Tumblr Roundup 5
Leslie at Various National Parks
-Grand Canyon
-Redwood National Park
-Yellowstone
Untitled (Season 4 breakup angst)
Untitled 2 (Leslie/Ben after Ann tells Leslie she's leaving)
Five Times Work Totally Didn't Feel Like Work (Andy in London)
Untitled 3 (Leslie/Ben post-Partridge)
Dr. Buttons (Season 6)
Ballerinas (April/Andy)
Untitled Smut (Ben/Leslie Season 6)
Birthday Cake (Ann/Chris)
Untitled 4 (April/Ann friendship)
Sunday (Ben/Leslie post-Pawnee Rangers)
Harvest Fest 2013 (Ben/Leslie)
Wizard Burt Macklin Saves the Day (Season 6)
Marathon Christmas Shopping Day (Ben/Leslie)
Grand Canyon
Leslie creeps forward, glad she’s been practicing walking toe to heel when she sneaks downstairs after she’s supposed to be in bed. Everyone knows it’s the stealthiest way to walk, even if it is more difficult to do with rocks crunching underfoot. But her parents are still busy arguing about the camera and there are no park rangers around (she checked-twice); if she doesn’t go now, she’ll probably never get another chance.
"You can see perfectly well from here," her mom has said every time Leslie has attempted to get close to the edge. And her dad would nod and add, "Just because there’s not a guard rail doesn’t mean you should go right up to the edge."
Except they don’t understand. Yes, she can see out, but she wants to see down. Right down over the edge so she can see just how deep this Grand Canyon really is.
She inches forward, one, two, three steps farther than her parents have ever let her go, slipping past a group of German tourists taking a picture, all the way up until the toes of her sneakers are lined up right against the edge.
And she looks down.
She has one second to be surprised-it’s not a straight drop down like she imagined but somehow it still makes her dizzy-and then her dad grabs her around the waist, picking her up and stepping back from the edge, holding her so, so tight she almost can’t breathe.
"Don’t ever do that again," he says. "Promise me, Leslie."
Leslie blinks over his shoulder, looking out at the canyon, all the hazy rainbow colors in the rock and the long, long way down, and hugs him back. “I promise,” she agrees.
The view is better up here anyway.
******
Redwood National Park
Ben glances over at Leslie. “You know we’re never going to find the exact tree, right?”
"We might," offers Leslie, but she sounds less certain than she was when they entered the forest an hour ago. "Are you sure you don’t remember any landmarks?"
"I was five, Les."
"You said it was your most memorable vacation."
Ben’s pretty sure his criteria for memorable childhood vacations is the exact opposite of Leslie’s, as this particular one was less about how impressive the giant redwoods were and more about his mom pushing his dad into a creek, but he doesn’t point that out. She’s engrossed in the photo again, him and his siblings looking miniscule at the base of one of the huge trees. He hadn’t realized until they got to the park that Leslie had brought it with her, let alone that they’d spend hours fruitlessly searching for the same tree. But it’s weirdly endearing that she cares enough to try.
"I think you might be right," she sighs. She leans against the trunk of one of the trees, slowly tipping her head back to look at the leafy canopy above them. "And I felt short before."
Ben snaps a picture of her then, head titled to the sky, tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail to frame her neck, looking very much like she belongs here. She catches him, smiling, and he takes another picture.
"We should write down where we are," he offers, digging out his trail map as Leslie steps toward him. "For when we come back someday."
She nods, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He barely notices when she steals the camera, awkwardly holding it out and taking a picture. He blinks in surprise, and she shrugs.
"This is a memorable place."
*****
Yellowstone
"Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!"
When Ben doesn’t immediately respond, Abby tugs at his hair, probably a little harder than she means to, and he instinctively jerks his head away. “Dad!”
"What?"
"Is it time yet?"
Ben tucks his phone back into his pocket, glancing at the steam rising from the geyser. He has absolutely no clue how to tell when this thing is going to burst. It looks the same now as it did twenty minutes ago. “Probably soon,” he reasons.
"When?"
"I don’t know. They can’t say exactly when."
