Five Times Ben Made Leslie's Dreams Come True
Rating: R?
Timeline: All over the place!
Summary: For the fic prompt: 5 times Ben literally made Leslie's dreams come true - other than giving her her dream opening line for the City Council speech, making Yachter Otter and helping her become Governor.
I.
When she was little, Leslie wanted to be governor of Indiana.
She dreamed about it, wrote it out in her kindergarten dream journal and everything. When she was a bit older, she imagined that Mr. Belevedere would be her campaign manager but also her boyfriend, and they would get married after she won the election and have two dogs, a cat, and a hamster in the governor’s mansion. They would eat waffles and chocolate bars for dinner every night and take vacations to London every year to visit his family.
When they had kids, he would stay home and watch them since he already had a background in butlering and advising three awkward children from his days working for the Owens family.
Oh and there would be tea and cookies every afternoon-but mostly cookies.
But tonight (really, this morning) when they get back to Ben’s house and after just winning a seat on the Pawnee City Council, Leslie can’t help but think that the reality is even better than her old childhood dream.
“We did it,” she tells him, after slipping offer her shoes and crawling up the length of his bed to lie against Ben, where he’s practically passed out, face down, still dressed in his suit.
Ben turns his head to the side and smiles, eyes still closed. “You did it.”
“We did it,” Leslie repeats, moving in to give him a kiss.
“Yay,” Ben mumbles against her lips, still smiling, but making no effort to move. “I’m drunk,” he adds after a few seconds.
“I know,” Leslie agrees, laughing. “Your low tolerance is very, very cute.”
After her victory speech in the Jermaine Jackson Ballroom at the Pawnee SuperSuites, there had been champagne and beer and gin and tonics, and heartfelt toasts, and laughter, and possibly Tom passing out on a table. But before the passing out and the calling of cabs, (“You’re a cab,” Ron had said stoically, before dissolving into giggles), there were also lots of hugs with her winning campaign team-the best friends in the whole world.
She should really try to get his pants off and get out of her own clothes but Leslie’s just too tired and a little tipsy herself to do much more than snuggle against him. Run a hand down his back and pat her palm against his perfect Ben-butt.
That prompts him to start laughing, before he says, “Ron gave me another whiskey to try and I didn’t spit it out the second time and now the bed is moving. I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to continue to drink like a rich woman on a diet. Is that okay?”
“That’s okay,” she answers, closing her eyes and snuggling her face against Ben’s pillow.
Sure, they still have to deal with him leaving for DC in a few days but right now, Leslie doesn’t want to think about that-can’t think about that or she’ll cry. She just wants to smile and be happy and buzzed, and fall asleep next to her amazing boyfriend and campaign manager after winning her first election.
But there is one thing she’s a little curious about, just in case she ever wants to do a little British butler roleplay, so she asks, “Do you think you could do a British accent?”
Ben just snores in response.
II.
“I can’t believe you arranged everything,” she tells him, as Leslie walks into their amazing getaway suite.
Just last week she had mentioned how she wished they could take some time before the babies’ impending birth and spend it somewhere just the two of them-no work, no laptops, no emails. Maybe back to Paris. Or London. Or even return to San Francisco and just eat and cuddle and take naps in some super fancy and over-priced hotel room by the Wharf.
Of course, in her current six-month pregnant state, extended travel was not a realistic option, but luckily the Grandville Hotel and Spa was only about a thirty-minute drive from Pawnee-a trip that only required one whiz palace stop along the way.
“Well,” Ben grins at her. “I did. Let me give you the tour. We have a separate sitting room, a king-size bed covered in chocolate kisses-”
“Mmmmm,” Leslie interjects. “You know me so well.”
He smiles before continuing, “I do. A private balcony and a full room service menu. And now, if you’ll follow me, I can show you the best part…” He says, taking her arm and leading her a few feet away. “Here in the deluxe spa-style bathroom, there’s a walk-in marble shower, an extra deep soaking tub for two, well, for five,” Ben amends, “extra bathmats-”
“Lamb mats!” Leslie tells him excitedly.
“Yes. Two lamb mats on the floor and a whole stack of extra soft towels. Also, we will be taking some of those home with us.” Sure, Ben knows the hotel will probably charge him some ridiculous amount for each stolen towel, but what the hell.
Sometimes you just have to say screw it.
“This is so sweet and babe, I love you a ridiculous amount for this arranging this awesome pre-babies weekend, but I have a confession,” she tells him guiltily, her hand moving down to rest on her heavily extended belly.
“What?”
“I brought my laptop.”
Ben grins at her. “Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I brought mine too.”
III.
