Telephones and pay phone calls.
I think I know what I'm going as for Halloween, finally. This is all contingent on whether The Fools Mansion has what I need. I saw that they carried it last year and I hope they still have it in their inventory. /vagueness Scratch that, new idea.
The Super Secret Project has come out with another video. If you're from Boston and love sports, or aren't from Boston but love Boston sports, you should probably watch it. It's really catchy.
As far as Boston sports are concerned, I'm confused by the number of Red Sox fans who are suddenly saying all of these incredibly critical things about Tito and Theo. Between talk of mishandling the pitchers to Tito's supposed pill addiction, this isn't the way you send someone out. These two men helped us to secure TWO World Series titles, so perhaps you should lay off. Now Gonzo is being dragged into it with people saying he complained about his schedule and WHO THE FUCK CARES?
I am so upset. I'm so upset at Boston sports media, I really am.
My sentiments are echoes in the "footnotes" on the right hand side of this article. (And yes, the man who wrote the article was named Michael Schur for all of you Parks/Office people.)
It's back! It's back! Ghee Buttersnaps! Lassie! Shawn T.T. Spenstar!
Oh joyous, lovely, hilarious show, how I've missed you.
Tthe plot of the episode wasn't that interesting to me, but it had Malcolm McDowell who I LOVE and Lassie doing some things with a lie detector that I swear I've read about in several fanfictions. I thought they handled Shawn's admission very, very well. It was charming and it caught me off guard even if it was a little hokey.
I melted, I'll admit it.
And Lassie's protectiveness about Juliet is so adorable and sweet and somehow manages to make me love Lassie even more. That was simply charming.
I just want a Shawn hug. He seems to give such good ones!
In personal news, got some interesting updates from my doctor for which I have to go in for special tests and it's like WHAT THE FUCK. Bad news abounds lately. Can't I have a week off from illness drama? Jesus, world, bone! TOSS ME ONE. Also, I'm going to Friendly's tonight with some of my oldest ladyfriends and as they don't offer alcohol at Friendly's I'll be drinking an entire bottle of wine prior to making the trip.
Stay classy, me!
Falling (But Not Really In the Way You're Thinking), R
3000 words
Ben/Leslie, Parks and Recreation
Thanks: fairytiger for telling me that this idea was right up my alley and for her mad beta skillz. For saucydiva's prompt over at the Leslie/Ben ficathon at leslie_ben.
As though she hadn’t had a bad enough interaction with corn alcohol before. As though she couldn’t remember the vicious hangover, the tiny eagwigs who’d felt the need to tunnel new avenues through her brain for three days afterwards.
Three days.
She’d had a three day hangover.
That... was not normal. IT WASN’T NORMAL!
So it made literally no sense when-at April and Andy’s first anniversary party-she began taking shots of a very similar substance. One that she had a second or two to sense on her taste buds before they were summarily burnt off. “Oh, worst thing in the world. Liquid Hitler!”
But everyone else is doing it!
Okay, so, it’s not like she succumbs to peer pressure often or ever really but shes already had three cups of jungle juice (oh god, she’s way too old to be here) and her grasp on reality and the ability to make informed choices is pretty tenuous.
So yeah, shots of death sound like an amazing idea.
Ben does one with her, probably because he’s the only one who’s even near sober; even Jerry had managed two or three shots and had since engaged Orin in conversation. One arm around the skinny boy’s shoulders, he’d begun talking to him about how the Baby Boomers really did fuck everyone over and Leslie’s world went a little swimmy.
Not just because Jerry was waxing political but for so many reasons.
Like because she was running for City Council and whoa was getting drunk in public such a bad idea. But she’d had weeks and weeks of nonstop meetings, of next to no sleep (and not three hours sleep but forty-five minutes sleep) and of next to no sex.
More accurately, no sex at all, but that was of her own doing, so she couldn’t really complain.
Except that she really could complain because Ann was pretty drunk too and wouldn’t stop asking her how Ben’s penis was. Which was just plain rude, save for the fact that Ann had really been one of the ones pulling for she and Ben. For she to stay with Ben’s penis...
“One more!” one of the sewage guys shouted and she knew she was in trouble because she couldn’t for the life of her remember her name. Then again, she couldn’t really remember how to say no and so she took the shot along with a few other people and everyone cursed about how it seemed to be burning up their esophagi.
Leslie threw her shot glass in the vicinity of the table and then spun around, looking out over the party. An equal amount of people were split between the kitchen and the living room and why did everyone always congregate in the kitchen?
