On the Couch
Words: 2420
From a prompt in leslie_ben - specifically leslie-ben.livejournal.com/146217.html here. Thanks for the encouragement, rikyl ! (This wasn't betaed, though.)
Clearly, they weren't going to win this one. They finished their meal (quickly), skipped dessert (shockingly, at least for Leslie) and headed off to Chris' condo (faux-cheerfully). Once there, they had to attend to the logistics of an overnight stay - Ben did have a toothbrush with him, but he didn't have extra clothes or pajamas, so he borrowed some of Chris'. (This configuration did give Leslie the notion that his plans had been... no, she gave her head a shake, surely not. He'd probably planned to either drive back, or to stay overnight in his own hotel room, by himself, where he wouldn't need to wear pajamas if he didn't wear them at home, what did he wear to sleep in at home, maybe he just wore boxers, or, he's changing his clothes in the bathroom right now, does he even wear boxers, or... oh, god, stop it.)
In the bathroom, Ben was indeed wearing boxers, at least until he put on Chris' running pants and shirt which, at least, fit, although they weren't really like any clothes he himself owned. He ran the water and slapped some on his face, looked in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at himself, gave himself a half-smile. It's not just you. OK, stop it, have to go out and make Chris think it's just like all those other nights on the road, when my life didn't just change. Stop it.
Leslie carried her bag into the spare room and set it down with a sigh. And then figured, what the hell, she might as well be comfortable, physically at least, and changed back into her antisexy traveling outfit. Well, maybe that would help Ben out a bit. Not that her work outfit exactly screamed sexy. And he'd said all that stuff anyhow. Stop it. She sent Ann a quick text to indicate that, no, she was not in fact making out all over Ben's face, and would update Ann in the morning, and went back into the living room. It seemed like the expected thing to do, right, between completely platonic co-workers? Come out and chat, in the evening, between a completely innocent dinner, and retiring to her bedroom, on the other side of the condo? Right, that was the thing to do.
Although she had the oddest feeling when she sat down on the couch that she was sitting on Ben's bed, which was unsettling. Maybe there was a hint in the little look that Ben gave her, which was because he had the same thought; Leslie is sitting on what is, for tonight, my bed. Followed by: for god's sake, stop it.
And then they both had to endure a half-hour of conversation with Chris, talking about running paths in Indianapolis and Little League venues in Pawnee.
But at last, once Chris finally said, oh so cheerfully, after checking with them a million times if they wanted some wheatgrass juice (no) or a massage (ohgodno), that he was going to turn in, they just sat there. Pretending to watch television. In Ben's case, he couldn't have told you what was on if you'd asked him while his eyes were on the screen. Leslie was watching and paying some attention (for the record, it was a History Channel documentary on the industrial war effort in World War II, which she'd requested they watch not because she was really interested, but because the conversation was - literally - killing her), but in a very distracted way, where everything they showed made her think of something else, as her mind flitted through all manner of randomness to distract her from the situation she was actually in.
Which, apparently, was that she was finally alone again with Ben. It did take a little while for that to sink in. It was such an effort to pretend that everything was normal while Chris was around, that both of them had to take a few minutes to just breathe and sit and be there before they could fully take his absence into account. And fully realize the presence of just each other. Leslie folded her legs under her on the couch. Ben uncrossed his arms and relaxed his shoulders a bit. They didn't look directly at each other. They could feel each other's movements, and hear each other breathe. They were aware of each other in their peripheral vision. They were conscious that they had both been silent since they were left alone. Increasingly conscious.
Leslie gave a little sigh, which took her by surprise when she realized it was audible.
Ben spoke first. "This is weird." They looked at each other then, and it was almost like the last two hours hadn't happened at all. It was such a relief that he was honest, so Leslie laughed a little. "We're on Chris' couch." "Yup, we are, and I'm wearing his clothes." They both laughed a little, lightly, not really nervously. He's got the sexiest voice. Stop it. Wait, do I still have to stop it now? "Um, well," said Leslie, turning towards him and putting her chin in her hand. "Well," said Ben, doing the same.