“Okay, keep your eyes closed.”
“My eyes are closed. Because your hands are over my eyes, babe,” she responds, smiling and laughing as Ben leads her into the babies’ room.
“Are you ready?’
“Yes.”
“No. I asked...Are. You. Ready?”
“Yes,” she repeats, more enthusiastically this time.
He pulls his fingers away and Leslie grins before bursting out in laughter.
All three seven month-olds are sitting together in one crib, wearing little black Supreme Court justice looking robes. And maybe Sonia is making a scrunched up face like she might be pooping, but still, they all look so wise and beautiful. Yep. they are definitely raising one third of the Supreme Court here.
Leslie gets out her phone and takes a picture.
“You should wait until she’s done doing-”
“Why? It’s adorable when she makes that face.”
“Alright,” Ben answers, laughing.
After she gets about five shots, Leslie puts her phone away and looks at Ben. “How did you-”
“It turns out that the lady at the stuffed animal store will make you little black baby robes if you pay her enough.”
“And it’s just like my dream last week,” she exclaims, leaning down into the crib to cuddle Stephen. “Are you the cutest and youngest Supreme Court justice in history?” Leslie asks her son, now safely snuggled in her arms. “Yes you are. Well, aside from your brother and sister who are your equal in both cuteness and intellect.”
Ben reaches in and gently picks Sonia up, just as she starts crying and carries her over to the changing table.
Then he says, “And before you wonder about accessories, I did not give them little baby-sized gavels because that just seemed really dangerous.”
IV.
“So, I know last time I tried to surprise you like this, it made you cry, but I’m sort of hoping for a different response this time.”
“What?” Leslie looks up from her binder project to see Ben walking into the living room of their Washington place with a large white box. Thankfully, all the kids are at friends’ houses, so whatever dessert he has, she doesn’t have to share.
She recognizes the large box from g'eclaire, one of her Top 20 Favorite Bakeries in DC-it would be higher on her list but they use weird ingredients like yuzu (yu-what?) and green tea in some of their baked goods.
None the less, Leslie’s eyes widen in interest. “Eclairs?”
Ben smiles seductively and nods, opens the box to reveal the word LESLIE spelled out in French pastries. “And before you get worried, they’re the plain chocolate kind you like. Nothing weird.”
She kind of rushes over to him, but actually stops short of jumping him and smooshing all of the vanilla pastry cream-filled treats in her impatience to show her appreciation. “But. Babe. Right there,” she points into the box. “That last E looks like-”
“Okay, well, I thought maybe you would let me eat one of your E’s. So that one is a miso-caramel one for me to try. But, it’s just one little eclair in a whole box full of your favorite chocolate eclairs.”
“Oh really?” She teases, taking the box from him and putting it on the table.
“Yes. It’s like the Unity Quilt Joe Biden of pastries.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm…maybe I will try a bite,” Leslie responds, smiling and raising her eyebrow at him.
“Pervert.”
V.
When Ben walks back towards the bed, naked and grinning, after disposing of the condom, Leslie almost has to pinch herself. As it is she starts giggling even before he lies back down next to her.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, snuggling against her.
“You. This,” she says. “I mean, you’re in my bedroom naked. I mean, it’s not funny funny, but just, oh my god, if you knew how many times I imagined this, funny.”
But also, Ben in her bedroom without his usual plaid shirt and skinny tie, or even underwear on, is a little amusing because, let’s face it, penises are kind of cute and funny when they’re just hanging there and not doing sexy things.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I imagined seeing you naked more.”
His words go straight to her belly, making her feel all warm and tingly, but also his statement makes her so incredibly happy.
Why did she try so hard to not seduce him on the trip to Indianapolis? Why did she ever write that script for Ann to read to her?
Honestly, if she could do it again, she would probably have Ann tell her, “Leslie, it’s Leslie Knope from the Parks Department speaking to you through Ann Perkins, friend and beautiful nurse. Definitely make out and do naked things with Ben. He is awesome at it and you will have an amazing orgasm!”
“I’ve had sex dreams about you,” she confesses.
“Me too. About you,” Ben says, before moving in to kiss her again.
“This was much better,” she says smiling.
Ben nods in agreement before going in for another kiss, but they’re both grinning and his lips first kiss her teeth, which makes her laugh even more.
They continue to nuzzle and kiss but then she remembers why she tried not to do this. And it’s not a bucket of cold water on the current situation, but it is a concern.
“But what about our jobs?”
“We’ll be careful,” he tells her, and then starts kissing a trail down her neck and her stomach, his fingers already working their way between her thighs again. “But right now, there’s something else that I really want to do. That I’ve dreamed about doing a lot.”