Abby wraps her arms around his neck, resting her chin on top of his head and sighing. “We’ve been here forever. I wanna see it.”
"Well you have to be patient."
He’s sure Abby is rolling her eyes, a habit he not-so-secretly blames April for teaching her, and she stamps her foot against the seat. “I hate being patient,” she mutters. He has a feeling she doesn’t intend for him to hear it. Louder, she adds, “They should be able to tell you when.”
Ben is ready to launch into a speech about why they can only approximate when Old Faithful erupts, but Leslie arrives first, sliding into the seat next to him with yet another gift bag. Ben eyes it without comment as Abby moves to climb into Leslie’s lap.
"Wow," says Leslie, nudging Ben’s foot gently with her own. "This is taking forever, isn’t it?"
Ben just laughs.
*****
Untitled
Ben doesn’t know how to catalog their love story. There’s no one moment to pick; no time he can point to and declare as the minute he fell in love with her. It’s every time he’s heard her laugh and the day he noticed the decisiveness of her walk; how he felt the first time she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and the light in her eyes whenever she’s excited about a project. These small moments, like indistinguishable raindrops smeared against a window, are their story, the backdrop to the memories he can replay in detail.
It’s easier to push aside the highlights of their relationship. Easier to actively ignore them when he needs to; easier to pretend that he’s making them more significant than they were. He thinks if that was all there was, he could let go. Let his love for her fade to blurry reminiscence of something sweet. But that’s not their whole story, and it is the thousand little reasons that he fell in love with her that break his heart again and again. They hit him hard and unexpectedly, triggered by nothing more significant than a wave in the hallway or the way she leans against his desk one morning.
He cannot hide from them.
But those are not the worst days. Those are not the days he secludes himself in the bathroom or lies awake at night. It is not the ache of sudden remembrance that haunts him, but the exquisite pain of realizing his loss.
Each minute of falling in love with Leslie that he’ll never remember.
Each minute of continuing to love her that he’ll have to endure alone.
*****
Untitled 2
Leslie can feel the exhaustion all the way down to her bones. Not the exhaustion of a productive day at work, of managing chaos and solving problems-that satisfying exhaustion she usually feels. This is something heavier; something dragging her down instead of buoying her up.
Because Ann is thinking about leaving.
It’s like she can feel it beating in her heart.
Ben’s arms have loosened around her, his breathing evening out, but she knows he’s not asleep yet. Every so often his hand smooths along her back or his lips press to her forehead, these tiny reminders that she’s not alone, even if she feels like she is. And she loves him for that. Loves him for pulling her into his arms as soon as she walked through the door. Loves him for not telling her that it’s going to be okay because he knows it’s not. Loves him because he’s sad too, even if it’s not the same.
Just loves him.
"You should sleep," he mumbles. His lips brush her forehead again. "I know you won’t, but you should."
She squeezes him, and Ben shifts, pulls her a little closer. She can hear his heartbeat now, steady and calming, and it helps, a little.
"They haven’t decided anything for sure."
"I know."
But she thinks they both know it feels like a lie.
*****
Five Times Work Totally Didn't Feel Like Work
One
There’s like a hundred statues in Eddie’s house. It reminds Andy of that creepy show he and April watched with Ben that one time where the statues came to life and killed people or something (“Sent them back in time,” April reminds him when he tells her about it). When he tells Eddie about it, they spend an afternoon pretending the statues are evil killer time-travelers they have to fight. They film a couple of the battles and only break three statues. It’s pretty cool.
Two
They try to start a band. Eddie doesn’t play any instruments, but he buys a bunch to try out. The only one he can really play is the kazoo, but it turns out it sounds kind of awesome with the guitar. Andy texts Burly and suggests adding one to the band, but all he gets back is a message that says, “Dude, where the hell have you been?”
Three
One day they try to impersonate each other’s accents. It’s probably not fair since Andy already has British down and Eddie sucks at being American. When they call April to try to trick her, she totally knows (mostly because Eddie sucks), but she goes along with it anyway and pretends to be Russian.
Four
Eddie lets him drive to a meeting one day.
It does not go well.
They definitely don’t make the meeting, but they do stop for ice cream on the walk home.
