The Smallest Park with the Biggest Time Loop 2/4
Title: The Smallest Park with the Biggest Time Loop (or 23 Times Leslie Knope Woke Up Alone and One Time She Didn't) 2/4
Pairing: Leslie/Ben
Rating: R
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Drinking with a Mysterious Stranger at The Bulge
That second day Leslie just goes through the motions, utterly confused. She thinks maybe April is behind this elaborate prank, but that doesn't really make sense because April is out of the office most of the day with Andy and Ron, checking out college classes. If she were doing this, she'd want to see the fruits of her labor--Leslie slowly unhinge.
So she talks with Ann, once again comes to the slow realization that she is a steamroller (although she still thinks that bulldozer is a more accurate metaphor), and calls Ben and leaves him half a dozen voice mails asking him to meet with her at their park. Like that first night, they decide to end contact for good, and then heartbroken, she goes to Ann's house, finally sobbing against her best friend's shoulder.
But this time, they also watch the first two Harry Potter movies after Leslie calms down enough to pay attention to the TV.
A few days into it, she lays in bed and listens to Crazy Ira and the Douche as they once again, obnoxiously quiz Brittany, Candi, and Serena from the Glitter Factory on math problems. Leslie can't help herself--she picks up her phone, calls in, and gives them the answers to all six questions--five of which they haven't even asked the strippers yet.
When William Barnes calls her later in the day to remind her how popular Crazy Ira and the Douche are in Pawnee, and also suggests that maybe since she's a city council candidate, that she shouldn't be on the air telling them that they're sexist jerks, she sees his point, but Leslie doesn't really care. She won't do it again and even if she did, no one will remember but her.
Of course even later that day, when she's dropping some forms off on the second floor, she unexpectedly walks by Ben in the hallway and she can't help but notice that he gives her a small smile as he quickly passes by her. Okay--so maybe she will call in again.
Days later (at least for her), Leslie tells herself she's only going to ask him because he likes sci-fi stuff and maybe he'll have an idea as to what is going on. She waits until she knows that Chris is in a meeting with Mayor Gunderson and Ben is alone in the City Manager's office. Leslie walks by his door, sees that he's focused on some papers spread out on his desk and steps inside. Quickly, before Ben can look up and fix her with a look of discouragement, she takes a seat on the other side of his desk.
He raises his head and is clearly a bit surprised, but before he can say anything, she asks, "Have you noticed anything weird going on?"
Ben stares at her. "Weird? What?" And then without giving her time to clarify, he adds, "Um, no."
"Are you sure? The past few days...being very similar? Repeating somehow?"
He doesn't answer, just narrows his eyes at her like he's trying to figure out what she's doing--what she's trying to steamroll him into this time. While she sits there, she can't help but recognize his brown cardigan as the one she's worn previously, throwing it on in the middle of the night once, before sneaking off to the bathroom at his house. That seems so long ago.
"Would you tell me if you had? Noticed anything strange?" She asks before sighing.
"Leslie. Stop," he pauses, and gives her a look that's the same mix of sadness, trepidation, and exhaustion that she's gotten used to since....well, not since they'd broken up exactly, but definitely since the night she drove him to that abandoned gas station because she couldn't bear to see him talking with Shauna Malwae-Tweep.
It's the look that breaks her heart into small, scattered pieces. It's the look he gave her before using ordinary, regular, everyday scissors (instead of the correct, over-sized ceremonial ones), to cut the red ribbon he had hastily tied around the Smallest Park. Right before he and Chris had walked away together and left her standing there with the remnants of the protest and cook-out she had organized to keep her and Ben working together until at least 2070.
"I don't know what you're talking about but I can't do this anymore," he says quietly, not looking at her.
"I can't either Ben," she almost-whispers, getting up and turning to leave. But before she's through the doorway, she swings back around and grabs a handful of his newly replenished pens, pencils, and highlighters. This bunch (unlike the others that are still in her office drawer), will probably just be back here in the morning, so what does it really matter?
When she gets home later that night, Leslie sets the office supplies that she took from Ben on her kitchen table, eats three double chocolate brownies for dinner and takes an Ambien. When she wakes up in the morning, it's to a different version of the same exact damn thing.
The pens, pencils, and highlighters are gone from her kitchen table.
There's one day where she really feels like she can't take it even one more time. At 9:30 she walks over to Jerry, grabs the mug full of luke-warm coffee off his desk, and pours it all over his shirt herself, five minutes before he would have made the same mess on his own.
Then she spends all morning in her office with the door shut alternately crying and researching time loops on the internet, before giving up when April walks in around noon and hands Leslie a triple mocha with extra whipped cream. That small kindness makes her start to cry again.
April takes the coffee back. "This is just because Tom told me you dumped Jerry's coffee on his shirt this morning," she pauses. When Leslie continues to sniffle, she adds, "Stop doing that or you can't have it back."
Leslie looks at her, face still scrunching up. She's sure she looks pathetic, but she doesn't care. She holds her hand out, pleading with her watery eyes. It had extra whipped cream and she's just so exhausted. And sad. And confused.
