Fic: A Tour of Pawnee

[rikyl]

Title: A Tour of Pawnee
Word Count: ~9,900
Spoilers: The Master Plan (seriously, I'm going that far back)
Rating: Hard R, I guess? It takes a long time to get there though.
Summary: An answer to this kinkmeme prompt: "Leslie meets Ben at a bar the first night he gets into town. Somehow work never comes up, and they end up sleeping together. Please include a follow-up scene of what happens when Chris and Ben show up in her department the next day to slash & burn." Obviously I got a little carried away with the "somehow" ...



“Could you possibly, I don’t know, change just one tv over to the NHL playoffs?” Ben tried asking the bartender again. “It is Game 7. It’s kind of a big deal.”

The television in his new room at the Pawnee Super Suites had just six channels, half of them local access, and the wireless internet he’d paid extra for kept cutting out, so Ben had gone out in search of a bar. But not knowing his way around yet, he’d ended up here, at this place called the Snakehole Lounge, which had more than a dozen screens, all showing music videos or runway shows.

The bartender glowered at him like the very idea of hockey offended him. “This isn’t a sports bar, dude.”

“Sorry, I’m not from around here,” Ben said. Frowning into his beer, he contemplated protesting more or leaving or just sitting here and drinking, which was probably honestly what he’d end up doing. But seriously. There were at least twelve tvs in this place. Couldn’t they just-

“Why, where are you from?” a friendly female voice asked, and Ben glanced up in time to see a pretty blonde woman slide onto the stool next to him.

“Oh, um … Minnesota.” Why did he just say that? He hadn’t lived in Minnesota for sixteen years. “Originally. Indianapolis now. Sort of. I travel a lot for work.”

“How long are you here for?” she inquired pleasantly.

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “Long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes?”

Did people in this town just walk up to strangers and start asking questions?

“Um …. who are you again?”

“I’m Leslie.”

She smiled at him expectantly, and he suddenly realized he should reciprocate. “Oh, hi. Ben. I’m Ben.”

“Well, Ben, you are going to love Pawnee. It is the greatest city in Indiana, probably in the country, possibly in the world.”

Ben laughed skeptically. “Is it now?” So far Pawnee hadn’t exactly blown him away, but he supposed Super Suites and the Snakehole Lounge might not be representative of the entire town.

“It is. Definitely.” She nodded decisively, almost comically serious. It was cute.

“Okay,” Ben played along. “Well, then I look forward to getting to know Pawnee.” He was looking at her, and when he said the words, he realized it came out sounding like he wanted to get to know her. Oh god. Was he flirting with her? Had she been flirting with him? He cleared his throat. “So … Leslie … what are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, Ann and I ... well, Ann had to go home. But we were celebrating.” She hooked a thumb toward herself, grinning. “Because I. Finished. My master plan.”

“Your master plan.” Seriously, who was this woman?

“That’s what I said. You heard me right. My master plan.”

“Your master plan for … what, for, world domination?”

“Sure. For starters.” She smiled in such a confident way that he was actually convinced for a moment-she was going to take over the world, and then … keep going.

Sitting up straighter on the barstool, the woman started gesturing dramatically like she was giving a speech. “So I say the function of man is to live, not to exist. I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.”

Ben stared at her for a moment, trying to place the quote. “Jack London?”

Her blue eyes twinkled at him, impressed.

“Well, that sounds great,” he said, unsure anymore what they were talking about. Better to just go with the flow. “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

She clinked her beer against his, then narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. “What about you? Do you have it all figured out?”

Ben laughed, rolling his eyes. “Not even close. I can’t even get a hockey score tonight.”

“That sounds terrible.” She smiled at him sympathetically, and for a moment he thought she might have a lead on an actual sports bar. Then her face lit up. “You know what you need?”

“A tv with Versus?”

Leslie shook her head, looking momentarily baffled by the suggestion. “No.” She leaned in closer, and Ben noticed she smelled nice. Sweet … but not like flowers, like … syrup? “A tour of Pawnee,” she announced, as if it was the greatest idea anyone had ever had.

“A tour of Pawnee,” he echoed doubtfully.

“I could give you one. I know all the best places. I am the best tour guide you could possibly ask for.” She poked her finger into his chest. “You, sir, are lucky I sat down next to you.”

He looked down at her finger, which lingered against his shirt for a moment, then back up at her. It was crazy, he didn’t know this woman, but something in him suddenly believed that to be true. So without really thinking it through or asking any follow-up questions about what he was signing up for, he just agreed. “Okay.” Then his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said.

She looked slightly thrown too, but quickly embraced the idea. “Okay? Yeah? Yeah! Let’s do this! … Ben.” There was a trace of wavery uncertainty in her voice when she said his name, like she was just remembering that they didn’t actually know each other.

An awkward moment passed in which neither one of them made a move to go anywhere immediately, and he drained his beer nervously. She was obviously already tipsy, and he didn’t know what was supposed to be happening. “So … do you want to exchange phone numbers? Meet after work tomorrow?” he asked tentatively.

That actually could be nice. Chris was usually the one with the women offering to show him around in every town. Maybe Ben could offer to buy her dinner, really get to know her, and …

“Why wait?” Leslie was already insisting, though. “It’s only 9. The raccoons won’t come out for another two hours.”

“Oh, well then. That’s plenty of time.” Raccoons? “Um … so … where are we going?”

Leslie hopped down from the bar stool, and Ben noticed for the first time how tiny she was. And pretty. She was really pretty. “Follow me! I’m the tour guide.”

He hesitated, staring at her, wondering what he was doing. But … it wasn’t like he had anything else to do tonight. “Okay. Lead the way.”

