The Smallest Park with the Biggest Time Loop 3/4
Title: The Smallest Park with the Biggest Time Loop (or 23 Times Leslie Knope Woke Up Alone and One Time She Didn't) 3/4
Pairing: Leslie/Ben
Rating: R
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4
Let's Just Say Screw It
Leslie spends the next few iterations catching Councilman Howser's binder before it hits the floor, complimenting Tom on his polka dot tie, and once she even gets up and takes Jerry's coffee mug from him before he walks to the copier and hands it back when he's done, because no matter how amusing it is, she just can't bear watching him slosh it all over his plaid shirt this many times in a row. And aside from one evening when she inexplicably yells out, "I'm pregnant," to Ben as he turns to leave the park or the time she writes Andy a check for one thousand dollars and then grabs ten Mouse Rat CDs, handing them out to people walking down City Hall's first floor corridor--it's been pretty standard. Her new-normal.
And after a disappointing morning early on, when she discovered that just like Ben's pens, a breakfast-food themed quilt that she had started the night before was gone in the morning, she sometimes now stays up as late as she can and works on improving her French or reads through a new political biography. Thankfully, that knowledge isn't gone by six in the morning.
Through all of this, there is one thing that is pretty constant--she watches Ben walk away from her over and over, no matter how hard she tries to listen to him and understand his feelings. His feelings that steadfastly remain that although he doesn't want to not have contact with her, it's for the best. They simply can't return to being just friends.
And so here they are. Again.
After a full afternoon of texting Ann about six times an hour, Leslie had called his phone at four in the afternoon, like most of the times before--except for those couple of days when she just couldn't bear to meet with him, that afternoon she got hammered at The Bulge, and the one day she got in her car at noon and just drove south for eight hours, ending up just outside of Atlanta, going to sleep in a motel room and waking up in her own bed at six on the dot.
But this afternoon, she leaves Ben one (and only one) succinct, straight-to-the-point voicemail, although she does tack an apology onto the end too this time.
Hi. It's me. Leslie. Hi. Please meet me at the Smallest Park at six. I'd like to talk, but more importantly, I want to listen to you and what you want, Ben. I promise. That's all. And I'm really sorry about how I have been acting.
"If you don't want to have any more contact with me, I finally understand," she tells him once more, while he sits on the park bench with obvious discomfort and avoids her eyes.
"I don't want that. Really. But I just think it's for the best," he responds measuredly, now looking at her and she has to remind herself not to mouth the sentences along with him.
"Okay," she answers, even though her mind is vehemently disagreeing with her words. Like it always does at this point.
"Okay," he agrees, then repeats it again, before getting up and starting to walk away from her for the 24th miserable, unbearable time.
"There is another option," she says suddenly, before she even knows exactly what that is. Leslie just knows it can't be this. And then the words are out of her mouth before she can even think it through. "We could just say screw it and do this thing for real."
"What?"
"I miss you like crazy. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. So, let's just say screw it."
He says "No," softly but he doesn't leave, he absolutely does not turn and leave, so that's new.
"We would have to tell Chris," Ben says finally.
"Yeah."
"It could turn into a scandal."
"Yeah," Leslie agrees again.
"It could hurt your campaign."
"Yes." It could. She doesn't care because she simply can't stand to watch him walk away from her again.
"How would you imagine we do this?"
"I don't know," she answers honestly. Leslie just knows that they can't not try. And if it costs her the election, well, then honestly, fuck that too. She takes an unsteady breath and continues, almost scared to meet his eyes. "But I know how I feel and I want to be with you. But I'm done steamrolling people. This is how I feel. How do you feel?"
She swallows back a cry and then waits for him...for Ben to tell her what he wants. And he does, it's just not in words. Within seconds he's holding the sides of her head in his hands and kissing her, and Leslie wants to sob with relief. They continue to clutch at each other, still kissing, all while a light dusting of snow starts to fall down around them.
Leslie's house is a mess, but neither of them pays the pile of magazines, books, and boxes much mind. Ben manages to trip over a birdhouse as he walks backwards, trying to unbutton Leslie's blouse and lead her up the stairs. Over the last few months, he's clearly forgotten where the paths are and how to reach point B from point A unscathed.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, but Leslie, let's maybe clean up a bit. I can help--"
"You're talking about this now?" She asks, then gasps when he runs his thumb back and forth over her bra-covered nipple.
"Yes. Now is good," he smiles. "Soon, I'll have you weak and defenseless, ready to agree to anything."
She pulls back and laughs. "And you're going to use that power...to get me to clean my house?"
"Um...oh, wait. Maybe not. New plan. Come here," he pulls her flush against his chest, kissing her deeply, before moving down to suck on the skin of her neck. "Let's get back to that thought later."