Her hand slipped over the banister as she ambled down the two stairs into the living room. “You guys,” she slung an arm around Ann’s waist. “Are so pretty and nice.”
Though Chris beamed at her, Ann had grown concerned. “Les, maybe no more shots, okay?”
“Okay, kay, yes, Ann is so beautiful and pretty Chris!” she beamed over at Chris who as aforementioned, was beaming back.
“Could you tell me?” Leslie straightened up. “Where, I mean, pray tell, Ben is? Pray tell where is Benjamin?”
Chris didn’t seem to pick upon what was happening, but as Ann leaned in to nip Leslie’s inquisition in the bud, Chris ever-so-helpfully chimed in. “Oh he went back to his room for a sweater. Have you seen his room? So tastefully decorated!”
Leslie blinked, gripped Chris’s shirtsleeve, grabbed Ann’s. “Okay, Imma, there’s a bathroom and I’m going to say hello and if you two make out...”
They both waited for her to elaborate but when she didn’t, when she stumbled off in the direction, they continued their conversation instead. More accurately-as it’s so important to be accurate in situations such as there-Chris has led Ann through to the den and had cornered her whilst all the while talking about the latest article on Acai berry in Men’s Health.
Leslie thought about how cute their babies would be and she made her way through a throng of people, managed to compose herself and speak with April’s parents for a bit and found herself in the tiny hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom.
She had just about reached teh bathroom when Ben stumbled out of his room, taking longer than necessary to shut his door.
Leslie paused, licked her lips, attempted to smooth down her hair. “Hello,” she said civilly enough.
“Oh!” his eyes lit up and Ben blinked away some of his sluggishness. “Hello, heeeeey!”
“I kindly request,” Leslie began, folding her hands in front of her, “That you do not attend functions that I’m going to be at.”
Ben scrunched up his nose as he thought about it. “But, well, one... I live here so, that’s not, you know, whatever and two, uhm, why?”
“Because,” she continued on, very haughtily, very stuffily, “Whenever I see you I want to do sexy things with you and that’s not appropriate, so you can’t be around me.”
He grinned, couldn’t help it, and took a step towards her. “I make you want to do sexy things? But if I’m not allowed around you, how can we work in the same building?”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed. She saw the logic in that one. Yep, logic, right up front. “Well,” Leslie thought and thought and got a little angry because she couldn’t think of a better solution to her problem because her head was so damned fuzzy. “Keep your stupid face and butt and all of those nice shirts and skinny ties away from my department.”
She gave him a shove. A playful shove really. If the step stool hadn’t been right behind him, it would have been fine.
Except the step stool was behind him.
And instead of taking a short stumble backwards, he pitched.
And went straight out the window.
It took a moment for Leslie to process it, but when she did, her reaction drowned out Ben’s, “Uhm, OW!”
“Shit!” she screeched and beelined for the front door, knocking people out of the way, sending Solo cups flying. She managed to make it down the stairs without tripping, but she’d drawn considerable attention in her hasty flight, and Ann, Chris and Andy had all followed her.
“You okay?” Ann asked after her.
“Gonna ralph?” Andy called.
She didn’t listen to them, instead rounding the side of the house and finding Ben, splayed on his back, half in a bush. “What the hell Leslie?”
“Why are you on the ground, Ben?” Andy asked, happily enough.
“I pushed him out the window and oh god, Ben, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it!” Leslie swayed on her feet as she desperately attempted to keep the ground from swimming beneath her.
“You pushed him... out a window?” Ann tested and glanced back and forth at Chris and Andy and then back to Leslie. “You pushed him out of a window? Okay, first question, why?”
Leslie hid her face in her hands. “It was an accident, I just went to, you know, say “Hey Ben,” and give him a little push and there was a stool and there was a window and jesus, are you hurt? Tell me you’re not hurt. Ann, is he hurt? Is he hurt Ann? Ann! Is he hurt?”
On hands and knees, Ann gave him the once-over, asked him to bend this and put pressure on that and when she gave Ben the all clear, he attempted to stand.
“So, you pushed me out of a window-”
“Yep, yeah, uh huh, I did and I’m really sorry.” She stepped forward to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but he shied away. “I think, yeah, you know what? No more of that liquid death, I think... mmm hmm, no more of that.”
Chris linked his arm through Ben’s, “You’re probably right, Leslie, how are you going to get home?”