Well. That's a word you use when you're about to say something else. But neither of them went on to say anything. Leslie thought she'd never seen him so relaxed, so happy. She wanted him to look like this all the time, why doesn't he look like this all the time? She knew she'd made him happy by telling him no, it wasn't just him, god, they'd waited so long to say these things to each other, and now what? Who cared, she just wanted to look at him smile like this for another moment.
Ben realized he was holding his breath. He dropped his hand from his chin, fidgeting a bit. He was dying to kiss her. That's all he could think. It's not even fair to say he was thinking about kissing her - he just had this thought, of kissing her, and that's where it stopped. He wasn't thinking about anything beyond or around or beside kissing her. Not sex, not really even touching her while he was kissing her, not what would happen after he kissed her. Just her lips on his, that was it, that was the entire content of his head.
Leslie wasn't even that coherent. She was just feeling warm. She could feel herself slip into giddiness, as she got more... not anxious, exactly, she really felt pretty calm, especially considering. Just a bit lightheaded and lost, gazing at Ben.
His hand reached out and touched her elbow, just holding it with his fingers lightly, really, it was almost an automatic thing, what else could he do with his hand, just let it hang there? No, no, clearly not. Leslie straightened her arm so her hand reached his shoulder. They didn't break their gaze into each other's eyes.
And of course, what could Ben do then but kiss her? She was right there. Turns out, even though he hadn't actually thought beyond just the kiss, he did in fact do other things that went along with kissing her - at least, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her head, pulling her towards him gently, her hair threading itself around his fingers. Leslie did the same, moving her hand to his neck, brushing her thumb against his jaw. It was warm, and full; a serious kiss. It was everything Ben had imagined, and he could feel himself relax into it, into her, into this moment. Leslie let herself sigh again, into the kiss. She didn't feel lightheaded any more - she felt as if she'd been underwater and this was her precious breath of air.
After a long moment, or three, their lips pulled apart, and they leaned their heads, against each other's hands, along the back of the couch, and grinned. They were just far enough away from each other to be able to look at each other without going cross-eyed. Their other hands hadn't moved from their own laps, but their knees were touching now, since they'd moved towards each other just a bit. They weren't all tangled up in each other, but it wasn't at all tentative, it was just perfect.
Ben closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and then opened them again to look at her. She was still smiling. Leslie looked down and away for a moment, clearing her throat in a way that sounded more like a hum, and looked back at him with a grin. "I kinda just had to do that," said Ben. "Mm-hum," said Leslie, grinning a bit wider, and then her smile faded a little. "I think that's all we should do, though, at least..." she went on to say, but he finished "... for now, yeah, that's probably a good idea..." "Yeah." "Yeah." "OK." "Right." "Mm."
A beat. They are still looking, but both of their smiles have faded. They both inhale, and forget to exhale.
Then, quickly, Ben reached his other hand up to her face, and leaned in for another kiss, a passionate, fierce kiss. Leslie brought her other hand up around his shoulders and pulled him closer, and they were pressed against each other, just for a moment, pulling more of their bodies together, kissing each other more deeply, intensely, Ben angling his head against hers, his forearm pressing into her chest, her wrapping her arm around his back -
And then, suddenly, they let each other go, both turned so they were facing the television again, sitting just far enough apart so they weren't touching, although close enough that... well, close enough. They were both breathing a little bit hard. Not quite gasping, but... well, close enough.
"Um." "Yeah."
A moment.
Leslie turned her head to take a peek at Ben, and saw that he had a huge grin on his face, which made her start to giggle. Which of course made him start to laugh, too, as he turned to look at her.
"Oh my god." "I know."
Their laughter settled down a bit, and they turned again to look at each other, heads back on their own hands, but, this time, knees touching, just barely. Leslie took a deep breath. "What are we going to do?" she asked, waving her free hand a bit to gesture that she meant her question in a broader sense than right that second."Well, I don't think we're going to decide much tonight, not here," said Ben, chuckling a little, ruefully.