His hands wander down to her pants, he's unbuttoning and zipping, before she steps out of them, leaving the discarded J.Crew trousers on her stairs. His shirt is next, somewhere in the hallway and pretty soon, they're both just in their underwear, outside her bedroom. And they just can't stop kissing, and touching, and grinding into each other.
"Ben. Ben. God, I--" she trails off, barely above a whisper.
"It's okay," he kisses her forehead.
Leslie is a very emotional person. She knows this about herself and it's something almost all of her past boyfriends have found uncomfortable. But Ben has always just accepted it. He's brushed tears away, or kissed them as they ran down her cheeks, but he's never told her to stop. At most he'll whisper, "shhh..." while rubbing little circles on her back--whether they're watching Up together on her couch or an especially moving video of a turtle and bird becoming best friends on YouTube.
Tonight when she cries, he just holds her, runs his hands up and down her sides, and across her back, pulling her tight against him.
When they do stumble past stacks of photo albums and more books (including a couple of her college French textbooks) to find her bed, Ben sits on the edge, pulling her towards him so he can nuzzle against her belly.
"I missed you so much," she whispers.
"I missed you too. Let me show you how much, Leslie."
Minutes later she's coming against his mouth and tongue, her fingers pulling lightly at his hair. They make out for a few more lazy minutes, before she encourages Ben to cover her, missionary-style, a position which Leslie has never been a huge fan of, but right now, it's all she wants--Ben's comforting weight on top of her, surrounding her, her legs wrapped around him tightly as they move together. When he kisses her, she can smell her scent all over his face and it's so erotic, it makes her breath hitch and her calves push against him, pulling him in deeper.
It's only much later, when they're all tangled up together in her bedding, in that snugly, comfortable, almost-falling asleep state, that she realizes that this could all go away tomorrow.
Leslie spends the next hour or so feeling much more awake, softly talking to him, telling him that she loves him, how much she's missed him, how much she wants him to still be in her bed in the morning. Ben is mostly asleep, even snoring at times throughout her words, but the first time she says, "I love you," he stirs groggily, asks if she said something.
Leslie just smiles and snuggles closer to him, kisses his temple, and tells him to go back to sleep.
He doesn't. Instead he reaches for her, turns on his side so that they're facing each other, and slides his hand up the inside of her thigh. His fingers wander up to where they were just joined a couple of hours ago, while hers work down his stomach and to where he's already half-hard. She runs her thumb lightly over the head, smiling at his shudder and moan.
It's just so easy for Leslie to forget the past twenty-something days. To just live in the moment of her and Ben in her bed right now.
"Do I need to wear you out some more? So that you'll actually fall asleep?" he teases, looking fairly tired but also definitely turned-on, before leaning his head down to take one of her nipples between his lips. Ben's fingers continue to slide, circle, and push in below. Within a few minutes, he's guiding her to straddle his lap, sink down on him, and they're fitting together again, so perfectly.
Later, when Ben does finally fall into a deep sleep, she quietly gets up, throws on a t-shirt, and goes into the kitchen to make herself some coffee.
Despite Leslie's best efforts, she falls asleep at some point because when she wakes up, it's not to the very familiar sounds of stripper math, but to Ben lightly stroking his fingers along the exposed curve of her hip.
"I turned off your alarm," he admits, looking down at her like he can't quite believe he's here and touching her so intimately--so freely after months of not seeming to be able to handle even being in the same room with her.
"Okay," she replies, sleepily. Then asks, "what time is it?" before she sits up in a rush and grabs her phone from the bedside.
The date on the small screen says November 18, while Ben answers her question with, "just after seven."
She practically giggles and although she's sure she has what must be horrible coffee-sleep-morning breath, she turns and kisses Ben lightly but heart-felt on the lips. Because morning kisses before brushing can still be nice but the same morning kisses with tongue are just kind of gross.
"I was thinking...it's Friday," he continues when she pulls away, kind of oblivious to how giddy and relieved she is. "Nothing really happens on Fridays. Why don't we both take the day off and get out of town for the weekend. Maybe check out those towels you like so much at the Grandville Hotel?" He smiles, then shrugs. "Or we could go to Chicago. Or rent a cabin by Lake Monroe? I know it's a little snowy but..."
"You want to go away for the weekend?" She asks. Then confirms, "With me?"
He laughs. "Um, yes. Well, at first I was thinking maybe with Kathy Ireland? But since you're here and already mostly naked..." he says, fingering the hem of her Li'l Sebastian t-shirt, the only thing she's wearing at the moment--which is currently bunched up around her waist, so it's really not hiding much.
Leslie makes a face. Giggles again before she gets serious. "But Ben, we need to talk about how to do this--"
"We do...but not until, maybe Sunday afternoon. We should just get away for a day or two. Reconnect."
"Didn't we do that last night? A couple of times?" She teases, starting to relax into this--this amazing Friday the 18th of November.