Timeline: All over the place!
Summary: For the fic prompt: 5 times Ben literally made Leslie's dreams come true - other than giving her her dream opening line for the City Council speech, making Yachter Otter and helping her become Governor.
I.
When she was little, Leslie wanted to be governor of Indiana.
She dreamed about it, wrote it out in her kindergarten dream journal and everything. When she was a bit older, she imagined that Mr. Belevedere would be her campaign manager but also her boyfriend, and they would get married after she won the election and have two dogs, a cat, and a hamster in the governor’s mansion. They would eat waffles and chocolate bars for dinner every night and take vacations to London every year to visit his family.
When they had kids, he would stay home and watch them since he already had a background in butlering and advising three awkward children from his days working for the Owens family.
Oh and there would be tea and cookies every afternoon-but mostly cookies.
But tonight (really, this morning) when they get back to Ben’s house and after just winning a seat on the Pawnee City Council, Leslie can’t help but think that the reality is even better than her old childhood dream.
“We did it,” she tells him, after slipping offer her shoes and crawling up the length of his bed to lie against Ben, where he’s practically passed out, face down, still dressed in his suit.
Ben turns his head to the side and smiles, eyes still closed. “You did it.”
“We did it,” Leslie repeats, moving in to give him a kiss.
“Yay,” Ben mumbles against her lips, still smiling, but making no effort to move. “I’m drunk,” he adds after a few seconds.
“I know,” Leslie agrees, laughing. “Your low tolerance is very, very cute.”
After her victory speech in the Jermaine Jackson Ballroom at the Pawnee SuperSuites, there had been champagne and beer and gin and tonics, and heartfelt toasts, and laughter, and possibly Tom passing out on a table. But before the passing out and the calling of cabs, (“You’re a cab,” Ron had said stoically, before dissolving into giggles), there were also lots of hugs with her winning campaign team-the best friends in the whole world.
She should really try to get his pants off and get out of her own clothes but Leslie’s just too tired and a little tipsy herself to do much more than snuggle against him. Run a hand down his back and pat her palm against his perfect Ben-butt.
That prompts him to start laughing, before he says, “Ron gave me another whiskey to try and I didn’t spit it out the second time and now the bed is moving. I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to continue to drink like a rich woman on a diet. Is that okay?”
“That’s okay,” she answers, closing her eyes and snuggling her face against Ben’s pillow.
Sure, they still have to deal with him leaving for DC in a few days but right now, Leslie doesn’t want to think about that-can’t think about that or she’ll cry. She just wants to smile and be happy and buzzed, and fall asleep next to her amazing boyfriend and campaign manager after winning her first election.
But there is one thing she’s a little curious about, just in case she ever wants to do a little British butler roleplay, so she asks, “Do you think you could do a British accent?”
Ben just snores in response.
II.
“I can’t believe you arranged everything,” she tells him, as Leslie walks into their amazing getaway suite.
Just last week she had mentioned how she wished they could take some time before the babies’ impending birth and spend it somewhere just the two of them-no work, no laptops, no emails. Maybe back to Paris. Or London. Or even return to San Francisco and just eat and cuddle and take naps in some super fancy and over-priced hotel room by the Wharf.
Of course, in her current six-month pregnant state, extended travel was not a realistic option, but luckily the Grandville Hotel and Spa was only about a thirty-minute drive from Pawnee-a trip that only required one whiz palace stop along the way.
“Well,” Ben grins at her. “I did. Let me give you the tour. We have a separate sitting room, a king-size bed covered in chocolate kisses-”
“Mmmmm,” Leslie interjects. “You know me so well.”
He smiles before continuing, “I do. A private balcony and a full room service menu. And now, if you’ll follow me, I can show you the best part…” He says, taking her arm and leading her a few feet away. “Here in the deluxe spa-style bathroom, there’s a walk-in marble shower, an extra deep soaking tub for two, well, for five,” Ben amends, “extra bathmats-”
“Lamb mats!” Leslie tells him excitedly.
“Yes. Two lamb mats on the floor and a whole stack of extra soft towels. Also, we will be taking some of those home with us.” Sure, Ben knows the hotel will probably charge him some ridiculous amount for each stolen towel, but what the hell.
Sometimes you just have to say screw it.
“This is so sweet and babe, I love you a ridiculous amount for this arranging this awesome pre-babies weekend, but I have a confession,” she tells him guiltily, her hand moving down to rest on her heavily extended belly.
“What?”
“I brought my laptop.”
Ben grins at her. “Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I brought mine too.”
III.
“Okay, keep your eyes closed.”