"We could just sneak out and drive back to Pawnee, tell Chris that something... something came up? Some kind of Little League emergency?" Leslie offered. Ben just looked at her, eyebrows raised. "OK, yeah, no, right."
"Look," Ben began. "Let's just get through this, the rest of this trip, and get back to Pawnee, and then we can, we can, um, I don't know, talk?" He started to smile more broadly partway through the sentence, and Leslie was starting to grin, too. "Yeah, OK, that sounds good." "What are you doing tomorrow night, uh, evening?" Ben asked, looking away, a touch embarrassed, and then back at Leslie again. He couldn't quite find a way to invite himself over to her place, but of course that's what needed to happen, what else could happen, god, I am not really all that suave, am I, it's a wonder any of this ever happened.... And then he was a bit distracted by the idea of being alone with Leslie at her house, and his hand was reaching out to her hand on her own knee, and their fingers intertwined, and he was holding his breath again...
"I don't know, tomorrow, let me think..." she was teasing him, turning her fingers over in his just a little and he thought thank god, she's teasing me, I couldn't stand it if she stopped teasing me. "Oh, right, tomorrow I was thinking maybe you'd come over and we could watch some documentaries on the History Channel?" She grinned a little wider, tipping her head towards the television as she said it. And he had a vision of them at Leslie's place (what does her place look like?), on her couch, just the two of them, and she's smiling at him like that, and he's going to kiss her again, on this couch, Chris' couch, which...
He took a sharp breath, and sat up straight, letting go of her hand. "Yeah, that's a great idea, but, um, right now, sorry, I, uh..." and he slapped his hands adamantly on his own knees, which were now squarely straight ahead, as his feet were on the ground, firmly.
It reminded Leslie of that time when she asked him to dinner, just before she tried internet dating for, like, five disastrous minutes. Now she gets it. She decides to help him out, this time, she can be a mature grownup with patience, now that she knows how he feels. And how he feels is awesome. Stop. It. "OK, yeah, this is nuts, we're, this is, no, not. I'll just, yeah, I'm going to go to bed now. I mean, the other room."
"OK." He turned to look at her, gives her a crooked smile. He hated that idea. But what else could they do? She had to go to bed. In the other room. God, she's fucking luminous, just look at her, look at those eyes. Jesus, stop it!
"Goodnight," she said, trying to sound decisive, and cheerful, failing.
"Goodnight." Ben turned to look at the floor, took a deep breath.
She doesn't move. Come on, Leslie, get up! It's easy, just get up and walk away. You can do it! It was like her butt was rooted to the couch.
"Leslie?" He turned to look at her again.
"Yeah?"
"You OK?" He smiled, like he gets the joke, like he'd laugh, given the right provocation. It's so desperately attractive, this is not helping.
"Yeah. Just..." she smiled in his direction, not quite looking directly at him. "Yeah, OK, here I go."
She forced herself up all at once, and, to her surprise, Ben stood up, too. He didn't get in her way, though; he stepped forward past the coffee table, and gestured for her to move ahead. She did, and half-turned to look at him, a little confused. He leaned down and put his hands gently on the sides of her throat, his thumbs on her cheeks, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, lightly, and then said, very quietly, "Go get some sleep." "OK," she murmured, "you too."
Leslie had grasped his biceps, and so they slid their hands down each other's arms, until they gave each other's hands a decisive squeeze, and then let go.
"I'll see you tomorrow." "Uh-huh." She beamed at him. He gave her a half-smile, looked down, looked back at her. She stepped away.
She walked to the bedroom, and turned to take a look back when she gets there. He was standing where she left him, arms crossed, watching her, waiting. She went inside and closed the door behind her. Very quietly, very professionally.
Ben sank down on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He was grinning, though. He looked up at the television. History Channel documentaries, huh?
Leslie flopped down onto her bed and groaned, and then chuckled to herself. She reached for her phone, to text Ann, but just held it in her hand. What on earth would I say? It's OK, we're going to watch History Channel documentaries?
