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Erica is walking along, minding her own business and needling Boyd about the girl he really should ask out already, when she sees it: the apartment building of her dreams. Boyd rolls his eyes when she stops dead in her tracks, swiveling to stare at it, and she slugs him in the arm.
“Boyd,” she says, “I'm tired of sleeping in your guest room and choking on the UST between you and Kira. It's time I gained some independence.”
“Independence,” Boyd repeats blandly.
“Yes,” Erica replies. She gestures, wildly, to the apartment. “Look at that beauty. I need to move in there.”
She speedwalks closer, perking up at the “Accepting New Residents” sign. That backpedals quickly, however, when she sees the minimum rent.
So, okay, there might be a slight issue with funding for the apartment of Erica's dreams. However, she finds a solution in this after she spills the situation to Lydia over drinks that night: moving in with someone.
Or, well, Lydia's exact words were “Co-habitation, post something on goddamn Craigslist or whatever” and then she downed her fifth Margarita, Erica quickly following with her tenth screwdriver (with perhaps a little more vodka than necessary at that point). So maybe it wasn't the greatest idea, given they were both more than tipsy—thank god for 24-hour Taxi services and overbearing bartenders who started serving them water when they started talking about their sex lives.
Either way, in the morning, suffering from one of her worst hangovers ever, she posts an ad on Craigslist. Barely a minute after she puts it up, Boyd walks in to turn a light on and open the blinds, and she hisses and sinks back underneath her mess of blankets.
Working at a bookstore doesn't exactly bring in great income, but hey, Erica got a raise last month. Still, though, as evident by her seeking to move in with a stranger instead of paying rent herself and posting on fucking Craigslist for it, she makes hardly enough to support herself each month.
There's a tattoo parlor across the street, and maybe Erica drools a little at the gorgeous owner who starts work at noon—two hours after Erica—and leaves at seven. Erica leaves at six, so she isn't technically supposed to know that, but she asked Malia once and Malia promised to spy on her for Erica.
(Which wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when she mentioned the pretty woman across the street who she was a bit infatuated with, but oh well now she knows her work hours. If in case, you know, she decides to go over there on lunch break and get a piercing or tattoo one day.)
Coincidentally, it's on Erica's lunch break later in the week that she gets a call regarding the Craigslist post. She's opening her bag of chips when her phone goes off on the table in the back room beside her; when she looks down it's an unknown number. She picks it up and swallows around the chip in her mouth.
“Hello?” she asks.
“Hi,” a feminine, unfamiliar voice on the other end drawls. “I'm calling about your post about the apartment?”
“Oh!” Erica pauses and pushes her lunch aside. “Yeah, okay, uh—”
“Braeden. B-R-A-E-D-E-N.”
“Braeden.” She grabs a slip of paper and a pen from one of the boxes littering the shelves, scribbling the name out. “And your number is—”
Braeden rattles that off, too, sounding like she's mostly humoring Erica. After that, she says, “I'm living with my ex-boyfriend now, so… I'd actually been looking at the same apartment building as you, and I figured it couldn't hurt anything.”
“And you're not a serial killer or anything?” Erica asks.
Braeden snorts. “No.”
“Just checking.”
“I get it,” Braeden cuts in. “If you could wait to interrogate me in person, though, that would be great. I'll meet you at, ah, one tomorrow? I have work off, there's a cafe right by my current apartment.”
“Yeah, sure,” Erica agrees. She doesn't have work, either, and if she does, well… she'll either skip it, pissing her boss off and probably resulting in her being fired, or she'll ask for a sick day, which maybe will piss him off but not as much and will most likely not end in her getting fired.
“Thanks,” Braeden says after a brief silence. Erica is about to protest, saying she should be thanking her, but then she gets a dial tone in her ear, and huffs, setting her phone down.
Erica really doesn't have work, and so she finds herself dressing up (not too much, she doesn't necessarily care what Braeden—or anyone else—thinks of her and she doesn't feel like wearing makeup today anyways) and heading off to the cafe. It's then, in the doorway, that she realizes she doesn't know where it is, so she texts Braeden asking for the address; Braeden replies in under three minutes, and then Erica yells out a “Bye!” to Boyd and hurries out.
Braeden isn't… exactly what she'd expected.
For one, she's the hot tattoo artist, and that makes Erica stop in her tracks when she sees her. There's really no one else in the room, and Braeden's reply, she sees, also notes that she'd be sitting in the corner booth drinking a hazelnut latte. That corner booth is the only one occupied.