Five
One day they go to some river and race remote control speedboats. Andy sinks two and some angry-looking bird attacks one of Eddie’s; it’s totally awesome. Eddie promises that he can take two home with him when he leaves.
It’s definitely the best job ever.
*****
Untitled 3
”I feel bad.”
Leslie glances over at Ben, trying to keep an eye on the road as she does so. “Are your pain meds wearing off?” she asks. He still looks loopy, eyes shiny and body slouched in the seat, but as Ann has told her many times, she’s not qualified to make diagnoses. “Do you need another pill?”
"No. Not bad like I feel bad. I mean I feel bad, you know?"
"Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about."
Ben leans toward her (really, he sort of slumps over in her direction, but she thinks he means to lean in) and reaches for her hand. He grabs her wrist instead and strokes his thumb along the edge of her palm. “I have to confess something.”
"Okay…"
"You didn’t forget to pack your iPod."
"What?"
"You packed it. Then I unpacked it. And I hid it in the vegetable crisper."
Leslie frowns. They have a vegetable crisper?
"It’s just such a long drive, and I couldn’t."
"You couldn’t what?"
"Huh?"
"What couldn’t you do?"
"Listen. To your music. I’m sorry."
Leslie nods. It’s hard to be annoyed when he’s staring at her all earnestly and doped out of his skull. Even if she is a little offended. She has awesome taste in music.
"Are you mad?"
"No." He beams at her and she shakes her head. "Now I don’t feel so guilty about purposely leaving your iPod at your sister’s house."
*****
Dr. Buttons
”You never told me you named your calculator.”
Ben looks a tiny bit embarrassed, which somehow makes the whole thing even more endearing. He’s still holding the calculator-no, Dr. Buttons-with the sort of gentle embrace usually reserved for newborns or shivering kittens. “Well, you know…”
She bumps his shoulder. “Do you know how many times we made out in front of him? I think I might have sat on him once. And this whole time, you never introduced us.”
"Yeah. Okay."
"I mean, we must be talking about one of your longest friendships, right? I’m a little hurt, Ben."
"Les…"
She reaches over and pinches his butt. “Am I your dirty little secret? Is that why Dr. Button’s couldn’t know?”
"Good lord. It’s a calculator, Leslie.”
"Don’t let him hear you say that!"
*****
Ballerinas
When April was five, she and her sister were ballerinas for Halloween. Their parents still have a picture of them posing together on the mantle, grinning in matching pink tutus. It’s the sort of mortifying childhood memento she used to hide whenever her friends came over.
The first time Andy sees it, he snatches the picture off of the mantle, laughing, and says, “Is this you?”
"No."
"Ha!" He stares at the snapshot for a moment, and for some reason she can’t explain, April doesn’t tear it out of his hands and throw it in the fireplace. "Dude," he says, "was this like a good ballerina-evil ballerina thing? That is such a cool costume!"
April shrugs; it’s weirdly kind of hard not to smile, something that seems to happen more often with Andy around.
She doesn’t hate it as much as she should.
"I bet you were an awesome evil ballerina, babe."
"Well," she admits, "I did steal most of Natalie’s candy."
*****
Untitled Smut
Leslie grips the headboard with both hands as she fucks him, leverage that may help prolong but can’t sustain the frantic pace at which she’s moving. Hurried. Desperate. Angry. They’re all apt descriptions for the way she’s riding him, intensity visible from the tension in her fingers through the arch of her back, all the way down to where her knees are pressed against his thighs. But it’s her closed eyes that give her away-a disconnect that speaks more to her need for release than for him.
It hurts. It’s frustrating as hell. It’s not fair to him. But what kills Ben in this moment, rips him open from the inside and tears him apart, is how much he understands this. Understands that she needs this release; needs an outlet for her pain and fury and irritation. Understands that right now, she feels like the entire world is against her, and this is one way to escape that soul-crushing pressure.
He knows exactly how she feels. He knows what it means to be on the receiving end of an entire town’s hatred. But this is worse-so much worse in so many ways-because it’s Leslie and she doesn’t deserve this.
And he can’t do anything to stop it.
