff and go-"
April interrupted because Ann was using this fake-happy/tired voice that was like sound-gravel.
"No way, I requested a seductress. Since you're the best the CIA could do I guess I'll have to settle for a sub-par Hooters waitress, but if you want my secrets you'd better start seducting."
"Seriously?"
"Do I look like I'm joking, Ann?"
Admittedly, she didn't, but with a sense of humor as dry as April's you could never be completely sure. After an uncomfortable stare-off, April won and Ann groaned.
"Alright, get over here. One lap dance, April, that's it. Do you understand me?"
Again April's face contorted just for a second into an amused, closed-mouth grin as she got up and pulled her chair so that it was just a foot away from Ann. The girl sat down and raised her eyebrows as if to say "your move, lady." Ann groaned, louder this time and straddled April's lap. April looked fake-offended.
"You're gonna do this wearing that? Ann you prude," the girl protested, slipping into an accent toward the end. Ann's expression displayed her disbelief for April, as much as she tried to maintain a poker face.
"I'm wearing a leather cat suit, April" Ann breathed, and there was a pleading for mercy in her voice. April wasn't the merciful type. She leaned close to Ann's face, produced a comically old fashioned cigarette holder, took a drag from said cigarette, and stuck out her bottom lip.
"That's Janet Snakehole to you, sweetcheeks, and you'll never get my secrets dressed in something so modest," the girl announced in a heavier accent, and even though she seemed confident, Ann noticed her free hand gripping the side of her chair so hard her knuckles were white. For some reason, April was scared, and that little piece of golden information gave Ann the courage to proceed. She narrowed her eyes and unzipped the top of her suit down to her navel.
"One lap dance," the woman reiterated, sterner than before. April raised a brow, and in that moment it became a competition to see which of them would give up first, which was probably not for the best. In fact it was probably what sent the shit flying toward the fan, and we all know how that ends up.
April reached back and hit shuffle on her ipod and something by Lana Del Rey started playing.
"You listen to Lana Del Rey?" Ann grunted. April made a snooty face at her, still in character.
"Never you mind what I listen to, Candydragon, you just do your dance. Make me forget my responsibilities."
Ann rolled her eyes and got to dancing. She threw her legs around April's back and put her hands on the girl's shoulders. With her solid C-sized chest level with Miss. Snakehole's face, Ann moved her body to the smooth sound of Lana Del Rey's voice as best she could. Honestly it was embarrassing how bad at being sensuous she was. Mostly the woman balanced herself above April and shook her shoulders. A few times, she slipped and rammed herself against the girl. At one point she actually had to stop herself from laughing as she bent over in front of April with her ass in the air and just sort of shook like she was a ragdoll stretching after yoga.
As Ann writhed and ground on the thinner, frailer body beneath her, she had to admit she was a little glad it wasn't Duke Silver instead. With some powerful man, the act would've felt defiling, degrading, or some other derogatory d-word, but with a girl, a girl who was younger than her and who clearly had a sense of humor, it was just silly. She felt light instead of sick, and the way April's breathing got heavier every second wasn't not flattering, even if it was unnerving. More unnerving though was how fast Ann's own heart was beating, and long after the song was over and a new one started, she was still dancing.
April realized they'd let time get away from them first and jumped at the chance to reinforce an illusion of control.
"Boy kid, you've got more spunk than my dead husband, but that's probably because he's dead. If you want my secrets you'll have to do better than that. I'm Janet Snakehole, the wealthy widow, not some ten cent whore-"
She was forced to stop talking when Ann lunged forward and planted a deep kiss on her mouth, and then another one on her neck, to which April responded by blowing a long breath out of her nose and letting her rigid frame relax into the rich-leather chair. After just a second, Ann detached her lips from the girl's flesh and moved so that she was breathing almost directly into April's ear.
"How about that, April?" the woman breathed, breathier than expected, and pushed the vague feeling that she was being a complete pedophile out of her mind. This is what being a government agent was about, seducing girls who aren't old enough to drink for secrets they might not even have. April waved the cigarette holder around a little.
"Ann, you really know how to please a woman. I'll buy you all the secrets you want. What do you say you and me get a little place down in Mexico? I have family there, you see, and investments, lots of investments. More importantly the government will never find me there-"
Ann groaned and sat back on April's knees.
"You can drop the act, April. I know you don't have any secrets. It's fine, I'll just go-" Ann got up as she spoke, and April mimicked the action and grabbed the woman's wrist so she couldn't leave.
"Ann wait," she said in her normal, begrudging voice, "I can give you Duke Silver's real identity; that's like the only secret I have."
Ann softened and smiled at April, who let go of her wrist.
"Thanks, April, that'd be awesome-" again Ann choked to a stop, this time at a sudden pressure at the base of her neck. The woman felt the spot and pulled a colorful dart out of her flesh. With her head swimmy like it was, Ann just stared at the thing with her eyes focusing and unfocusing while April's voice, Janet's voice more accurately, echoed in her head.
"You thought you'd catch me that easily, Perkins? I'm Janet Snakehole; I've got connections, dahling. You'll never get your filthy paws on my rubies or my secrets," the words dissolved into maniacal cackling.
Ann became aware of the distinct feeling of falling, and then everything went black.
When the unfortunate agent woke up, her supervisor, Leslie Knope, was standing over her with a frown on her face.
"Perkins, I'm disappointed. What happened out there?"
Ann groaned and shrugged.
"I really really don't know, Leslie."