“Hi,” she says hesitantly, sitting down across from her. “Braeden?”
“You're Erica?” Braeden guesses, smiling thinly. She has a septum piercing, and one in her tongue, as well as a few dashed around her ears. Erica might be drooling, but just a little bit. “Here, want anything to drink?”
“Oh, no, I just had breakfast,” Erica says, waving her hands. “And even so, I wouldn't—I'd pay for it, you don't have to.”
Braeden shrugs, settling back into her seat. “Suit yourself,” she says.
They sit in weird silence for a few more moments, before Erica clears her throat and offers, “So, about the apartment…”
“I work at a tattoo parlor,” Braeden says. Erica just barely bites back a I know. “So, I make decent money doing that. And you work at a bookstore.”
“I—”
Braeden gives her a flat look. “You work across the street from me, did you really think I wouldn't notice you?”
Erica flutters her eyelashes and leans halfway across the counter, maybe leering a little and definitely pushing her boobs out a bit. “I'm flattered,” she deadpans, before snickering and scooting back. “No, joking. I thought I put that in the description.”
“You did.” Braeden shrugs. “I just recognized the bookstore. And you.”
“Oh,” Erica says. She scratches the back of her neck, not blushing but probably fairly close to it. “Well. Thanks?”
Braeden shrugs again. “So we wouldn't be at each other's throats, glad we've cleared that up,” she says. “I still feel like we should learn a bit about each other before we actually, you know, move in together.”
“Okay,” Erica replies. She drums her nails across the surface of the table, considering. “I'm going to go get some hot chocolate, then I'll tell you my entire life story.”
She doesn't wait for a response, flashes her teeth at the barista and probably scares him (good, she likes it that way), then returns to the table with a mug of hot chocolate. Braeden is looking a little impressed.
“Tell me about your ex,” Erica says.
Braeden smiles, a little bitterly. “We started dating a couple years ago, grew to the point where we moved in together and were pretty much in the honeymoon stage.” She rubs the side of her neck. “There isn't anything there now, of course, and we realized that a few months ago but neither of us make enough money to really make it on our own, so we stayed in the same apartment and. Well.”
“That's… yikes,” Erica responds, cringing. “I live with my childhood best friend, I've been living in his guest room for—a while. It hasn't really been his guest room for over a year. Uh, I dated this guy in the last year of high school, we moved in together after we graduated but it was really short-lived and I moved in with my grandmother, but she died a little while ago, so I moved in with Boyd and—we dated once, before I started dating Stiles, but it isn't that awkward given that we don't have any romantic feelings for each other at all.”
“Neither of us have very good luck with relationships, apparently,” Braeden says, raising an eyebrow. She laughs, suddenly, snorting into her palm. “God, we're failing the Bechdel test and I hate myself.”
Erica shrugs. “Oh well, we should get better at that after a bit of living together.” She looks to her lap, where her fingers are twisting together, hot chocolate steaming and barely touched on the tabletop. “If you still want to move in with me, that is.”
Braeden grins. “Sure. If we put enough money together, and if I steal some from Derek, I'm sure we can pay the main price then we should make enough to cover the rent.” She scratches the side of her neck. “We can go down in a couple days, if that's okay?”
“I think I can swindle my boss into giving me a day off tomorrow,” Erica says. She pauses for a moment to reflect on the fact that her boss's name is Derek, too, but she assumes that's just a coincidence. “What about you?”
“I get Mondays off, too.”
“Great.”
The owner seems to assume that they're a couple. Braeden doesn't deny it, but Erica assumes she's just preoccupied with the paperwork, so she cuts in, “Oh, we're not dating, we're just friends”. The woman still seems skeptical, and arches her eyebrow at Erica's fingers spread across the small of Braeden's back.
After they pass over the money and finish the paperwork, the woman smiles and informs them that the apartment is all theirs.
Outside, Braeden twists her fingers in the scarf she's wearing; her cheeks are tinted a shade darker from the cold. “Thank you,” she says, shifting from side to side. “I'll call up a U-Haul, get my stuff moved in sometime within the week.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” Erica points out, grinning. “And I'm free for today, so I'm going to move all my things myself.” Braeden frowns at that. “Oh, don't worry, I go to the gym at least one night a week. And I don't have that much, anyways.”
Braeden raps the side of her pickup. “I can help, if you want.”
“That… would be nice,” Erica admits.
“Jesus, how heavy is your bed,” Braeden complains as they lift it together on their shoulders. “I think I might have broken something.”