“My eyes are closed. Because your hands are over my eyes, babe,” she responds, smiling and laughing as Ben leads her into the babies’ room.
“Are you ready?’
“Yes.”
“No. I asked...Are. You. Ready?”
“Yes,” she repeats, more enthusiastically this time.
He pulls his fingers away and Leslie grins before bursting out in laughter.
All three seven month-olds are sitting together in one crib, wearing little black Supreme Court justice looking robes. And maybe Sonia is making a scrunched up face like she might be pooping, but still, they all look so wise and beautiful. Yep. they are definitely raising one third of the Supreme Court here.
Leslie gets out her phone and takes a picture.
“You should wait until she’s done doing-”
“Why? It’s adorable when she makes that face.”
“Alright,” Ben answers, laughing.
After she gets about five shots, Leslie puts her phone away and looks at Ben. “How did you-”
“It turns out that the lady at the stuffed animal store will make you little black baby robes if you pay her enough.”
“And it’s just like my dream last week,” she exclaims, leaning down into the crib to cuddle Stephen. “Are you the cutest and youngest Supreme Court justice in history?” Leslie asks her son, now safely snuggled in her arms. “Yes you are. Well, aside from your brother and sister who are your equal in both cuteness and intellect.”
Ben reaches in and gently picks Sonia up, just as she starts crying and carries her over to the changing table.
Then he says, “And before you wonder about accessories, I did not give them little baby-sized gavels because that just seemed really dangerous.”
IV.
“So, I know last time I tried to surprise you like this, it made you cry, but I’m sort of hoping for a different response this time.”
“What?” Leslie looks up from her binder project to see Ben walking into the living room of their Washington place with a large white box. Thankfully, all the kids are at friends’ houses, so whatever dessert he has, she doesn’t have to share.
She recognizes the large box from g'eclaire, one of her Top 20 Favorite Bakeries in DC-it would be higher on her list but they use weird ingredients like yuzu (yu-what?) and green tea in some of their baked goods.
None the less, Leslie’s eyes widen in interest. “Eclairs?”
Ben smiles seductively and nods, opens the box to reveal the word LESLIE spelled out in French pastries. “And before you get worried, they’re the plain chocolate kind you like. Nothing weird.”
She kind of rushes over to him, but actually stops short of jumping him and smooshing all of the vanilla pastry cream-filled treats in her impatience to show her appreciation. “But. Babe. Right there,” she points into the box. “That last E looks like-”
“Okay, well, I thought maybe you would let me eat one of your E’s. So that one is a miso-caramel one for me to try. But, it’s just one little eclair in a whole box full of your favorite chocolate eclairs.”
“Oh really?” She teases, taking the box from him and putting it on the table.
“Yes. It’s like the Unity Quilt Joe Biden of pastries.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm…maybe I will try a bite,” Leslie responds, smiling and raising her eyebrow at him.
“Pervert.”
V.
When Ben walks back towards the bed, naked and grinning, after disposing of the condom, Leslie almost has to pinch herself. As it is she starts giggling even before he lies back down next to her.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, snuggling against her.
“You. This,” she says. “I mean, you’re in my bedroom naked. I mean, it’s not funny funny, but just, oh my god, if you knew how many times I imagined this, funny.”
But also, Ben in her bedroom without his usual plaid shirt and skinny tie, or even underwear on, is a little amusing because, let’s face it, penises are kind of cute and funny when they’re just hanging there and not doing sexy things.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I imagined seeing you naked more.”
His words go straight to her belly, making her feel all warm and tingly, but also his statement makes her so incredibly happy.
Why did she try so hard to not seduce him on the trip to Indianapolis? Why did she ever write that script for Ann to read to her?
Honestly, if she could do it again, she would probably have Ann tell her, “Leslie, it’s Leslie Knope from the Parks Department speaking to you through Ann Perkins, friend and beautiful nurse. Definitely make out and do naked things with Ben. He is awesome at it and you will have an amazing orgasm!”
“I’ve had sex dreams about you,” she confesses.
“Me too. About you,” Ben says, before moving in to kiss her again.
“This was much better,” she says smiling.
Ben nods in agreement before going in for another kiss, but they’re both grinning and his lips first kiss her teeth, which makes her laugh even more.
They continue to nuzzle and kiss but then she remembers why she tried not to do this. And it’s not a bucket of cold water on the current situation, but it is a concern.
“But what about our jobs?”
“We’ll be careful,” he tells her, and then starts kissing a trail down her neck and her stomach, his fingers already working their way between her thighs again. “But right now, there’s something else that I really want to do. That I’ve dreamed about doing a lot.”