A/N: Having a little fun with the anonymous request that made ch.36 happen, if fun is really the word you'd use. This is kind of a sequel to that one, taking place immediately afterwards. Anyways, remember that you can send prompts in as well to help this madness along, if you want, to my tumblr.

Title is the lyric immediately following the one from the same song as 36, because why not?

Or maybe it's because, in the morning, she's cold lying on that futon in the living room, exposed to the room despite the wealth of blankets heaped on her. Not because Andy's clearly moved from where he was the night before – somehow she ends up sleeping in more than he does half the time – or that she remembers everything she had thought that night before. It still feels right, somehow, despite what anything Andy could say and part of her wonders what would actually change if she left.

So she did.

Slipping out of the house wasn't that difficult, especially considering she had driven herself there in the first place. Driving back home, on the other hand, took a concerted effort – her hands clutching the steering wheel like it was the only thing she had in the world, and even at one point telling herself that she should just go back to Andy. But something was telling her otherwise, like she couldn't really believe everything that had happened and that she'd finally see them for what they were – lies she'd constructed. Then she remembers the way he answered her the previous night, how quickly and ardently he expressed it, and she hates what she's done already. Part of her hoped that she could stop thinking about it when she slumped into her own bed, but then it didn't really go away and she starts thinking what Andy's reaction when he figures out that she's gone will be.

And she hates herself for it. She purposefully ignores his calls and texts because how can she explain any of this to him, and she regrets it. Hate changes shape, and the only thing April can do is call it loathing. A familiar thing, loathing, and it hurts her to admit how welcome it feels but she can't ignore it either.

The next day at work, she can ignore Andy. She makes sure to go in a little earlier than usual, almost on time even, but he's still there. Somehow, at this hour, he's there polishing his own shoe. He's shining a sneaker, but she's not going to tell him how stupid that looks because she just wants to get out from there.

"Oh, hey!" he shouts from the seat when she's nearly taken the corner just ahead. "Hey, April!"

She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket and tries to make it clear she's ignoring him. Why, or to what end, she doesn't really know anymore. But he seems to get the idea, and she's left alone for the rest of the walk.

She's pretty successful after that, she thinks. He's missing from the stand when she heads out for lunch, thankfully (she thinks for a moment why she says thankfully to herself, comes up short, and leaves that thought alone). At the same time she heads back to the Parks department and finds a pile of little paper tulips on her desk. Some of them are clearly hand-folded, judging by the horrible little petals jutting out in absurd directions, but she picks one up and finds herself staring into it. There's at least a dozen of them there, and she knows who did it instantly, but all April can do is twist one in her hand and smile, not realizing until the muscles in her face move that she's trying her damndest not to cry. It's so stupid, and she's completely above ever crying, but she still can't help it.

"You okay?" a voice asks from behind her, and Leslie's standing with her shoulder against the threshold of her office.

April doesn't turn around, hands still sifting through the paper flowers. Among them was a little piece of paper with a handwritten note on it. A lot of the words are misspelled and the handwriting's got no straight flow to it, some of the writing shooting upward as words finished only to come back to where Andy thought the base of the letters should be but couldn't stick to. Wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jacket, she knows she's smiling like an idiot at the little message but she can't help it.

We can talk if you want, if not that's okay. Here's a bunch of flowers. The real ones were too expensive (sorry) so I made a bunch of these from the post-its on your desk.

It was true, her stash of post-it notes was totally gone. Turning around, April stood there playing with the pink one that she'd grabbed while she sat against her desk and looked Leslie in the eye. Hopefully it wasn't as clear to the older woman that she's crying, but April knows how perceptive she can be so that's basically thrown out the window immediately.

"You wanna talk about it?" Leslie walks forward and picks up the little note and chuckles softly. "Come on."

April makes a sound like she doesn't want to, but Leslie still grabs her arm and pulls her into the office. A few seconds they sit there, April continuing that low rumbling noise and Leslie sitting there uncomfortably, until April starts to leave and the other woman gives her a look. It's never stopped her before, but something keeps her there this time.

"So, why are there a bunch of badly folded paper flowers on your desk?" she asks up front.

"Because Andy's stupid," April retorts. "And he thinks it's romantic or something to make me have to clean that all up."

It doesn't really seem to matter that, despite everything she's just said, April's still holding onto that little flower. Every once and a while, between exchanges like that or when neither of them are saying anything, April looks down at the thing and smiles again. It's enough to make her sick just how much she's been smiling at this stupid little thing, but then again it made her think of Andy and thinking of Andy sent chills along her body and made her want to keep smiling.

"Sure," Leslie nods, like April was making any sense at all.

"Why do you care, anyways?"

It's a potent question, and it could mean a lot for how this conversation goes, but April's sincerely caught off guard by Leslie's sudden investment in this situation.

"What, I'm not allowed to care about my friends' relationship now?" she shrugs, and April likes the way that the word 'friends' rolls around in the air.

"I thought Ann was your friend?" April asks, clutching the tulip a little harder when she said her name. "Y'know, Ann – the beast in the pit."