On the sidewalk outside, Leslie paused and gestured grandly at the building they had just come out of. “This … is the Snakehole Lounge. My friend owns it, or he owns half of it, or half a share, or something. One of those things, so we hang out here sometimes.”

“Great.” Ben wondered if the entire tour was going to be this fascinating. But a streetlamp was lighting up her hair like a yellow halo, and she looked so warm and full of life, he didn’t think he’d really care if she dragged him into a library to show him old plat maps.

“Okay. This way!”

She was practically skipping down the sidewalk now, and he hurried to keep up with her. Not skipping.

--

Leslie had no idea what she was doing.

She was kind of buzzed, and the guy, Ben, whoever he was, was cute, and before she knew what was happening she was offering to show him around Pawnee.

What else could she do when he said he wasn’t from around here? She had to show him how awesome it was! Clearly he didn’t know how awesome it was yet.

Except, now they were outside, and it belatedly occurred to her that she had just picked up a strange guy at a bar. And when a woman picks up a guy at a bar and they leave together, that usually means … oh crap, did he expect sex?

After skipping a few steps to the corner-yeah, she was definitely a little buzzed-she paused to try to decide what to do, or at least figure out what he wanted to do, and then decide if she wanted to do that.

He was good looking, tall but not too tall, trim, professionally dressed. Good hair. Maybe she did want to do that, whatever that was.

“So this is basically the border between Pawnee’s red light district and its historical factory district,” Leslie announced in her best tour-guide voice, trying to sneakily discern something about his intentions. “Which way would you like to go?”

He raised an eyebrow uncertainly, his hands in his pockets. Damn, he had a cute face.

“Pawnee has a red light district?”

It was just a question, and she couldn’t tell if he was interested in that, or if he was just confirming a fact. “It’s basically just the Glitter Factory,” she explained. “Which isn’t in the factory district because they don’t make glitter. They make troubled young women do very bad things.”

His eyebrows did some weird twitchy things, and he opened his mouth and closed it once before saying anything. “Factories it is, then. The historical ones, not the … other kind. So that’s … this way?”

Leslie grinned at him, proud she’d picked up a guy who was more interested in learning about history than objectifying women. Not that she had picked him up. They were just taking a tour. It was like providing a free public service!

“Yes! Right this way.”

She headed off down Baker Street, stopping at the corner where it intersected Howland, and turned around. Good, he was still with her.

“Let me guess,” Ben said, looking around the intersection. “Pawnee’s first Taco Bell Express?”

“What? No. Here, over here.”

She pointed out the small plaque indicating the former site of Pawnee’s bread factory before it had burned down. It was really a small plaque, and it could use some polish. She hoped he was suitably impressed by it. If only she had some sort of cloth, she could cover it up and pull it off for a more dramatic reveal.

Ben leaned in to read the fine print in the dim light of a streetlamp, and she watched him, half happy that he was giving the little plaque his full attention, half disappointed that he was getting all that information from it, and there wouldn’t be much left for the tour leader to reveal.

“Wow,” Ben said when he’d finished, and Leslie grinned at him. “That’s pretty awful.”

“Awful?”

“The thirty people who died in the fire?”

“Oh. Yes. That was awful. But at least William Percy was able to rescue the secret recipe.”

He looked at her strangely. “The recipe was that good?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had it.” She squinted at him, nodding her head in the direction of where the building used to be. “The factory burned down, remember?”

Ben laughed-at himself, probably, for already forgetting the factory was gone. “Of course,” he said.

Leslie paused to smell the air. “Sometimes I think you can still smell burnt bread in the breeze.”

He sniffed the air too, wrinkling his nose. “I think that’s just pizza and tacos.”

“You’re probably right. It was a long time ago,” she agreed, giggling and setting off to continue the tour. “So that was the factory district.”

“That was the whole district?”

“Well, we have other factories. Sweetums. Kernsten’s-they make nipples. But they’re on the newer end of town. Not on the tour.”

“Ah,” he said. “So what else is on the tour?”

When she glanced over at him as they walked side by side, he was looking back at her, and his gaze was warm with-she wasn’t quite sure, but she wondered if maybe he wasn’t just interested in Pawnee’s history after all. Her stomach flipped over, and she almost forgot to answer his question.

“Um …” Leslie knew everything there was about Pawnee’s history, every interesting nook and cranny, but suddenly she was drawing a blank. “Parks. A park. Parks are good. Everyone loves parks. I really love parks. Do you like parks?”

“Sure. Parks are good,” he agreed.

“Excellent. I am going to show you the greatest park you have ever seen. Think of the best park from your childhood, and then just double that. No, triple it. That’s how awesome this park is going to be.”

“I don’t know,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “I’ve seen some pretty good parks.”

“Well, you haven’t seen this one.” She waggled her eyebrows confidently for maximum effect.

Which one, though? Quickly, Leslie figured out which park was closest, and turned down another street. It’s too bad Ramsett was a couple miles away-they’d never make it there on foot before raccoon hour.

She led him down another street, then walked a block down before stopping outside of Sutter’s Grove. “This is it,” she said, sweeping her arms out toward the small residential park. “Unfortunately all the parks close at sundown. So we should probably stay on the sidewalk and just look.”

“Oh.” Ben stood quietly for a few moments. “It’s pretty dark. I can’t really see anything more than a few feet away.”

“Oh yeah.” Squinting into the darkness, Leslie started to describe it from memory. “Well, over there, there’s a swingset with three swings and a baby swing. And a jungle gym, not one of the newer ones they make now with the bridges and all that, the older kind that looks like a dome made out of triangles. They brought it over from the old elementary school when the school didn’t want it anymore. I don’t know why they didn’t want it. That’s the best kind of jungle gym, I think. And there’s a sandbox. It could really use new sand. But during the day, it’s filled with little kids and their trucks, pushing them around, making little piles, just being little kids. And their parents sit on that bench over there, catching up. Also there’s a big maple tree, so it’s shady.”