“I should've gotten Boyd to help,” Erica whines in response. Braeden snorts—she'd brought Erica back to her and Boyd's place, and even shaken his hand. But then, of course, Kira had been in the kitchen. “God, why didn't I try cockblocking him? I'm too nice for him, I swear.”
Braeden sniffs. “I'm sure,” she teases, then groans again as the bed teeters to one side.
“Should have taken the elevator,” Erica snaps as she brings them up onto another flight of stairs.
“It wouldn't fit.”
“That's what she said,” Erica sing-songs.
“Oh god, shut up.”
Erica bites her cheek, hovering just outside their—their!—new apartment. Braeden's lips are turned up into a wide smile, one that's been on her face since they got the bed settled in and moved back down to get everything else.
“I feel like I should help you move in, too,” she says.
Braeden laughs. “Okay, I called while you were saying your teary goodbyes and I'm moving everything over Wednesday night.”
“Deal,” Erica says. She collapses midway down the doorway, groaning and dragging her fingers through her hair. “But right now I really need to sleep, or go for a jog, or… something that isn't any work.”
“Same here, but I made plans to meet an old friend,” Braeden agrees. “If you don't mind, I can sleep on the couch until I get a bed.”
“Or you can sleep in my bed,” Erica offers before she has a chance to stop herself, complete with an overdramatic flicker of her eyelashes and suggestive look. Braeden laughs.
“I might take you up on that,” she says, before she heads out, and Erica is left staring blankly after her.
Erica ends up going back to Boyd's after this, instead of immediately falling into bed and going to sleep. Kira hands her a plant when she walks in, and she blinks at it, frowning.
“I'm here to see Boyd,” she says. “And what is this?”
“I accidentally bought too many,” Kira explains. She picks at her hair. “So, I figured you could start a garden or something in your new apartment.”
“Thanks,” Erica says cautiously.
Kira steps to one side. “Boyd's in the living room,” she says, face going slightly pink. “And I really need to get going now.”
“See you sometime, I guess,” Erica tells her. Kira nods shortly, before she grabs her bag and coat off the rack and the door swings shut behind her.
Boyd is sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of tea. Erica wrinkles her nose at that, because Boyd and tea? Really? The entire place smells of jasmine… like Kira. Oh, god, she made him tea and he's still convinced they're in an endless spiral of unrequited love on his side.
“Boyd, I need your help,” Erica groans, flopping down beside him. He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but you know my new roommate? I can't tell if she's flirting or not and oh my god she's so pretty and nice and—”
Boyd lifts a hand. “Stop,” he cuts in, and Erica falls silent. “Erica, she probably likes you. Who wouldn't?”
Erica makes a strangled noise. Boyd pats her on the shoulder.
“Just tell her, Erica.”
“Okay,” Erica agrees, “but only if you tell Kira how you feel.”
Boyd sighs. “Alright,” he says in a long-suffering tone, but he's smiling anyways.
“So, I met Derek's boyfriend,” Braeden tells her the next day, sitting on the couch in a nightshirt and shorts. Her hands are folded at her waist, and she's smiling slightly. “His name is Scott and he's like actual sunshine.”
Erica goes to sit by her, glad she'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants before she stepped out. “That's kind of how Kira is. I swear, she's so nice I don't think anyone could ever dislike her.”
Braeden laughs. “Oh, yeah, I was totally prepared to hate Scott when I walked in to see him and Derek making out on the couch, but once we got to talking, it was really hard. He's so nice.” She pauses, rolling her chin on the edge of her knuckles. “Maybe we should introduce them.”
“Oh, god, no,” Erica interrupts, mocking a groan. “They'd probably try to out-nice each other if he's as sweet as Kira is.” She grins, though, and then is a little caught by the way Braeden's smiling at her. “Okay, so… moving on, are—you into girls?”
“If you're asking if I'll go out with you, yeah,” Braeden says, waving a hand. Her grin sharpens at how Erica splutters, entire face heating up. “What, I'm good at reading signs and you've been putting them all off. Plus, you're cute and I like you.”
“I like you, too,” Erica chokes out. She's aware she was being obvious, but wow. “So, coffee?”
“That would be great,” Braeden agrees with a grin.
They go out later in the week, a night after both their shifts have ended—so a little late for coffee, but not too late for dinner. Braeden, beforehand, helps Erica settle the plant she'd gotten from Kira in the kitchen, where it sits on the windowsill.
Erica kisses Braeden and waves, heading back into her own bedroom, before Braeden reels her back in.
They're late for work the next day, and Boyd assures Erica over a phone call that he and Kira are now dating.