Drunk Ann is the worst Ann. Sober Ann never really shuts up and sometimes even now, when there's no one else around, she'll try chatting with April about whatever it is Ann talks about, she really doesn't know, but the last time it happened it only took three seconds of April glowering at her to make her give up. April timed it.

It doesn't work on drunk Ann because drunk Ann just doesn't care. She says things like, "I know you have to keep up your I'm-April-and-I-hate-everyone act but I know it's an act, okay," and then she just keeps going. She even gets up and follows April when she goes to the bathroom to hide and even tries to walk into the stall with her because she's so stupid when she's drunk and when she stands at the door to April's stall and keeps talking, April decides she hates the Snakehole and she hates alcohol and she hates Leslie for making her celebrate anything with them ever. Okay, she doesn't hate Leslie because Leslie is cool except for this thing where she's always telling Ann that she's a beautiful sparkly unicorn fart or whatever she says.

Some guy has dumped Ann. Probably because he's a normal human being and realized he didn't want to make out with Ann the sparkly unicorn fart for the rest of his life.

April stalks to the bar and screams at the bartender over the music and club noise to give her Snake Juice before she sets herself on fire, and it's gone seconds after it appears in front of her. She orders another one and takes it to one of the couches in the corner. Ann is still following her and still talking.

She tries not to actually listen when Ann says, "Maybe I should try girls, you know," but no matter who she's talking to she is immediately interested whenever someone thinks about going gay. Then Ann makes that face she gets when she's said something stupid, even for her.

"How long have you known you were a lesbian?" April says, and an idea clicks into her brain, popping like ice cubes under running water.

"I'm not - I didn't say I was -" Ann blurts out, making those little huffy noises that people make when they really want you to believe what they're saying. She doesn't finish her sentence, just sips from her drink again.

"It makes sense though. You know a lot of lesbians like self-sabotage all their relationships with men because they don't really want to be with them."

"Self-sabotage?"

"Yeah, like you screw stuff up on purpose and you don't even realize you're doing it."

"Yeah, I know what it is, okay? I'm not gay." Ann sounds upset and nervous. She tries to stand up to leave, probably to go tell Leslie how much she loves her for the eight hundredth time today because that's totally what a not-lesbian would do, but she stumbles and falls back onto the couch so April has to act fast, has to push harder.

"Don't go," she says. "I know it's hard to come out here. Pawnee. This place sucks."

"Oh my god, you're actually being nice to me over something that's not even real."

April sighs. "I know I'm like, really mean to you all the time. I mean it is kind of an act." She adds, "Like you said," because Ann loves being right.

"Why do you do that?" Ann asks, kind of quiet. Quiet for the Snakehole, anyway, which means that she's not quite screaming into April's ear.

"I don't know," April says. "I just do. I guess at first I was like, going through some stuff." Like you kissing Andy, she thinks, and she's still so bitter about it. "I didn't realize you were going through some stuff too."

"You could have talked to me about it."

"So you are a lesbian?" April says after a second.

"God, April! No," Ann replies. "I meant you could have talked to me about the other stuff."

April bites her lip. "Not really."

"Why not?"

April rolls her eyes, dramatically. "'Cause it was about you, okay?"

Ann freezes, her drink hanging halfway to her lips, one of those dumb looks on her face. "What do you mean?" she asks, and April could splash the drink in her face, how is she missing this, the I-act-like-I-hate-you-because-I-really-like-you thing?

It's time to get serious. April leans in but Ann holds her hand up, saying, "Whoa. Whoa. April."

"What?" She can't stop herself from sounding annoyed. Mostly with Ann but with herself, too, because it's game over before she really even got started. She wasted all this time talking to Ann. She could have been doing something way more fun like drinking out of the toilets.

"You're married," she says. "To Andy?" Like April would ever, ever forget that. God.

"Yeah, and you just got dumped. So what?" She lets it hang in the air for a second just to let it sting, let the loneliness really sink in like venom. Ann actually goes a little pale, her mouth twisting down all sad like she's never ever going to find a new guy in like two days.

The second time April leans in, Ann doesn't stop her.

It's actually kind of nice. The taste of all those girly drinks Ann's been slamming back all night is on her parted lips, and god, drunk kissing is great. Ann tries to set her drink on the table next to the couch but ends up spilling it on the floor, the sound of breaking glass lost in the thump of the music and the laughter and screaming all around them. It takes like forever for Ann to actually move her lips, catching April's bottom lip between her teeth, gently and when Ann stops talking April guesses she isn't so terrible. She pushes her tongue past Ann's lips, and she feels Ann make this small noise but she can't hear it, swallowed up by lame music, and pushes back. Her hands frame April's face, fingers curling slightly around the nape of her neck, at the base of her skull, getting tangled in her hair and who knew stupid drunk Ann would actually be kind of a good kisser?

April pulls away and Ann gets that dumb look on her face again until April takes her hand and leads her to the door at the back of the club. She wonders if anyone from work has seen them. She knows Andy hasn't because he'd be hovering over them in a second, that wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on his face like he's just seen that football guy, like, flying by on an angel Li'l Sebastian.

Ann opens her mouth and starts to complain about the cold but April kisses her again, snaking her arms under Ann's unbuttoned cardigan, pulling her close, pressing their bodies together. Ann is making all these little sounds now, she sounds so needy which is probably why that guy dumped her since making out with her isn't so bad.

April doesn't let her go until Ann feels her phone buzz in her pocket. Leslie is looking for them, worried that April has finally done something horrible like lock her in a dumpster or throw her cell phone in a storm drain.

Ann goes into the bathroom before they leave. April knows she's drunk enough that she might completely forget about this, like that time she and Leslie were going around City Hall loudly trying to figure out who Ann had made out with the night before. She grabs a napkin from the bar and writes on it, I was the person you made out with last night. April. As they're all leaving, she slips it into Ann's purse.

She imagines Ann finding it in her purse tomorrow morning, making that face for the entire drive to work.