She whimpers above him, rhythm faltering and annoyance palpable, not finding that release she craves. There’s an awkwardness to how erratic this is, their synchronicity lost and movements clumsy, and when Leslie collapses against him, forehead on his shoulder as she pants against his chest, it’s almost a relief.
He can’t change what’s happening. He can’t change the way people feel about his wife. He can’t change the outcome of the recall vote, whatever it may be.
But he can strategize with her. He can fight by her side. He can let her fuck him or cry on his shoulder or whatever else she needs to feel better for a moment. He can be there for her in every way possible.
And he can love her.
He rolls her onto her back, presses a kiss against her sweaty forehead, another at her temple, lets his lips find hers and reminds her.
He’s here.
And he will never stop loving her.
*****
Birthday Cake
"Oh hey!" calls Ann as Chris enters the house and shuts the door. "Come here! You need to see this."
"Oh!" says Chris. He grins as he kicks off his shoes and ambles into the room, greeting her with a kiss. "Is it more of those delightful baby pandas?"
"No. This is better." She nods her head toward the television, on which a child’s birthday party is unfolding. Chris watches as the group of adults sings to the toddler, two tiny candles flickering on top of his cake.
"What-"
"Wait, wait! It’s gets better."
Chris watches, curiosity piqued, as the toddler takes a tentative bite of cake. His whole face contorts as he tastes the icing, eyes widening with surprise, and then without warning, he dives into the cake face first. It’s an attack as seamless as a participant’s technique in a pie eating contest: fast, precise, and gluttonous.
When he looks back at Ann, hoping to share a look of disgust, she’s beaming. “This is greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”
"This is literally the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen," Chris contradicts. The adults in the video are laughing as the baby lifts his head, icing coated to his pudgy cheeks, forehead, and chin. "That child is literally swimming in sugar!"
"Are you serious?" asks Ann, craning her neck to look up at him. "Chris, that’s you. This is your second birthday."
Chris blinks and glances at the TV where the child is now digging through the cake with both hands; his eyes widen. “But how-Where-”
"Your mom sent these videos."
"But that can’t be…I don’t…Oh my. I need to sit down."
Ann scratches her fingers through his hair as he collapses next to her on the couch, but the comfort is cut by her barely stifled giggles. “You know this means you can’t fight me about giving our son cake on his first birthday.”
Chris groans.
*****
Untitled 4
"So you’re leaving or dying or something?"
April leaned against the door frame of Ann’s office, the same bored expression on her face that she usually wore. “Uh-Yeah,” she agreed cautiously. “Well, thinking about it.”
"That’s stupid."
Ann rolled her eyes; she didn’t know what she expected. “Yeah,” she said, turning back toward her computer screen. “Okay. Thanks for your opinion.”
"I mean, you and Chris are lame, which pretty much guarantees that your kid is going to be super lame, so you might as well stay in this lame town."
A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Ann’s mouth as she glanced back at April. She still looked the same-crossed arms, scowl, general indifference-but Ann knew enough to read between the lines.
"I’d miss you, too, April."
"Ugh." April turned and walked out of the room, her voice echoing as she shouted, "So lame!"
Ann smiled.
*****
Sunday
The Parks Department is unlocked when Ben enters, but he hardly notices the oddity of it being open on the weekend. The lights are still off, department lit only by the sunlight spilling through the windows, and the room is silent as he heads toward Leslie’s office. He likes it here on Sunday; likes the calm and the quiet, the lack of distractions and the productivity.
Likes how it’s one thing that keeps his mind off of Leslie.
It’s cowardly, maybe. Purposefully bringing her paperwork when he knows she’s not here, just so he can avoid her for a little while longer this week. But Ben thinks he used up all that was left of his courage when he handed her a box and broke his own heart.
There’s not enough left for anything else.
And maybe it’s this jumble of thoughts that keeps him from noticing that the door is unlocked. Maybe it’s that he’s proofreading the paperwork as he walks. Maybe it’s that he just doesn’t expect another soul to be in this building on a Sunday. Whatever it is, nothing prepares him for Leslie popping up from behind her desk and greeting him loudly.