"For the last time April, she doesn't live in the pit," Leslie closes her eyes and shakes her head before continuing.

"Semantics," April returns.

"Anyways, just because I'm your boss doesn't mean I can't also be your friend," the other woman starts, "and I thought that we were. Friends, I mean, because I consider you my friend."

"You say friend a lot," April mutters, but she does let a smirk escape and Leslie gives her a wide grin in response.

"Hey," another voice interrupts them, and she's there.

April's face falls immediately. It doesn't take much, especially when it comes to Ann, for that to happen. The moment's lost in that one second.

"Oh, Ann," Leslie shakes her head and glances at April quickly before turning back to her friend. "I definitely did not forget about today, so just wait outside for a second please."

Ann smiles at them and walks away, not bothering to say anything to April. It's good too, because April's too busy sneering at her as the nurse leaves Leslie's office. Without realizing it, her hands had balled up, and when she looks down to the flower again it's all crinkled and ruined from the squeeze. It actually makes her laugh, how silly the thing looks with one petal jutting out the wrong way while the rest of the body sat crushed in on one side, but then she suddenly gets mad at Ann for ruining it. This was obviously her fault, and April can't help thinking it. Leslie takes one look at April, the shrunken flower, and back out to Ann.

"Oh," she nods.

Leslie looks like she just figured out the missing piece to make the puzzle make some sort of sense.

"Oh," April mimics, fully smashing the flower between her hands until it was completely flat.

"April, look at your desk," Leslie points out through the office.

"Looking," she answers, watching one of the bundles of paper roll around on her desk. "I just see a bunch of dumb flowers."

"Yeah, that's all I see," Leslie stands up and presses her shirt down by the hem at her waist. "What do you see?"

She pats April on the shoulder awkwardly, and for a second April looks at her with a confused look but Leslie doesn't give her much to go off of other than those few words.

So April sits there, staring at the mess on her desk from inside the office, wondering what Andy was thinking of all of this. She could only guess how confused he was, or maybe even a little disappointed, but April still doesn't know how to handle the situation no matter how clear Andy's feelings were looking at his art project strewn across her workspace.

Opening up her hand, April looks at the little flower she's crushed before standing up to toss the thing out. There was nothing saving that one, so she was going to have to deal with only having ten or so of the other ones. Just as she walks out, letting the flattened paper fall into the trashcan by her desk, she notices someone else in the department.

Of course – what incredible fucking timing, she thinks – it's Andy standing in front of the permits counter and he watches her crumple up the remaining vestige of the paper. He scratches back of his head, and then he makes a weird noise that sounds like it was supposed to be masquerading as a laugh, before he walks out without saying a word to her. April looks down in the bin to see the lonely little flower, and she finds herself walking quickly out to try and find him. Luckily, he's just sitting on one of the benches outside of the department looking down at the floor. Sitting down next to him, April takes a second to figure out how to explain that.

"That was… sweet," she finally gets out, and the word stings on her tongue when it's used this positively. "I mean, I liked them."

Andy's head perks up and he looks at her. April responds by nodding her head and he smiles, leaning back on the bench like something was just removed from his shoulders.

"Do you wanna talk? I mean, because I wrote that. On the little-"

"Note, yeah," April nods and her face starts to feel warmer than usual, and she doesn't know what to do with her hands now that they feel suddenly cold and alone without his. "Sorry about yesterday. This kinda isn't fair to you, or something."

"It's fine. I mean, I'm okay with it. Or… no, I'm just sorta okay with it – but, like, only if you're okay." he answers, but he's doing that weird staring thing he does sometimes and she can't take her eyes off his. "You okay?"

She really considers that question when he asks it. All April's known about Andy up to this point is that he's awesome – whether that meant he was way funnier than anyone in the building, or that he was willing to accompany her on some of the more stupid pranks, or that he was sitting there looking at her like he was worried – but this is sort of different. So she answers truthfully.

"Not really."

They sit on that bench for a little while, the two of them so close but still apart, and then a little while changes to an hour. Andy's arm finds its way along her back, and somehow that feels a little better. Then an hour slips slowly into several hours, and April's head has been on his against his chest for so long that she's grown way too accustomed to the smell of him. People walk by, some of them just staring at the two of them and a few of them asking why neither of them are doing anything, but neither of them can really seem to work up the effort to care.

No words are really said between them, and April's okay with that. It should be uncomfortable, being stuck in the same position on the hard bench seats, but it doesn't stop either of them. As hours melt away into way too long, and it's getting cold and quiet in there because no one's actually still in City Hall, April finally stands up.

"Come on," she tugs on his hand, pulling him up with her. "Let's go, this place sucks."

Before she leaves April digs into her jacket pocket and pulls out one of the small paper flowers that she'd taken from her desk. She looks at it, then to Andy, and gives him a brief smirk before putting it back in her pocket. They leave through one of the emergency exits, and the whole way to Andy's house – and then for a few more hours, staying awake in bed afterwards – he doesn't let go of her hand.