When she looked back at Ben, Leslie was surprised to find he was no longer turned toward the park, but staring down at her instead. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, his gaze warm and amused.

“I might have oversold it,” she admitted, smiling self-consciously. True, she loved this park like she loved all Pawnee’s parks, but it was just a park. There were parks like this everywhere. That was what was so great about it.

“I don’t think so.” He laughed quietly, bobbing his head from side to side. “Yeah, okay, maybe a little bit. I like it though. I wonder why they don’t make jungle gyms like that anymore.”

Leslie playfully bumped his arm with her fist. “I know, right?”

She was about to tell him about her job, how she got to be one of the lucky people overseeing Pawnee’s parks, but then she noticed the warm way he was still gazing down at her and was distracted by the thought that he might try to kiss her.

Was he going to kiss her? No one had kissed her since Justin on Valentine’s Day, and the thought of kissing a cute stranger outside a park after dark seemed romantic, and he had a really nice mouth, and he liked parks, and …

Just as she was contemplating leaning in herself, he looked down, breaking the moment and clearing his throat. “So, um, what’s next?”

“What’s next? Oh! Right, the tour. Yeah, um…”

It was getting to be a little late, not quite raccoon hour, but they were pushing it, and Leslie racked her brain to think of someplace indoors she could take him. But the only places that were open this late were bars, and they had started out at a bar, so the idea of trying to take him back to a bar seemed anticlimactic. But where else-

Suddenly she had an idea.

“I know just the place,” she said, tugging his arm to make sure he followed her. “How do you feel about snow globes?”

--

Once again, Ben found himself taking off after Leslie into the night, unsure where she was taking him. She had this strange magnetic quality, and he felt like he’d just about follow her anywhere and agree to anything.

“Snow globes? Oh, well, that’s my favorite kind of globe, obviously.”

See. Like that.

“Really? Mine too!” Leslie’s face lit up, like she hadn’t detected the note of irony or insincerity in his voice (which, honestly, he couldn’t have sworn was there in the first place). “You are going to love this place then.”

Ben followed her for about half a dozen blocks, winding through the city toward whatever mysterious snow globe-themed destination she had in mind, enjoying listening to her as she chattered about this and that. She told him why a particular duck crossing sign had been installed (she even named the ducks that made their home in that area), and when a speed bump had been heroically lowered by one inch.

Ben wondered how she knew all this stuff, and it crossed his mind that maybe she was in government, but he pushed the thought away, because the fact that he was there to audit that government would make things pretty awkward if that was the case. And anyway, he’d never met a government employee who showed this much unjaded enthusiasm for the minute details of the city they worked for, so it seemed pretty unlikely.

And he didn’t want to think about work right now anyway. This little impromptu excursion was too much of a welcome distraction.

“Hey! Look over there!” Leslie suddenly exclaimed after they’d been walking a while.

Startled, Ben stopped to look in the direction she was pointing, not seeing anything. “What? What am I looking for?”

“Ha!” Leslie gave him a playful shove, looking smug. “I tricked you.”

“Wow. Good one.” What was she, eight? “The tour director pointed at something, and I looked. What was I thinking?”

At least she had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Actually, there is something. That hill you can see over there, that was the site of the Battle of Indian Hill. The Wamapoke Indians had no weapons, so they had to use mind games. Local historians think Chief Wakote was possibly the first person ever to use ‘Hey! Look over there!’ as a trick.”

“Did it work?”

Leslie turned more serious. “At first. But no. He was shot 102 times. And died.”

“I would think so,” Ben said, grimacing at the thought.

After an appropriate moment of silence for the long-dead chief, they continued on, finally stopping outside a nondescript building.

A sign on the door told him it was the Hompherman Snow Globe Museum, and it was open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays, and from 10 a.m. to noon on Saturdays, except in August for some reason.

“Um …” He was about to point out to her that they had somehow missed business hours, but instead of steering toward the door, Leslie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the side of the building, and around to the back.

“How are the bottoms of your shoes? Do they have any tread? Will they give you any traction against brick? If not you should probably take them off.”

Ben stopped and stared at her. “Why would I take off my shoes? What’s going on?”

“We’re going to the snow globe museum,” she said matter-of-factly. “We can’t go through the front door because it’s closed most of the time, including now. But I know another way in.”

Ben skeptically surveyed the back of the building, basically a blank brick wall with a few windows halfway up.

“And this way involves … a door, and a key, and permission from whoever owns this building?”

“What? No. It involves a window, and a purse-sized crow bar, and a zest for life.”

Good lord. This woman was crazier than Ben had even realized.

“Okay. Um … yeah, no, that doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. Why don’t we head back, and you can give me your phone number. I’ll call you, and … we’ll meet back here some other time. When it’s open. And then you can show me all the snow globes, because I’m really excited about that.”

For a moment it looked like she was going to listen to reason, and he wasn’t going to get murdered by a crazy woman with a purse-sized crow bar behind a snow globe museum in the middle of the night, but then she laughed and shook it off.

“But we’re already here! Relax. I went to school with Sophie Hompherman. She’s the friendliest Hompherman, and she will vouch for us if we get caught. At worst, we’d spend one night in the slammer, depending on whether she sleeps through her cell phone ringing. But I’m sure they’d put us in the same cell, and I’d entertain you with ghost stories and riddles until she got there. I know a lot of riddles. But that won’t even happen, because we won’t turn on the lights, and no one will ever know we were here!”

Ben shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation, that this person existed at all.

“Um … why can’t we just come back on Tuesday when it’s open?”

This suggestion, for some reason, deflated her, just pushed all the light right out of her. It was startling to see.