From a prompt in leslie_ben - specifically leslie-ben.livejournal.com/146217.html here. Thanks for the encouragement, rikyl ! (This wasn't betaed, though.)
Clearly, they weren't going to win this one. They finished their meal (quickly), skipped dessert (shockingly, at least for Leslie) and headed off to Chris' condo (faux-cheerfully). Once there, they had to attend to the logistics of an overnight stay - Ben did have a toothbrush with him, but he didn't have extra clothes or pajamas, so he borrowed some of Chris'. (This configuration did give Leslie the notion that his plans had been... no, she gave her head a shake, surely not. He'd probably planned to either drive back, or to stay overnight in his own hotel room, by himself, where he wouldn't need to wear pajamas if he didn't wear them at home, what did he wear to sleep in at home, maybe he just wore boxers, or, he's changing his clothes in the bathroom right now, does he even wear boxers, or... oh, god, stop it.)
In the bathroom, Ben was indeed wearing boxers, at least until he put on Chris' running pants and shirt which, at least, fit, although they weren't really like any clothes he himself owned. He ran the water and slapped some on his face, looked in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at himself, gave himself a half-smile. It's not just you. OK, stop it, have to go out and make Chris think it's just like all those other nights on the road, when my life didn't just change. Stop it.
Leslie carried her bag into the spare room and set it down with a sigh. And then figured, what the hell, she might as well be comfortable, physically at least, and changed back into her antisexy traveling outfit. Well, maybe that would help Ben out a bit. Not that her work outfit exactly screamed sexy. And he'd said all that stuff anyhow. Stop it. She sent Ann a quick text to indicate that, no, she was not in fact making out all over Ben's face, and would update Ann in the morning, and went back into the living room. It seemed like the expected thing to do, right, between completely platonic co-workers? Come out and chat, in the evening, between a completely innocent dinner, and retiring to her bedroom, on the other side of the condo? Right, that was the thing to do.
Although she had the oddest feeling when she sat down on the couch that she was sitting on Ben's bed, which was unsettling. Maybe there was a hint in the little look that Ben gave her, which was because he had the same thought; Leslie is sitting on what is, for tonight, my bed. Followed by: for god's sake, stop it.
And then they both had to endure a half-hour of conversation with Chris, talking about running paths in Indianapolis and Little League venues in Pawnee.
But at last, once Chris finally said, oh so cheerfully, after checking with them a million times if they wanted some wheatgrass juice (no) or a massage (ohgodno), that he was going to turn in, they just sat there. Pretending to watch television. In Ben's case, he couldn't have told you what was on if you'd asked him while his eyes were on the screen. Leslie was watching and paying some attention (for the record, it was a History Channel documentary on the industrial war effort in World War II, which she'd requested they watch not because she was really interested, but because the conversation was - literally - killing her), but in a very distracted way, where everything they showed made her think of something else, as her mind flitted through all manner of randomness to distract her from the situation she was actually in.
Which, apparently, was that she was finally alone again with Ben. It did take a little while for that to sink in. It was such an effort to pretend that everything was normal while Chris was around, that both of them had to take a few minutes to just breathe and sit and be there before they could fully take his absence into account. And fully realize the presence of just each other. Leslie folded her legs under her on the couch. Ben uncrossed his arms and relaxed his shoulders a bit. They didn't look directly at each other. They could feel each other's movements, and hear each other breathe. They were aware of each other in their peripheral vision. They were conscious that they had both been silent since they were left alone. Increasingly conscious.
Leslie gave a little sigh, which took her by surprise when she realized it was audible.
Ben spoke first. "This is weird." They looked at each other then, and it was almost like the last two hours hadn't happened at all. It was such a relief that he was honest, so Leslie laughed a little. "We're on Chris' couch." "Yup, we are, and I'm wearing his clothes." They both laughed a little, lightly, not really nervously. He's got the sexiest voice. Stop it. Wait, do I still have to stop it now? "Um, well," said Leslie, turning towards him and putting her chin in her hand. "Well," said Ben, doing the same.
