fic: "lot 48"
title: Lot 48
author: shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben (& some Leslie-Ann friendship)
rating: G
words: 724
notes: This is a completely different 'verse than my long fic, Start a War. I did this as a quick one-shot on tumblr to sort of exercise my writing when I was having trouble getting other stuff going. I separately got the prompts "park bench", "picnic table", and picnic basket" and combined them. Thought you guys might like it on here.
I. Park Bench
In the middle of summer, Leslie makes a show of placing a new park bench on Lot 48.
It’s varnished an enjoyable light tan, with knobbly branches as arm rests and a plaque that says “Pawnee Parks Department” on the back. It only took Ron a week to build and a day to put on a new mound of earth on the lot, the day Leslie announces to Pawnee that she’s going to be running for mayor.
“I’m proud to have brought this lot from a pit to the beginnings of a park,” she declares, standing behind a makeshift podium in the center of the lot, “And I hope to share the journey from deputy director of the parks department to mayor with all of you. Let’s make Pawnee a better place!”
When the camera crews and crowd clears as the sun sets, Leslie sees Ben waiting for her on the bench. She takes his offered hand under the cover of night, nestling into his side.
They sit together until nearly midnight, when Leslie takes a deep breath, squeezes his hand, and quietly breaks up with him.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers through tears she won’t let fall. He nods, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
When he leaves, she stays there another hour before Ann comes out and finds her. It’s time to keep going.
II. Picnic Table
Two weeks before election day, Leslie leads a group from the woodworking class at William Percy High to build a new picnic table to add to the lot.
Barnes had suggested something grander, something more concrete to keep her active in voters’ minds. But she still wanted this park, and more than anything she wanted to continue being part of the community. What is a leader that doesn’t interact with the citizens?
It’s not the strongest or prettiest of tables, with a poorly sandpapered top and mismatched benches, but it’s a step.
“I could have done better,” Ron states as the parks department squeezes in tight for an afternoon lunch the next day (Jerry had to bring his own lawn chair). But he says it with an air of affection, and looks at Leslie with pride.
As it turns out, Tom invited Ben without telling her. And because things were sailing a little too smoothly, things don’t go well.
“I didn’t ask for all of this,” Leslie spits out too harshly, Ben the only one to stay behind once the meal had finished. “I didn’t go looking to be mayor or looking for you.”
“So it’s my fault, of course,” he says with a bite of sarcasm.
The outburst doesn’t last long and is eventually regretted. He mumbles an apology they both know he shouldn’t owe her, walks to his car before she has a chance to rightfully reciprocate.
She knocks on Ann’s door so hard, she feels like her fist will fall off. She doesn’t know where else to go.
III. Picnic Basket
A month after she loses, she sits on a blanket at the lot at dawn, a picnic basket at her side.
It’s a little chilly and she pulls her jacket around her chest, shifting so her legs fold beneath her. The sky is a vibrant pink and orange and she watches the lofty purple clouds pass by in the slow breeze.
It still isn’t a park, but that’s okay. There’s still time. There are other things with possible expiration dates for her to worry about.
Just before the sky takes on a cloudy blue look for the day, she hears his car pull up. He takes a seat next to her, politely offers her his jacket as extra warmth (she declines), laughs when she pulls take-out boxes and a thermos of coffee out of the basket.
“I’m really glad you came,” she tells him, once her stomach is full of whipped cream and his eyes start to look more alert.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to,” he admits, shrugging self-consciously. “But in the end …”
And they smile because she understands; she doesn’t need anything more. And it’s not the same, nothing is instant, but the patch is being sewn on and there’s the feeling of possibility.
She looks over to Ann’s to see her friend peeking through her blinds before going back to her morning with a grin.
author: shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben (& some Leslie-Ann friendship)
rating: G
words: 724
notes: This is a completely different 'verse than my long fic, Start a War. I did this as a quick one-shot on tumblr to sort of exercise my writing when I was having trouble getting other stuff going. I separately got the prompts "park bench", "picnic table", and picnic basket" and combined them. Thought you guys might like it on here.
I. Park Bench
In the middle of summer, Leslie makes a show of placing a new park bench on Lot 48.
It’s varnished an enjoyable light tan, with knobbly branches as arm rests and a plaque that says “Pawnee Parks Department” on the back. It only took Ron a week to build and a day to put on a new mound of earth on the lot, the day Leslie announces to Pawnee that she’s going to be running for mayor.
“I’m proud to have brought this lot from a pit to the beginnings of a park,” she declares, standing behind a makeshift podium in the center of the lot, “And I hope to share the journey from deputy director of the parks department to mayor with all of you. Let’s make Pawnee a better place!”
When the camera crews and crowd clears as the sun sets, Leslie sees Ben waiting for her on the bench. She takes his offered hand under the cover of night, nestling into his side.
They sit together until nearly midnight, when Leslie takes a deep breath, squeezes his hand, and quietly breaks up with him.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers through tears she won’t let fall. He nods, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
When he leaves, she stays there another hour before Ann comes out and finds her. It’s time to keep going.
II. Picnic Table
Two weeks before election day, Leslie leads a group from the woodworking class at William Percy High to build a new picnic table to add to the lot.
Barnes had suggested something grander, something more concrete to keep her active in voters’ minds. But she still wanted this park, and more than anything she wanted to continue being part of the community. What is a leader that doesn’t interact with the citizens?
It’s not the strongest or prettiest of tables, with a poorly sandpapered top and mismatched benches, but it’s a step.
“I could have done better,” Ron states as the parks department squeezes in tight for an afternoon lunch the next day (Jerry had to bring his own lawn chair). But he says it with an air of affection, and looks at Leslie with pride.
As it turns out, Tom invited Ben without telling her. And because things were sailing a little too smoothly, things don’t go well.
“I didn’t ask for all of this,” Leslie spits out too harshly, Ben the only one to stay behind once the meal had finished. “I didn’t go looking to be mayor or looking for you.”
“So it’s my fault, of course,” he says with a bite of sarcasm.
The outburst doesn’t last long and is eventually regretted. He mumbles an apology they both know he shouldn’t owe her, walks to his car before she has a chance to rightfully reciprocate.
She knocks on Ann’s door so hard, she feels like her fist will fall off. She doesn’t know where else to go.
III. Picnic Basket
A month after she loses, she sits on a blanket at the lot at dawn, a picnic basket at her side.
It’s a little chilly and she pulls her jacket around her chest, shifting so her legs fold beneath her. The sky is a vibrant pink and orange and she watches the lofty purple clouds pass by in the slow breeze.
It still isn’t a park, but that’s okay. There’s still time. There are other things with possible expiration dates for her to worry about.
Just before the sky takes on a cloudy blue look for the day, she hears his car pull up. He takes a seat next to her, politely offers her his jacket as extra warmth (she declines), laughs when she pulls take-out boxes and a thermos of coffee out of the basket.
“I’m really glad you came,” she tells him, once her stomach is full of whipped cream and his eyes start to look more alert.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to,” he admits, shrugging self-consciously. “But in the end …”
And they smile because she understands; she doesn’t need anything more. And it’s not the same, nothing is instant, but the patch is being sewn on and there’s the feeling of possibility.
She looks over to Ann’s to see her friend peeking through her blinds before going back to her morning with a grin.