“Because. I’ve been banned for life. For shaking the snow globes too many times.” She shook her head remorsefully. “So this is the only way I can get in anymore.”

“Oh. Well. As long as we’d only be breaking and entering into someplace you’re banned from.”

Her mouth twitched into a tentative smile, her blue eyes wide with hope, and he felt that tug again. It was just … it had to be some magnetic force in the earth's atmosphere, there was no other explanation for the effect she was having on him.

He sighed in resignation. “Okay. Just. Explain to me, why do you need me to take off my shoes?”

Leslie smiled, and it was like someone flipped a switch and the sun suddenly came up in the middle of the night.

That must be why he suddenly felt so warm.

--

Even as she was trying to persuade Ben, Leslie knew this was pretty crazy. She had just gotten carried away with the idea of showing him something really great about Pawnee, some aspect of its history that didn’t involve tragedy or injustice, and once she got the idea in her head, it was hard to give it up.

The weird thing was, she actually appreciated his hesitation, the fact that he respected rules and laws and wasn’t going to break into someplace willy-nilly just because she told him to. And also, that when he said he’d call her to meet her here later, she believed him.

But also, best of all, that he came around to the idea of going now. Because that seemed like so much more fun than waiting.

“You. Are not going to regret this.” She poked him in the chest, running her hand down his shirt to his stomach. His shockingly flat stomach. “This is what Jack London was talking about, the difference between living and existing!”

Boy, she was on such a high tonight. Her part of the master plan was ready, she met a cute guy, and she was going to get to shake some snow globes. It felt like anything was possible.

“Okay, let me see the bottoms of your shoes.” Uncertainly, Ben lifted up his foot to show her. Most men’s dress shoes would probably be too slick on the bottom, but his looked like they had enough of a tread to grip the wall. “Good, that should work. You can leave them on.”

“Um, thanks.”

He was still frowning at her really skeptically, but Leslie knew she had to keep moving, before she had a chance to think this through anymore and ruin all the fun. With her crow bar in hand (it was always useful to carry a small selection of tools in one’s purse), she turned toward the window.

“Could you just … give me a little boost so I can get up there to pry it open?”

“Ahhhh … okay. Sure.” Ben put his hands on her waist, which was really distracting, but then he reconsidered and knelt down, linking his fingers together so that she could use them as a step. “You ready?”

“I am always ready.” He lifted her up, and she started to push the edge of the crow bar under the edge of the window. As long as no one had fixed the interior lock …

“So you’ve done this before?” Ben asked.

“Not … exactly. But I know what I’m doing.” After the elder Homphermans had banned Leslie for life, their daughter Sophie had seen how devastated she was and told her about this window. The only problem had been that Leslie was too short to reach it. Clearly all she needed was a cute guy to give her a boost. So see, her bringing him here was like fate-if fate meant taking charge and making something happen for yourself.

When Leslie pried the window up enough, she slipped her hands in and pushed it the rest of the way open. It wasn’t a large window, but she could easily fit, and Ben was almost as slim as she was.

“Okay, I’m gonna climb through, and then I’ll help pull you up.” She scrambled in, and once she righted herself on the other side, leaned back out. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ben said, not really sounding all that ready.

He was tall enough to grab onto the side of the windowsill and hoist himself partway, feet clamoring ungracefully up the wall. Leslie grabbed his arms and helped tug him through. When his torso was inside and his legs were still sticking out, it became apparent that he was too long to easily rotate his body to land feet first on the other side, like she had done.

To help him out, Leslie wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled. But she miscalculated how hard she would need to tug, and Ben’s body suddenly surged through the window with a surprising velocity that knocked Leslie right over. She fell backward, and he landed full length on top of her on the floor, catching most of his weight on his arms so that he didn’t crush her, which seemed really nice of him in the circumstances.

For a moment neither of them moved, and Leslie’s whole body was tense with anticipation. They were both breathing heavily, his face inches away, his wide eyes staring into hers. She had planned on giving him a complete guided tour of the snow globe collection, but this felt so good, his chest pressing down lightly on her breasts, his hips lined up with hers, his mouth so close she could almost feel the stubble on his cheeks. She didn’t want to move. Or she did want to move, but just …

Suddenly Ben appeared to snap out of a daze. Looking a little embarrassed, he pulled himself up partially. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Great. Never been better.” Her voice was coming out all breathy sounding.

Disappointingly, he stood up and reached down to grab her hand to help her up.

But she couldn’t really blame him either-he probably just couldn’t wait to see the snow globes.

--

Ben’s heart was still pounding in his chest, and he glanced around the room to get his bearings and try to focus on something other than how warm and soft Leslie had felt laying under him, how her yellow hair had looked spilling around her head, how much he had wanted to just lean down and kiss this crazy woman who could tell him the history of the pavement on Baker Street and who would go to such great lengths to show him some …

Good lord. There were a shocking number of snow globes in this place, actually.

“Where are we?” His voice came out low and gravelly, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.

“I told you. It’s a snow globe museum.”

Ben laughed. “I know. It just hadn’t occurred to me what that meant. There are a lot of snow globes in here.”

Leslie grinned and squeezed his hand, and Ben realized belatedly that he had never quite let go after helping her up, so they were basically holding hands now.

“There are more than 1,500 snow globes total. Do you like it?”

Ben took in the display cases containing rows and rows of glass spheres holding different winter scenes, lit just slightly with strands of white Christmas lights. All the low-lit twinkle and sparkle was almost other-worldly. “I do,” he said sincerely, as he returned his gaze back to Leslie.

She beamed back at him proudly. “Great, let’s go!”

Dropping his hand, she rushed toward one of the cases, grabbed a globe, and upended it to set off the flurry of snowflakes within.