"It's no big deal. I just found it outside by the garbage. Here, just take it. God."
The triple mocha is put back in her outstretched hand, and then younger woman leans down to give her a quick, awkward hug, before quickly walking out of Leslie's office.
A couple of hours later Leslie looks at the clock on the wall and knows Ann will be showing up in a few minutes and she just...can't. Can't be called a steamroller by her best friend or even proactively try to start the whole conversation off by telling Ann that yes, she knows that she is a steamroller. She steamrolls. She's a massive, enormous, runaway steamroller with a cement brick on the gas pedal and the rolley-thing in front of the machine and everything. She gets it.
She doesn't want to insist that Ann loves Harry Potter movies (but how could she not? They're so good!) or even give up and again ask Ann what her favorite movie is--how on earth can it possibly be Pretty Woman? And she certainly doesn't want to talk Ann into dropping everything and buying plane tickets to Paris online one more time. Because, really, although it was a fun idea, it's not like they actually got to go anywhere since the soonest flight didn't leave until the next morning.
Starting right now, she flat-out refuses to participate in this any longer, whatever-the-hell is happening to her.
So, she ducks out of City Hall at two in the afternoon, fifteen minutes before she knows Ann will stop by and drives right to The Bulge where she spends her afternoon on a barstool, talking to a nice man older man with grey hair, a large bushy mustache, and a deep, mysterious voice while throwing back whipped cream-topped, sexually-explicit-named cocktails on the house.
Leslie takes a cab home a few hours later and tipsily calls Ben and tries to get him to come by so they can...talk.
Looking back on it later that night, she's pretty sure she also mentioned how much she missed talking about certain political figures and the sex acts they were code for. Because, that's exactly what a person will do after spending three hours drinking free blow jobs and screaming orgasms in Pawnee's gay bar, instead of staying at work and reliving for the 19th time, what is quickly becoming the single worst day of her entire life.
Ben had ended up exasperatedly hanging up on her and really, Leslie can't blame him at all.
She absolutely should not have called her ex-boyfriend and still technically-boss, and told him that she thought about him while she was drinking blow jobs and that she really, really wanted to Lady Bird Johnson the hell out of him. God, she really fucked the pooch on that one (sure, she thinks the term is still a little vulgar, but sometimes making love to the pooch just doesn't do justice to the extent of the...screwing).
The next morning, Leslie's never been so glad to hear Brittany, Candi, and Serena on the radio, attempting once again to divide 4,341 by 283 and to look out her window and see her car right there, safe and sound in front of her house, just like she never left it there the afternoon before.
Part 3 -->
Pairing: Leslie/Ben
Rating: R
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Drinking with a Mysterious Stranger at The Bulge
That second day Leslie just goes through the motions, utterly confused. She thinks maybe April is behind this elaborate prank, but that doesn't really make sense because April is out of the office most of the day with Andy and Ron, checking out college classes. If she were doing this, she'd want to see the fruits of her labor--Leslie slowly unhinge.
So she talks with Ann, once again comes to the slow realization that she is a steamroller (although she still thinks that bulldozer is a more accurate metaphor), and calls Ben and leaves him half a dozen voice mails asking him to meet with her at their park. Like that first night, they decide to end contact for good, and then heartbroken, she goes to Ann's house, finally sobbing against her best friend's shoulder.
But this time, they also watch the first two Harry Potter movies after Leslie calms down enough to pay attention to the TV.
A few days into it, she lays in bed and listens to Crazy Ira and the Douche as they once again, obnoxiously quiz Brittany, Candi, and Serena from the Glitter Factory on math problems. Leslie can't help herself--she picks up her phone, calls in, and gives them the answers to all six questions--five of which they haven't even asked the strippers yet.
When William Barnes calls her later in the day to remind her how popular Crazy Ira and the Douche are in Pawnee, and also suggests that maybe since she's a city council candidate, that she shouldn't be on the air telling them that they're sexist jerks, she sees his point, but Leslie doesn't really care. She won't do it again and even if she did, no one will remember but her.
Of course even later that day, when she's dropping some forms off on the second floor, she unexpectedly walks by Ben in the hallway and she can't help but notice that he gives her a small smile as he quickly passes by her. Okay--so maybe she will call in again.
Days later (at least for her), Leslie tells herself she's only going to ask him because he likes sci-fi stuff and maybe he'll have an idea as to what is going on. She waits until she knows that Chris is in a meeting with Mayor Gunderson and Ben is alone in the City Manager's office. Leslie walks by his door, sees that he's focused on some papers spread out on his desk and steps inside. Quickly, before Ben can look up and fix her with a look of discouragement, she takes a seat on the other side of his desk.
He raises his head and is clearly a bit surprised, but before he can say anything, she asks, "Have you noticed anything weird going on?"
Ben stares at her. "Weird? What?" And then without giving her time to clarify, he adds, "Um, no."
"Are you sure? The past few days...being very similar? Repeating somehow?"