Well. That's a word you use when you're about to say something else. But neither of them went on to say anything. Leslie thought she'd never seen him so relaxed, so happy. She wanted him to look like this all the time, why doesn't he look like this all the time? She knew she'd made him happy by telling him no, it wasn't just him, god, they'd waited so long to say these things to each other, and now what? Who cared, she just wanted to look at him smile like this for another moment.
Ben realized he was holding his breath. He dropped his hand from his chin, fidgeting a bit. He was dying to kiss her. That's all he could think. It's not even fair to say he was thinking about kissing her - he just had this thought, of kissing her, and that's where it stopped. He wasn't thinking about anything beyond or around or beside kissing her. Not sex, not really even touching her while he was kissing her, not what would happen after he kissed her. Just her lips on his, that was it, that was the entire content of his head.
Leslie wasn't even that coherent. She was just feeling warm. She could feel herself slip into giddiness, as she got more... not anxious, exactly, she really felt pretty calm, especially considering. Just a bit lightheaded and lost, gazing at Ben.
His hand reached out and touched her elbow, just holding it with his fingers lightly, really, it was almost an automatic thing, what else could he do with his hand, just let it hang there? No, no, clearly not. Leslie straightened her arm so her hand reached his shoulder. They didn't break their gaze into each other's eyes.
And of course, what could Ben do then but kiss her? She was right there. Turns out, even though he hadn't actually thought beyond just the kiss, he did in fact do other things that went along with kissing her - at least, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her head, pulling her towards him gently, her hair threading itself around his fingers. Leslie did the same, moving her hand to his neck, brushing her thumb against his jaw. It was warm, and full; a serious kiss. It was everything Ben had imagined, and he could feel himself relax into it, into her, into this moment. Leslie let herself sigh again, into the kiss. She didn't feel lightheaded any more - she felt as if she'd been underwater and this was her precious breath of air.
After a long moment, or three, their lips pulled apart, and they leaned their heads, against each other's hands, along the back of the couch, and grinned. They were just far enough away from each other to be able to look at each other without going cross-eyed. Their other hands hadn't moved from their own laps, but their knees were touching now, since they'd moved towards each other just a bit. They weren't all tangled up in each other, but it wasn't at all tentative, it was just perfect.
Ben closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and then opened them again to look at her. She was still smiling. Leslie looked down and away for a moment, clearing her throat in a way that sounded more like a hum, and looked back at him with a grin. "I kinda just had to do that," said Ben. "Mm-hum," said Leslie, grinning a bit wider, and then her smile faded a little. "I think that's all we should do, though, at least..." she went on to say, but he finished "... for now, yeah, that's probably a good idea..." "Yeah." "Yeah." "OK." "Right." "Mm."
A beat. They are still looking, but both of their smiles have faded. They both inhale, and forget to exhale.
Then, quickly, Ben reached his other hand up to her face, and leaned in for another kiss, a passionate, fierce kiss. Leslie brought her other hand up around his shoulders and pulled him closer, and they were pressed against each other, just for a moment, pulling more of their bodies together, kissing each other more deeply, intensely, Ben angling his head against hers, his forearm pressing into her chest, her wrapping her arm around his back -
And then, suddenly, they let each other go, both turned so they were facing the television again, sitting just far enough apart so they weren't touching, although close enough that... well, close enough. They were both breathing a little bit hard. Not quite gasping, but... well, close enough.
"Um." "Yeah."
A moment.
Leslie turned her head to take a peek at Ben, and saw that he had a huge grin on his face, which made her start to giggle. Which of course made him start to laugh, too, as he turned to look at her.
"Oh my god." "I know."
Their laughter settled down a bit, and they turned again to look at each other, heads back on their own hands, but, this time, knees touching, just barely. Leslie took a deep breath. "What are we going to do?" she asked, waving her free hand a bit to gesture that she meant her question in a broader sense than right that second."Well, I don't think we're going to decide much tonight, not here," said Ben, chuckling a little, ruefully.