“What are you waiting for?” she said. “I think we should try to get as many blizzards going as we can so that it’s like we’re in the middle of a snowstorm. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Somehow Ben didn’t think that was going to work quite like she was planning, but she looked so happy and determined, he couldn’t help but join in. Upending one orb after another-Christmas scenes, kids sledding and making snowmen, woodland dioramas, peaceful looking cityscapes-he felt younger and more carefree than he had in ages. They only ever managed to get a dozen or so flurries going at one time, but it was fun trying, and of course Leslie kept up the almost-constant narration explaining the significance of different globes.

“Didn’t you say you were banned from touching these?” He felt silly as soon as the question was out of his mouth-after all, shaking the snow globes was hardly on the scale of climbing through the window.

But Leslie shot him an intensely flirtatious look in answer. “I’m in the mood to go after what I want right now.”

As he was gaping at her, feeling overwhelmed by what she might mean by that, how beautiful she looked in the dim light, how much he wanted to touch her, Leslie turned over a few more snow globes and then whirled to show him one.

“Look at this,” she breathed.

It looked empty to him. Just a blank white surface and some glittery flakes.

“What am I looking at?” He was really only half looking now, because she was standing so close he could practically feel her warmth again, and she lit up when she was excited about something, which was pretty much constantly.

“Potential,” she said dramatically, her eyes widening for effect. “It’s like this empty lot I know, and I have this plan to-”

Then he was kissing her. He didn’t mean to cut her off, didn’t even really mean to kiss her, but suddenly he was, and she was kissing him back, and it was a miracle he had the presence of mind while threading one hand through her hair to use his other hand to secure the fragile globe and replace it on a shelf.

She gasped slightly, then reoriented her mouth, opening it wider. He slid his hands from her hair down the length of her back, drawing her in closer, as she ran the edge of her tongue along his upper lip and scraped her fingernails down his shirt, pressing her whole body against him.

And suddenly this was not just a kiss.

Ben broke away slightly, just enough to look down into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice sounded weirdly husky, and he cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Leslie smiled at him, warm, considering, shifting her body against him just enough to send waves of want surging through him all over again. “You know, I didn’t pick you up for this,” she murmured.

He blinked at her. “I didn’t think you did.”

“What did you think?”

Smiling self-consciously, Ben tilted his forehead down against hers. “I thought … I don’t know what I thought. My best guess was that you were taking me on a tour of Pawnee.”

She seemed to like that answer because she grinned and grabbed his hand decisively, pulling him toward a small wooden door he hadn’t noticed before. Of course he followed her, because that was the running theme tonight, but he wondered what she could possibly want to show him at the moment.

On the other side was a small, tidy office, dark except for the light from a small aquarium. It contained a desk, chair, a few bookshelves … and a couch.

Oh thank god.

--

Leslie wasn’t tipsy anymore. Not in the slightest, and she was very conscious of that fact as she grabbed Ben’s hand and led him into the backroom office so that she could finish what they hadn’t even started back there on the floor when he had fallen on top of her.

What was she doing? This wasn’t like her. This was living, not existing, that’s what she was doing. If she could make a plan to build a park in only fifteen months and shake hundreds of snow globes in one night, she could have a one-night stand with a cute guy whose last name she did not know. And who was apparently not from around here, although she had forgotten to ask follow-up questions about that, or much else for that matter. But the important thing was that she wanted to do this and-

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, as if reading her mind.

“I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet,” Leslie quoted as she pulled him down onto the couch.

And good ol’ Jack must have been talking about situations like this, because she felt really superb. And hot. And glowy. Definitely more like a meteor than a planet. And Ben was kissing her again, which was really hot, and she didn’t want to be a sleepy planet at all.

“Mmmmm, quote more Jack London to me, that’s really hot,” Ben teased in between kisses, as Leslie scooted out of her blazer and giggled.

“I could. Don’t tempt me. I’ve been reading a lot of Jack London this week.”

Instead of giving her a chance to prove it, he captured her mouth with his again, kissing her thoroughly and eloquently. Leslie climbed up onto his lap, straddling him, rocking her hips against his until she could feel him harden underneath her.

“Are you a meteor or a planet, Ben?” she breathed as she paused to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He half-sighed, half-groaned, gazing at her warmly, but with a hint of hesitation. “I am usually a very sleepy planet. Who doesn’t plan for meeting meteors.”

It took her just a second to get his meaning. When she did she hopped down, went out to the gallery to grab her purse, and came back with what they needed. She didn’t make a habit of this, but she was a modern woman who carried a Swiss Army knife, pepper spray, and a condom with her at all times.

“Don’t you worry. The meteor has us covered.”

She climbed onto his lap again and worked on the rest of his buttons as he nuzzled her neck and pressed steamy kisses just above the V of her blouse. After she pushed the shirt off him, she pulled her blouse off too, to give him better access to the good stuff. Groaning in approval, he licked his way down the seam of her bra, bringing a hand up to cup her breast, as Leslie shifted around in his lap to grind herself against him. He felt so hard, and it had been so long, she wanted him inside her immediately.

Ben paused what he was doing, and Leslie opened her eyes to check what was going on, meeting his dark gaze.

“You stopped narrating,” he pointed out quietly.

“Narrating?”

He smiled, kind of lopsided, running his large hands up and down her sides. “You’ve been narrating constantly all night. And now you’ve stopped. I’d gotten kind of used to it.”

Leslie traced her thumbs from the insides to the outsides of his eyebrows, down the sides of his face from his sideburns to his stubble. “Well, this isn’t part of the official tour.”

Ben shrugged and kissed her again, wrapped his arms around her back and in one surprisingly fluid move, lowered her down onto the couch and under him.