"Hey."
Ben jumps backward, nearly tripping over his own feet; luckily, his back hits the door jam and helps keep him upright. Leslie’s eyes widen in concern, and he tries to downplay the fact that she just scared him half to death. “Oh hey,” he says, crossing his arms in an attempt to seem casual.
"Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you."
"I was just surprised," he lies. What is she doing here? “I, uh, I thought you were camping this weekend.”
"I was. We just got back an hour ago."
"Oh." It’s obvious, he realizes, now that his heart rate has slowed and he’s actually looking at her. She’s still wearing her Pawnee Goddesses vest, her hair pulled back, smudges of dirt on the knees of her jeans.
Of course.
Leslie is the only person on earth who would return from a weekend of camping and come straight into work.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
"Oh-Uh, you know. Work."
"Uh-huh."
He falters, waiting for her to ask him another question, but she just smiles like she expects that he has a grasp on this situation. All he can think about is how this is the first time they’ve been alone together since they broke up, and how he can’t seem to remember how to talk to her, and how she looks so, so pretty bathed in the afternoon light coming through the window.
This is entirely unfair, he thinks. The only reason he even came into work on a Sunday was to avoid her.
Her smile falls, uncertainty clouding her eyes, and Ben swallows. He needs to get out of here. “Well,” he says, trying and failing to smile reassuringly. He waves the paperwork in his hands, slightly wrinkled now from his grip, and nods toward her desk. “I was, uh, just dropping this off, actually.”
"Okay."
They stare at one another for another prolonged moment, stuck in a silence so stifling that Ben wishes he could disappear. In the gamut of emotions he’s experienced since knowing Leslie, suffocating awkwardness has never been part of the mix.
He needs to get out of here.
"Do you-"
"Well-"
They step toward each other simultaneously, synchronous in midst the unnatural tension between them. Ben laughs, nervously, and holds out the paperwork toward her. “Here,” he says quietly. They’re close enough now that he can see the the more delicate features of her face: the exact color of her eyes and the palest smattering of freckles on her nose. He drops his eyes, focusing on the brightly colored patches on her vest rather than the few loose curls of hair framing her face.
"Was it a good trip?" he hears himself ask. What the hell am I doing?
"Yeah. Mostly. I may have accidentally-on-purpose caused Ron’s entire troop to defect and join the Goddesses, but he knew that was a risk going in, right?"
He can hear the guilt in her voice, and he wants to engage; wants to fall back into this easy banter and act like everything is normal even though it’s not. But he can’t be that person for her anymore-the one who reassures her or holds her or helps her set things right.
Even if he wants to be.
His lack of response brings back that stifling silence again, and after a beat, Leslie clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, “It was good. Friendships forged, life-lessons taught, badges earned.” She taps one of the badges on her vest, and Ben’s gaze follows her finger. “The usual.”
"Prettiest eyes?" he reads. Oh god.
"Oh. That’s a placeholder," says Leslie, reaching out and finally taking the papers from his hand. Without thinking, Ben’s eyes find hers again, and his stomach turns over-in anticipation of what, he doesn’t know.
"It shouldn’t be," he says. What am I doing? “It’s true.”
Leslie bites her lip, eyes searching his face, but it’s the way she says his name that makes him break. “Ben?”
He leans in, kissing her softly. Kisses her because they’re alone and because he wants to and because of her beautiful eyes.
Kisses her because he misses her, and he can only take so much.
She sighs into his mouth, draws his bottom lip between hers as her hand fists in his shirt, and for one second, everything else fades away.
It’s Leslie who pulls back first, one hand pressed over his heart as her eyes drop, and Ben can feel his heart sink before she even speaks.
"We can’t," she says quietly. "Ben. We can’t."
No, he thinks. I can’t.
*****
Harvest Festival 2013
Ben can’t stop kissing her. At the ticket booth at the entrance. When she wins him a stuffed bear with a polka dot bow tie. Behind the first aid tent. All three times they ride the Ferris wheel. Every place he’s ever thought about kissing her at the Harvest Festival.