He doesn't answer, just narrows his eyes at her like he's trying to figure out what she's doing--what she's trying to steamroll him into this time. While she sits there, she can't help but recognize his brown cardigan as the one she's worn previously, throwing it on in the middle of the night once, before sneaking off to the bathroom at his house. That seems so long ago.
"Would you tell me if you had? Noticed anything strange?" She asks before sighing.
"Leslie. Stop," he pauses, and gives her a look that's the same mix of sadness, trepidation, and exhaustion that she's gotten used to since....well, not since they'd broken up exactly, but definitely since the night she drove him to that abandoned gas station because she couldn't bear to see him talking with Shauna Malwae-Tweep.
It's the look that breaks her heart into small, scattered pieces. It's the look he gave her before using ordinary, regular, everyday scissors (instead of the correct, over-sized ceremonial ones), to cut the red ribbon he had hastily tied around the Smallest Park. Right before he and Chris had walked away together and left her standing there with the remnants of the protest and cook-out she had organized to keep her and Ben working together until at least 2070.
"I don't know what you're talking about but I can't do this anymore," he says quietly, not looking at her.
"I can't either Ben," she almost-whispers, getting up and turning to leave. But before she's through the doorway, she swings back around and grabs a handful of his newly replenished pens, pencils, and highlighters. This bunch (unlike the others that are still in her office drawer), will probably just be back here in the morning, so what does it really matter?
When she gets home later that night, Leslie sets the office supplies that she took from Ben on her kitchen table, eats three double chocolate brownies for dinner and takes an Ambien. When she wakes up in the morning, it's to a different version of the same exact damn thing.
The pens, pencils, and highlighters are gone from her kitchen table.
There's one day where she really feels like she can't take it even one more time. At 9:30 she walks over to Jerry, grabs the mug full of luke-warm coffee off his desk, and pours it all over his shirt herself, five minutes before he would have made the same mess on his own.
Then she spends all morning in her office with the door shut alternately crying and researching time loops on the internet, before giving up when April walks in around noon and hands Leslie a triple mocha with extra whipped cream. That small kindness makes her start to cry again.
April takes the coffee back. "This is just because Tom told me you dumped Jerry's coffee on his shirt this morning," she pauses. When Leslie continues to sniffle, she adds, "Stop doing that or you can't have it back."
Leslie looks at her, face still scrunching up. She's sure she looks pathetic, but she doesn't care. She holds her hand out, pleading with her watery eyes. It had extra whipped cream and she's just so exhausted. And sad. And confused.
"It's no big deal. I just found it outside by the garbage. Here, just take it. God."
The triple mocha is put back in her outstretched hand, and then younger woman leans down to give her a quick, awkward hug, before quickly walking out of Leslie's office.
A couple of hours later Leslie looks at the clock on the wall and knows Ann will be showing up in a few minutes and she just...can't. Can't be called a steamroller by her best friend or even proactively try to start the whole conversation off by telling Ann that yes, she knows that she is a steamroller. She steamrolls. She's a massive, enormous, runaway steamroller with a cement brick on the gas pedal and the rolley-thing in front of the machine and everything. She gets it.
She doesn't want to insist that Ann loves Harry Potter movies (but how could she not? They're so good!) or even give up and again ask Ann what her favorite movie is--how on earth can it possibly be Pretty Woman? And she certainly doesn't want to talk Ann into dropping everything and buying plane tickets to Paris online one more time. Because, really, although it was a fun idea, it's not like they actually got to go anywhere since the soonest flight didn't leave until the next morning.
Starting right now, she flat-out refuses to participate in this any longer, whatever-the-hell is happening to her.
So, she ducks out of City Hall at two in the afternoon, fifteen minutes before she knows Ann will stop by and drives right to The Bulge where she spends her afternoon on a barstool, talking to a nice man older man with grey hair, a large bushy mustache, and a deep, mysterious voice while throwing back whipped cream-topped, sexually-explicit-named cocktails on the house.
Leslie takes a cab home a few hours later and tipsily calls Ben and tries to get him to come by so they can...talk.
Looking back on it later that night, she's pretty sure she also mentioned how much she missed talking about certain political figures and the sex acts they were code for. Because, that's exactly what a person will do after spending three hours drinking free blow jobs and screaming orgasms in Pawnee's gay bar, instead of staying at work and reliving for the 19th time, what is quickly becoming the single worst day of her entire life.
Ben had ended up exasperatedly hanging up on her and really, Leslie can't blame him at all.
She absolutely should not have called her ex-boyfriend and still technically-boss, and told him that she thought about him while she was drinking blow jobs and that she really, really wanted to Lady Bird Johnson the hell out of him. God, she really fucked the pooch on that one (sure, she thinks the term is still a little vulgar, but sometimes making love to the pooch just doesn't do justice to the extent of the...screwing).
The next morning, Leslie's never been so glad to hear Brittany, Candi, and Serena on the radio, attempting once again to divide 4,341 by 283 and to look out her window and see her car right there, safe and sound in front of her house, just like she never left it there the afternoon before.
Part 3 -->