“Just an idea,” he said, hovering there, being all ridiculously sexy with his tousled hair and the hot way he was looking at her. How did she even manage to pick this guy up? Not that she had picked anyone up. They had just enjoyed an evening and then decided to sleep together. It happened, right?

He flicked his tongue into her ear, one large hand spanning and massaging a breast, then moved his mouth slowly down to revisit her chestal region.

“What about these hills here,” Ben murmured. “Any local tragedies happen here?”

Leslie giggled, her chest vibrating against his hand in a way that was really working for her. “Mmmmm.” There had been that awkward moment when her cousin reached for a soda and accidentally grabbed her boob, in front of their families. It had seemed pretty tragic at the time, but it didn’t seem like the thing to mention at the moment. “I think the tragedy is that your mouth isn’t quite where I want it to be yet.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow, daring her to go on. “Tell me where to go. I’m not from around here, remember?”

God, he was being so dorky. She loved it though. It helped balance out how sexy he was, renewing her confidence.

“Um …” She closed her eyes, trying to wrap her head around the idea of giving someone a guided tour of her body. More quickly than she might have expected, she got on board with it, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra and shrugging out of it. The cool air in the room hit her bare skin, causing her nipples to harden against the wiry hairs on Ben’s chest.

“Okay, turn west. Hike to the top of the hill, the very top. And … linger there. Enjoy the view.”

“I am enjoying the view,” Ben said, and oh god, that was dorky too. But then he started doing what she told him to do, kissing his way up the side of her breast, circling the summit, and setting up camp right there with his tongue on her hard nipple.

“Like that?”

“Yesssssss.” Leslie arched her back, pushing her breasts up against his hand and mouth, and spread her legs under him, so that his hips slotted down between her thighs. Gratifyingly, he thrust against her as he continued the magical things he was doing with his tongue.

“You are wearing too many pants,” she decided abruptly.

He chuckled softly against her. “You’re the tour director.”

Damn right, she was the tour director. Leslie reached down between them, but at the last second changed her goal and unfastened the clasp on her own pants, shifting to slide them down over her hips. Ben broke away from her long enough to help pull them the rest of the way off and settled back into her, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow again.

“I have a cave I want to show you. It’s very dark, and very deep and … wet. It’s very wet right now.” His dark eyes widened slightly at her, and Leslie had a panicky moment of self-doubt. “You don’t have to. Braver men have run screaming from this cave. I mean, there’s nothing too scary down there, but … we could really just skip to the end if you want. Yeah, on second thought, let’s do that, let’s skip to the end.”

Really, what was she thinking? The end was really the best part anyway.

“No way,” Ben said, leaning up to kiss her, smiling against her mouth. “I was promised the full tour. So … this way?”

His mouth trailed down her neck, his stubble scraping her skin pleasantly, and Leslie shivered in anticipation. “Keep going. You’re going to want to go a few more blocks … south.”

He moved methodically down her body, taking his time, seeing the sights, making her squirm against him eagerly, until he stumbled upon a particularly sensitive spot above her hipbone. Normally she was ticklish on her sides, but in the current circumstances ticklish wasn’t quite the right word for what she was experiencing.

“There? Really?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “I mean no, keep going.”

“They should put a little plaque on that spot. Don’t want to forget where that’s at.”

Leslie laughed and squirmed some more, trying to slide her body up the couch a little to move things along. He slid a hand into her underwear, pushing them down and thrusting an exploratory finger inside, curling it in just the right way to send electric shivers surging through her. It was awesome, but it wasn’t quite what she had in mind either.

“This cave?” His voice was low and rough, offsetting the complete obnoxiousness that this game was still going on.

“Oh my god, yes, but your mouth really needs to rejoin the rest of the tour group there.”

Still moving his fingers against her in that tantalizing way, he obligingly moved his head down and started kissing and gently biting his way up her thighs. Way too slowly. Unable to stand it anymore Leslie reached down and shoved her fingers deep in his hair and thrust up against his face.

Finally.

She had no idea what his mouth was doing down there, but whatever it was was pretty much the greatest thing ever, and she was already so turned on. He had one strong hand holding her hip securely, which was somehow almost as hot as the finger he was sliding in and out of her as he worked his mouth against her most sensitive landmarks, sending waves of electric heat through her body.

Leslie let go of his hair and fisted her hands in the couch upholstery. “Harder,” she gasped. “I’m so close.”

Then her whole body was tensing, her thighs crushing against the sides of his head, pressing him deeper into her as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

As she collapsed in a satisfied puddle, Ben grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk to wipe off his face and came back, stretching his body out against the back of the couch beside her and gently stroking his hands up and down her body, seemingly in no hurry to do anything else.

“Oh no,” she said, catching her breath. “The tour is not over yet. Pants. Off.”

Grinning, he took care of the pants situation, then settled in between her legs again, kissing her forehead, her cheek and then her lips, lingering there before looking down at her. “You are something else, you know that?”

She grinned back at him, grabbed his ass and pulled him forward, gasping as he slid deep inside her. He closed his eyes and burrowed his head into the space between her neck and shoulder, for once neither offering nor asking for commentary, just intensely focused on moving his body inside of her body, and it was wonderful. Not as intense as what he had been doing to her before, but somehow the completeness of having their bodies joined made it better.

Leslie wrapped her arms around his back tightly and brought her knees up to circle his hips to change the angle. As he picked up the pace, he reached a hand down between them to press a thumb against her clit, and she felt herself start to crest all over again.

Moaning, she brought her knees back down and braced her feet against the couch so that she could buck her hips up against him. He started slamming into her faster, with more erratic rhythm, still sliding his thumb in that way that was driving her crazy, and suddenly she clenched around him, experiencing a decidedly meteoric explosion of warmth as he thrust into her again and again before they both came down to earth at last.