"We could just sneak out and drive back to Pawnee, tell Chris that something... something came up? Some kind of Little League emergency?" Leslie offered. Ben just looked at her, eyebrows raised. "OK, yeah, no, right."
"Look," Ben began. "Let's just get through this, the rest of this trip, and get back to Pawnee, and then we can, we can, um, I don't know, talk?" He started to smile more broadly partway through the sentence, and Leslie was starting to grin, too. "Yeah, OK, that sounds good." "What are you doing tomorrow night, uh, evening?" Ben asked, looking away, a touch embarrassed, and then back at Leslie again. He couldn't quite find a way to invite himself over to her place, but of course that's what needed to happen, what else could happen, god, I am not really all that suave, am I, it's a wonder any of this ever happened.... And then he was a bit distracted by the idea of being alone with Leslie at her house, and his hand was reaching out to her hand on her own knee, and their fingers intertwined, and he was holding his breath again...
"I don't know, tomorrow, let me think..." she was teasing him, turning her fingers over in his just a little and he thought thank god, she's teasing me, I couldn't stand it if she stopped teasing me. "Oh, right, tomorrow I was thinking maybe you'd come over and we could watch some documentaries on the History Channel?" She grinned a little wider, tipping her head towards the television as she said it. And he had a vision of them at Leslie's place (what does her place look like?), on her couch, just the two of them, and she's smiling at him like that, and he's going to kiss her again, on this couch, Chris' couch, which...
He took a sharp breath, and sat up straight, letting go of her hand. "Yeah, that's a great idea, but, um, right now, sorry, I, uh..." and he slapped his hands adamantly on his own knees, which were now squarely straight ahead, as his feet were on the ground, firmly.
It reminded Leslie of that time when she asked him to dinner, just before she tried internet dating for, like, five disastrous minutes. Now she gets it. She decides to help him out, this time, she can be a mature grownup with patience, now that she knows how he feels. And how he feels is awesome. Stop. It. "OK, yeah, this is nuts, we're, this is, no, not. I'll just, yeah, I'm going to go to bed now. I mean, the other room."
"OK." He turned to look at her, gives her a crooked smile. He hated that idea. But what else could they do? She had to go to bed. In the other room. God, she's fucking luminous, just look at her, look at those eyes. Jesus, stop it!
"Goodnight," she said, trying to sound decisive, and cheerful, failing.
"Goodnight." Ben turned to look at the floor, took a deep breath.
She doesn't move. Come on, Leslie, get up! It's easy, just get up and walk away. You can do it! It was like her butt was rooted to the couch.
"Leslie?" He turned to look at her again.
"Yeah?"
"You OK?" He smiled, like he gets the joke, like he'd laugh, given the right provocation. It's so desperately attractive, this is not helping.
"Yeah. Just..." she smiled in his direction, not quite looking directly at him. "Yeah, OK, here I go."
She forced herself up all at once, and, to her surprise, Ben stood up, too. He didn't get in her way, though; he stepped forward past the coffee table, and gestured for her to move ahead. She did, and half-turned to look at him, a little confused. He leaned down and put his hands gently on the sides of her throat, his thumbs on her cheeks, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, lightly, and then said, very quietly, "Go get some sleep." "OK," she murmured, "you too."
Leslie had grasped his biceps, and so they slid their hands down each other's arms, until they gave each other's hands a decisive squeeze, and then let go.
"I'll see you tomorrow." "Uh-huh." She beamed at him. He gave her a half-smile, looked down, looked back at her. She stepped away.
She walked to the bedroom, and turned to take a look back when she gets there. He was standing where she left him, arms crossed, watching her, waiting. She went inside and closed the door behind her. Very quietly, very professionally.
Ben sank down on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He was grinning, though. He looked up at the television. History Channel documentaries, huh?
Leslie flopped down onto her bed and groaned, and then chuckled to herself. She reached for her phone, to text Ann, but just held it in her hand. What on earth would I say? It's OK, we're going to watch History Channel documentaries?