"We did," he grins, taking her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. "But I really want to do it some more."
Part 4 -->
Pairing: Leslie/Ben
Rating: R
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4
Let's Just Say Screw It
Leslie spends the next few iterations catching Councilman Howser's binder before it hits the floor, complimenting Tom on his polka dot tie, and once she even gets up and takes Jerry's coffee mug from him before he walks to the copier and hands it back when he's done, because no matter how amusing it is, she just can't bear watching him slosh it all over his plaid shirt this many times in a row. And aside from one evening when she inexplicably yells out, "I'm pregnant," to Ben as he turns to leave the park or the time she writes Andy a check for one thousand dollars and then grabs ten Mouse Rat CDs, handing them out to people walking down City Hall's first floor corridor--it's been pretty standard. Her new-normal.
And after a disappointing morning early on, when she discovered that just like Ben's pens, a breakfast-food themed quilt that she had started the night before was gone in the morning, she sometimes now stays up as late as she can and works on improving her French or reads through a new political biography. Thankfully, that knowledge isn't gone by six in the morning.
Through all of this, there is one thing that is pretty constant--she watches Ben walk away from her over and over, no matter how hard she tries to listen to him and understand his feelings. His feelings that steadfastly remain that although he doesn't want to not have contact with her, it's for the best. They simply can't return to being just friends.
And so here they are. Again.
After a full afternoon of texting Ann about six times an hour, Leslie had called his phone at four in the afternoon, like most of the times before--except for those couple of days when she just couldn't bear to meet with him, that afternoon she got hammered at The Bulge, and the one day she got in her car at noon and just drove south for eight hours, ending up just outside of Atlanta, going to sleep in a motel room and waking up in her own bed at six on the dot.
But this afternoon, she leaves Ben one (and only one) succinct, straight-to-the-point voicemail, although she does tack an apology onto the end too this time.
Hi. It's me. Leslie. Hi. Please meet me at the Smallest Park at six. I'd like to talk, but more importantly, I want to listen to you and what you want, Ben. I promise. That's all. And I'm really sorry about how I have been acting.
"If you don't want to have any more contact with me, I finally understand," she tells him once more, while he sits on the park bench with obvious discomfort and avoids her eyes.
"I don't want that. Really. But I just think it's for the best," he responds measuredly, now looking at her and she has to remind herself not to mouth the sentences along with him.
"Okay," she answers, even though her mind is vehemently disagreeing with her words. Like it always does at this point.
"Okay," he agrees, then repeats it again, before getting up and starting to walk away from her for the 24th miserable, unbearable time.
"There is another option," she says suddenly, before she even knows exactly what that is. Leslie just knows it can't be this. And then the words are out of her mouth before she can even think it through. "We could just say screw it and do this thing for real."
"What?"
"I miss you like crazy. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. So, let's just say screw it."
He says "No," softly but he doesn't leave, he absolutely does not turn and leave, so that's new.
"We would have to tell Chris," Ben says finally.
"Yeah."
"It could turn into a scandal."
"Yeah," Leslie agrees again.
"It could hurt your campaign."
"Yes." It could. She doesn't care because she simply can't stand to watch him walk away from her again.
"How would you imagine we do this?"
"I don't know," she answers honestly. Leslie just knows that they can't not try. And if it costs her the election, well, then honestly, fuck that too. She takes an unsteady breath and continues, almost scared to meet his eyes. "But I know how I feel and I want to be with you. But I'm done steamrolling people. This is how I feel. How do you feel?"
She swallows back a cry and then waits for him...for Ben to tell her what he wants. And he does, it's just not in words. Within seconds he's holding the sides of her head in his hands and kissing her, and Leslie wants to sob with relief. They continue to clutch at each other, still kissing, all while a light dusting of snow starts to fall down around them.
Leslie's house is a mess, but neither of them pays the pile of magazines, books, and boxes much mind. Ben manages to trip over a birdhouse as he walks backwards, trying to unbutton Leslie's blouse and lead her up the stairs. Over the last few months, he's clearly forgotten where the paths are and how to reach point B from point A unscathed.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, but Leslie, let's maybe clean up a bit. I can help--"
"You're talking about this now?" She asks, then gasps when he runs his thumb back and forth over her bra-covered nipple.
"Yes. Now is good," he smiles. "Soon, I'll have you weak and defenseless, ready to agree to anything."
She pulls back and laughs. "And you're going to use that power...to get me to clean my house?"
"Um...oh, wait. Maybe not. New plan. Come here," he pulls her flush against his chest, kissing her deeply, before moving down to suck on the skin of her neck. "Let's get back to that thought later."
His hands wander down to her pants, he's unbuttoning and zipping, before she steps out of them, leaving the discarded J.Crew trousers on her stairs. His shirt is next, somewhere in the hallway and pretty soon, they're both just in their underwear, outside her bedroom. And they just can't stop kissing, and touching, and grinding into each other.