Laying with his head on her chest afterward, running her fingers through his awesome hair, thinking about how much fun tonight was, Leslie wondered if it would be weird to ask him for his phone number, to find out where he was staying, to find out more about him in general. Justin had lived in Indianapolis, and it hadn’t been that big of a deal. So maybe tomorrow after work …

Suddenly, Leslie sat up, startling Ben out of his contented collapse.

“Oh my god. What time is it? The raccoons. And I have a big day at work tomorrow. We gotta get out of here. How fast can you run?”

He stared at her a few beats before answering. “Um … fast? Usually, I think … but-”

Leslie started throwing on clothes, and bewildered looking, Ben did the same. “Let’s go, come on!”

Once they were dressed, Ben eyed the window warily, but Leslie gave him a shove, and he went through, then stood by as she carefully but quickly dropped to the ground. Then Ben lifted her up again so that she could pull it shut.

“You ready?” she asked when he didn’t immediately get going after that.

He shrugged, confused but happy looking. “Okay.”

Leslie grabbed his hand, and they took off, giggling and running through the darkened streets of Pawnee.

--

Ben woke up early the next morning, imagery of yellow hair and phantom playgrounds and purse-sized burglary tools floating back to him like fragments of a really strange dream.

He sat up, trying to convince himself that any of it was real.

Okay, yes, he had definitely committed a felony. That happened. And perhaps even more shocking … he had met someone. Leslie. Leslie … oh god, he didn’t even know her last name. How had that happened? He hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly, and at the end of the night she had rushed off in such a hurry, he hadn’t had a chance to even stop and collect his faculties from their various and strange locations scattered around Pawnee.

As he got out of bed, showered, and drank his coffee, he considered his options. She had made such an impression, he felt like he’d practically be able to describe her to the first person he ran into and be immediately pointed in her direction.

Or not. Pawnee was small, but not that small.

Well, he did know she had a friend who had some sort of stake in the Snakehole Lounge, that was something. And if they didn’t know her there, maybe the historical society or the history department at the community college would recognize her description. She was obviously passionate about local history. Or the local newspaper-she seemed like the type to write a lot of letters. Somebody there might know her.

He just had to get through this day at work, and then he’d start going about tracking her down. And then he’d … well he didn’t know, but he’d come up with the rest later. Asking her out didn’t seem to quite encompass the nebulous yearnings she’d awakened inside him.

On his way into Pioneer Hall, Ben purposely drove the long way around town so that he could take a look at that park on Sutter’s Drive in daylight. In the early-morning fog, it looked damp and desolate, with slightly run-down equipment, but clean and well-tended. He liked thinking about her liking it-that she could be so passionate about something so utterly ordinary.

It was going to be long day until he could figure out how to see her again.

The first day on the job in a new city was usually the worst. People tended to be either defensive about or completely ignorant of their city’s budget situation, and generally suspicious of big-city outsiders sent to make changes. It was understandable-they were worried about losing their jobs, worried about the increased difficulty of doing their jobs with less, worried about the unknown.

Ben’s first day at Pioneer hall was both better and worse than usual. Worse because he felt like he knew this city intimately already, that he had some sort of personal stake in the discussions because he had walked its streets and heard its stories. And also better, because of his mood-the previous night’s events had left him feeling slightly giddy and hopeful, and in between the grim spreadsheets and tense conversations, his mind kept drifting back to her-Leslie grinning at him as she beckoned him to follow her somewhere, Leslie lighting up as she told him some detail of local history, Leslie holding up a snow globe to him like she was handing him the world, Leslie writhing warm and soft and naked underneath him. He had to keep forcing himself to focus on the work and avoid watching the clock, which was moving relentlessly at its usual speed.

Late in the afternoon, as he and Chris made their way to the parks department, his mind drifted to her yet again, thinking of the simple, dilapidated but beloved playground on Sutter’s Drive and feeling a pang of protectiveness toward it, even as he knew this department was going to have to be a low priority.

Chris rounded a corner, cheerfully calling out a greeting, and Ben braced himself for the next round of tense introductions and uncomfortable meetings.

“Chris Traeger,” his partner introduced himself. “And this is Ben.”

Ben looked up warily at the new faces, his eyes immediately snapping to the small blonde woman standing before him.

It was her. It was Leslie. Looking more professional and less ethereal than she had seemed in the various low lightings of last night and in his daydreams since then, but standing in front of him nonetheless. Ben opened his mouth and closed it again, about three disparate emotions surging forward to steal his breath away.

He’d wanted to see her again, wanted to hunt her down and make love to her on a bed of wildflowers or something else ridiculously romantic and unrealistic, but … here? She was here?

Of course she was, he chided himself. He just hadn’t wanted to accept the possibility that someone like her probably worked in government, because that would make things difficult for him.

The shock on her own face softened to a tentative warmth as she extended a hand for a professional handshake. “Deputy Director Leslie Knope,” she introduced herself, a wobbly puzzlement in her eyes that Ben hoped he was the only one to notice, and he was so grateful that she was taking this in stride and not blurting out something uncomfortable in front of their superiors. Seriously, Chris was standing right next to him, Chris who would probably get him fired if he ever found out Ben had slept with someone connected to the audit, even if he hadn’t known who she was at the time. Best case scenario, Ben would get a stern lecture on the health hazards of anonymous sex.

He managed an awkward nod in Leslie’s direction, and she smiled nervously.

“Would you gentlemen like a tour?” Leslie asked with slightly unnerved politeness.

Just as he was starting to regain some sense of composure, the word tour slammed into him with all its myriad associations from the night before.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” he managed after Chris wholeheartedly agreed to it. Leslie’s face fell, and he immediately regretted it. Of course this was going to be a work-appropriate tour. What on earth was he thinking? “I mean ... sure, of course, why not?”