This is their first one together (really together; he hadn’t been able to get home last year), and Ben can’t stop thinking about three years ago-marveling at her at every turn and longing to pull her aside and kiss her just once.
He couldn’t have imagined then what his life would become; wouldn’t have believed it if someone told him.
He still marvels at her. But now when she smiles at him, eyes squinting against the bright sun, he gets to kiss the sticky cotton candy off her lips, and it is perfect.
*****
Wizard Burt Macklin Saves the Day
April tells him that his vote wouldn’t have made a difference, but Andy still feels bad that he wasn’t there for the election. Leslie’s the coolest person he knows; the kind of person who deserves to be president of Pawnee or whatever. Not the kind of person who loses her job.
He explains the whole thing to Eddie the next day at the office. They’re playing with the kittens Eddie brought him when Andy confessed he was homesick, and Andy wonders if he could send one to Leslie to cheer her up (Eddie is kind of a buzzkill about it, though maybe mailing a kitten to Pawnee isn’t the best idea). “Why don’t you mail this Jamm fellow the contents of Whisker’s litter-box instead?” Eddie suggests.
It’s a hilarious idea, but Andy’s not sure Leslie would go for it, and he wants to make her feel better, not worse. Still, they spend the rest of the morning coming up with more and more things they could mail to Jamm, and by the time April starts to text him that day, they have a pretty long list. She joins in for awhile, but by the time she texts him a picture of Leslie sleeping on a bench at work, Andy wishes he had a real plan.
It’s several hours and many beers later that Andy finally comes up with the perfect idea.
Eddie gets on board immediately and they recruit his weird cousin to tape the video. By the time he and Eddie are finished arguing about whether or not Hogwarts exists (Eddie finally gives up), April manages to send him a super unflattering picture of Jamm. It’s pretty awesome.
It takes about an hour to film. Eddie keeps messing up his American accent and he doesn’t really sound or look anything like Jamm, even with the awesome mask they made with April’s photo. And in one take, Andy accidentally knocks Eddie’s mask off when he “punches” him. But when they send the video to April to edit, she tells them that it’s perfect.
He didn’t get to vote. And he knows that it doesn’t really fix anything. But when April reports that wizard Burt Macklin kicking Jamm’s ass and saving Hogwarts makes Leslie laugh, he feels a little better.
*****
Marathon Christmas Shopping Day
Five hours in, Ben collapses on a bench, dropping the multitude of bags he’s been carrying and shaking his hands. She pauses for a second, waiting for him to regain his energy and bounce back, but he just stares at her, an odd mix of defeat and awe in his eyes.
Frowning, she pulls the candy cane from her mouth. “Ben?”
"I can’t," he says, shaking his head. "Leslie, I can’t go into another store."
"Here," she says, digging in her purse and pulling out another candy cane. "You just need a sugar boost."
"I don’t think that’s the problem."
Leslie shifts the bags she’s holding from one hand to another. Standing still like this is making her more aware of the strain, and clearly Ben doesn’t understand that perpetual motion is a key part of Christmas shopping. “Is it your shoes?” she asks. “I told you to wear sneakers.”
"No. No, Les, it’s everything. It’s hours in the mall and the heat and the crowd and the fact that I’m beginning to think that your list keeps growing rather than shrinking."
Leslie presses her lips together guiltily. “I do a lot of impulse buying,” she says. “But I always seem to forget to put someone on the initial list.”
"And that’s fine. But I just can’t do it. I can’t go into another store."
It’s hard not to giggle. In fact, it’s kind of impossible. He just sounds so dire, like the thought of moving from that bench might actually kill him.
"Are you laughing?"
"No." She shrugs. "Okay. Yes. A little. I did warn you that this is a marathon shopping day."
"I know."
"And you said it would be fun."
"I know."
Smiling, Leslie sets her bags alongside the ones he’s already dropped and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s okay,” she says. “I know you tried.”
"I really did."
She leans down and gives him a quick kiss, squeezing his shoulder as she pulls back. “So you wait right here while I finish up. It won’t be much longer.”
Ben blinks. “Seriously?”
"Shop ‘til you drop, honey." She grins, handing him the candy cane as she steps away from him. "I’m not tired at all."