"Ben. Ben. God, I--" she trails off, barely above a whisper.
"It's okay," he kisses her forehead.
Leslie is a very emotional person. She knows this about herself and it's something almost all of her past boyfriends have found uncomfortable. But Ben has always just accepted it. He's brushed tears away, or kissed them as they ran down her cheeks, but he's never told her to stop. At most he'll whisper, "shhh..." while rubbing little circles on her back--whether they're watching Up together on her couch or an especially moving video of a turtle and bird becoming best friends on YouTube.
Tonight when she cries, he just holds her, runs his hands up and down her sides, and across her back, pulling her tight against him.
When they do stumble past stacks of photo albums and more books (including a couple of her college French textbooks) to find her bed, Ben sits on the edge, pulling her towards him so he can nuzzle against her belly.
"I missed you so much," she whispers.
"I missed you too. Let me show you how much, Leslie."
Minutes later she's coming against his mouth and tongue, her fingers pulling lightly at his hair. They make out for a few more lazy minutes, before she encourages Ben to cover her, missionary-style, a position which Leslie has never been a huge fan of, but right now, it's all she wants--Ben's comforting weight on top of her, surrounding her, her legs wrapped around him tightly as they move together. When he kisses her, she can smell her scent all over his face and it's so erotic, it makes her breath hitch and her calves push against him, pulling him in deeper.
It's only much later, when they're all tangled up together in her bedding, in that snugly, comfortable, almost-falling asleep state, that she realizes that this could all go away tomorrow.
Leslie spends the next hour or so feeling much more awake, softly talking to him, telling him that she loves him, how much she's missed him, how much she wants him to still be in her bed in the morning. Ben is mostly asleep, even snoring at times throughout her words, but the first time she says, "I love you," he stirs groggily, asks if she said something.
Leslie just smiles and snuggles closer to him, kisses his temple, and tells him to go back to sleep.
He doesn't. Instead he reaches for her, turns on his side so that they're facing each other, and slides his hand up the inside of her thigh. His fingers wander up to where they were just joined a couple of hours ago, while hers work down his stomach and to where he's already half-hard. She runs her thumb lightly over the head, smiling at his shudder and moan.
It's just so easy for Leslie to forget the past twenty-something days. To just live in the moment of her and Ben in her bed right now.
"Do I need to wear you out some more? So that you'll actually fall asleep?" he teases, looking fairly tired but also definitely turned-on, before leaning his head down to take one of her nipples between his lips. Ben's fingers continue to slide, circle, and push in below. Within a few minutes, he's guiding her to straddle his lap, sink down on him, and they're fitting together again, so perfectly.
Later, when Ben does finally fall into a deep sleep, she quietly gets up, throws on a t-shirt, and goes into the kitchen to make herself some coffee.
Despite Leslie's best efforts, she falls asleep at some point because when she wakes up, it's not to the very familiar sounds of stripper math, but to Ben lightly stroking his fingers along the exposed curve of her hip.
"I turned off your alarm," he admits, looking down at her like he can't quite believe he's here and touching her so intimately--so freely after months of not seeming to be able to handle even being in the same room with her.
"Okay," she replies, sleepily. Then asks, "what time is it?" before she sits up in a rush and grabs her phone from the bedside.
The date on the small screen says November 18, while Ben answers her question with, "just after seven."
She practically giggles and although she's sure she has what must be horrible coffee-sleep-morning breath, she turns and kisses Ben lightly but heart-felt on the lips. Because morning kisses before brushing can still be nice but the same morning kisses with tongue are just kind of gross.
"I was thinking...it's Friday," he continues when she pulls away, kind of oblivious to how giddy and relieved she is. "Nothing really happens on Fridays. Why don't we both take the day off and get out of town for the weekend. Maybe check out those towels you like so much at the Grandville Hotel?" He smiles, then shrugs. "Or we could go to Chicago. Or rent a cabin by Lake Monroe? I know it's a little snowy but..."
"You want to go away for the weekend?" She asks. Then confirms, "With me?"
He laughs. "Um, yes. Well, at first I was thinking maybe with Kathy Ireland? But since you're here and already mostly naked..." he says, fingering the hem of her Li'l Sebastian t-shirt, the only thing she's wearing at the moment--which is currently bunched up around her waist, so it's really not hiding much.
Leslie makes a face. Giggles again before she gets serious. "But Ben, we need to talk about how to do this--"
"We do...but not until, maybe Sunday afternoon. We should just get away for a day or two. Reconnect."
"Didn't we do that last night? A couple of times?" She teases, starting to relax into this--this amazing Friday the 18th of November.
"We did," he grins, taking her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. "But I really want to do it some more."
Part 4 -->