Then she led them around the office, enthusiastically pointing out various flyers and binders and blueprints related to parks programs, but with a guardedness that hadn't been there the night before. She was as worried as anyone he’d met today, he realized, and bits of things she had said over the course of last night drifted back to him, like puzzle pieces slipping into place. All that talk about a master plan-she must have been talking about her department’s budget plans, and she’d been bursting with pride and enthusiasm over it.

Oh god. This was going to be difficult.

After giving everyone the misleading impression that the auditors were only there to “tinker,” Chris excused himself, and Ben followed Leslie and the department head, a large man named Ron Swanson, into a conference room. With him in the room, Ben forced himself to treat this like any other meeting he’d had today and hoped Leslie would follow his lead.

“I really like your shirt,” Leslie said, right as he was saying, “I’d like to talk about where in your department there’s waste.”

They exchanged an awkward look, and Ben wished more than anything for a moment alone with her to explain.

“There is none,” Leslie answered as Ron gleefully contradicted her in the most obnoxious way possible.

Trying to move the meeting along, Ben asked about a specific employee, immediately prompting Leslie to passionately defend that employee, and the meeting quickly went downhill from there. As clearly and honestly as he was trying to explain the very dire situation her city was in, Leslie was refusing to accept it. Not that Ben would have expected anything less-of course the woman who had shown so much passion last night would feel similarly toward her department, her friends, her work.

“These are real people, in a real building, with real feelings,” she declared, a fire in her eyes that he’d admire if she weren’t currently so angry at him.

“This building has feelings?” He didn’t mean it to upset or insult her; it just reminded him of the endearing way she’d infused life into every seemingly insignificant landmark last night. But as soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Leslie’s nostrils flared. “Ron. I’d like to take this meeting alone.”

“Department heads are supposed to sit in. And if you think I’m going to give up my ringside seat to-”

“RON! Please.”

The older man fixed her with a steely stare and then, surprisingly, complied. “Steady now, Leslie,” he said to her on the way out.

When the door shut behind him, Leslie leaned forward across the table. “Who do you think you are, coming in here like this?”

Ben shrugged helplessly. “An auditor for the state. Leslie, this is my job. I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“You two-faced liar! You seduced me under false pretenses. How do you live with yourself?”

“I seduced you? Wait, what? False pretenses … I didn’t know who you were. We never talked about our jobs. It never came up, right?”

“You’re right it never came up, because every time it was going to come up, you kissed me, or looked like you were going to kiss me, so I got distracted.”

Ben supposed that might be right-that every time she looked really passionate about something, he had wanted to kiss her. Suddenly he remembered that little empty snow globe and wondered what she’d been trying to tell him.

“You followed me around all night, pretending to care about my city, and all this time you were only here to gut it-with a machete.”

Okay, now Ben really regretted using that word. It was just that he’d get so annoyed with Chris going around and using misleading words like tinker. Tinker! Who says that?

“Leslie, I do care. I didn’t plan it like this. I was going to find you just as soon as I could."

"Yeah, as soon as the damage was done. I feel like such a fool. My plan to build a park on Lot 48 was yanked right out from under me, and then I find out the cute guy who seemed like he really got it doesn’t get it. At all!” She glared at him, folding her arms across her chest, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Do you need anything else-anything else I can do to help you gut my department?”

Ben didn’t know what to say. In a matter of minutes he’d somehow managed to wreck everything he thought they'd had together last night, and he had no idea how put it back together.

It had seemed too good to be true at the time, and … it was.

“I, um … I’ll get what I need from the spreadsheets,” he managed, gathering up his paperwork and fleeing the room.

Back in the makeshift office the city had set up for the auditors, Ben found a large tome on his desk with the city seal and MASTER PLAN in large block letters. He sat down and flipped through it until he found the parks department section and started reading.

There was the plan that Leslie had mentioned-an eloquently written proposal spun out of passion, and lofty quotes, and funds that just weren’t there.

“In the words of the great nineteenth-century outdoorsman Jack London, ‘You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.’ With those words ringing in our ears, we proudly present our plans for a new park on Municipal Lot 48.”

Ben could hear her voice, all that yellow-haired optimism, in the words, blurring together with things she’d said to him last night about meteors and planets, living and existing. He sighed and closed the book, feeling like he knew exactly how she felt, losing something he never quite had.

Chris bustled into the room just then, startling him out of his daze.

“How did your meeting go in the parks department?”

Ben hoped to god he hadn’t heard anything. “Um … okay. I think we came to an understanding. I’m going to look at the numbers and see what we can do.”

“Glad to hear it,” Chris said. “I have had a simply wonderful time here in Pawnee. Have you noticed how many beautiful women work here? A simply stunning woman just handed me this invitation in the hallway. It’s a party for someone from the parks department at someplace called the Snakehole Lounge.”

“I’m familiar,” Ben mumbled.

“You should go! I know you don’t usually like to socialize while on the job, but it could be fun.”

Ben stared at the invitation, which was for a birthday party for someone named April. From the parks department.

It felt like fate-that is, if fate meant seizing an opportunity to go after something you wanted. So actually, not much like fate at all.

“You said people from parks will be there?”

“That is what I heard,” Chris confirmed. “Why do you ask?”

“Um, no reason. Maybe I will give it a try after all.”

"Way to go, man." Chris slapped him on the back for some reason and jogged back out.

Ben looked back at the invitation he'd left behind, thinking. Grabbing his things, he set off for the Pawnee Super Suites, determined to put on his favorite shirt and give it his best shot.

Probably he’d burn out in a blaze, and it wouldn't even be a brilliant one. But … it was better than the alternative, right? A day ago he probably wouldn't have even tried, but today was ... a day later than yesterday, and something had changed.

And ... it's not like he had anything else to do tonight anyway.