“I’ll go grab Tom! Dude just got here!” Andy suggested and sprinted back into the house, somehow managing to keep his beer from spilling. Hopping up and down in the living room, Andy glanced around in search of Tom. Once he located him, he bounded across the room and grabbed his arm.
“Yeah, so, Leslie pushed Ben through the window in the hallway, can you take her home?” Andy slurped from his can of Pabst, but didn’t seem too concerned.
The ladies he’d been standing with gave him a questioning glance and then slinked away. “Man, why you gotta blow up my spot like that?”
“Because Ben got pushed out of a window and Leslie is really wasted and she needs a ride home,” he finished his beer and set the can down on the fireplace mantel. “And you’re the soberest one.”
“Gawwwwwwwww,” His head hung low over his chest, but he knew what he had to do.
Tom had to “pay back.”
“Fine,” and he stamped his feet all the way outside. When he rounded the corner and saw Leslie swaying and Ben with twigs in his hair, he tried not to look concerned.
“Let’s go!” Tom called over his shoulder as he pulled his car keys from his pocket.
“I’ll go too,” Ben suggested and hobbled out of Chris’s protective hold. “Think maybe Leslie and I should talk about how she pushed me out of a window.”
“Fine, but I don’t deal with puking.” Tom was inside the car with his hands folded over his chest like a petulant child; he didn’t hear Leslie’s assurance.
“No puking!”
---
They’d been in the car for at least five minutes in complete silence, Leslie in the passenger seat, Ben in the back.
Tom was the first to break the silence, the need for an explanation outweighing his annoyance at the two of them. “So what’d he do, Les?”
“Hm, wha? Oh, nothing, I just shoved him, a little and there was this stool and he tripped and-”
“I fell out of a window,” Ben piped in, still a little ticked, still very drunk.
Tom rolled his eyes, took a right onto Maple, “Right, okay, yeah, but what did he say to you to make you shove him?”
“Nothing!” Leslie swore.
“She didn’t say anything, she just pushed,” Ben lied, because she had said some stuff, some very important stuff but stuff that Tom wasn’t allowed to hear.
Leslie huffed. “Oh, get over it!” she yelled.
“Yeah, eff this,” Tom said and took a sharp right, pulling onto the Interstate.
“Where are we going? And don’t take turns like that I get all gross inside, pukey gross...” Leslie said.
A moment later, he pulled off, into a plaza where the only thing that seemed to be open was a Waffle House. Tom threw the car into park and turned to address the both of them.
“I’m just going to go inside and get us some, you know, chicken sandwiches, and soda and sober everyone up a bit. So... no puking!” Tom says and slammed the door of his Mazda Miata before either one of them could get a word in.
“You gonna puke?” Ben asks, his words a bit slurred. “Cuz if you’re gonna puke-”
“You’re gonna puke!” Leslie said and cackled, waving her head back and forth on the headrest dramatically as she laughed. “Your stupid face is gonna puke and it’s gonna be stupid!”
“Is that why you pushed me out of a window, because I have a stupid face?” Ben asked her, and her smile fell. Her smile fell right into a pout which suddenly morphed into a straight line of anger.
“Leslie are you... you are mad at me. Why are you mad at me?” Ben squinted his eyes and blinked at her. He also licked his lips because as it turns out, drinking copious grain alcohol dehydrated humans.
Go figure.
“Go figure,” Leslie said aloud, though she didn’t know why. “You’re figure is stupid too. Maybe stop skinny. Skinnying. Stop being so skinny!” she mumbled at him, eyes still closed. “S’why I can’t be around you.”
Ben’s lips twisted into a confused mask. “Why are you-”
“I miss you, duh. I miss you because you’re warm and I’m cold when I sleep and you have nice hair and are smart and say nice things.” She’d found the power to swivel around from the front seat, leaning on the center console. “And I miss your penis.”
“My penis?”
“You’re dumb,” Leslie burped. “I miss the sex. I miss the having sex with you.”
“Kay...”
“Because it was good, maybe the best with you,” Leslie paused, seemed to lose every thought that had been in her head and sobered up for a moment. “Take off your pants!”
Ben dug his fingers into the seat cushions. “I can’t take off my pants.”
“Uh huh, you can,” Leslie snuffled her knees up onto the passenger seat and looked down at him, her cheeks red, her lips slightly parted. “The pants, Wyatt, they have to come off.”
“Leslie, don’t be-” But she was already struggling into the backseat, splaying out over his lap when her knees slipped off the console. “In my lap, don’t be in my lap, s’bad.”
“I went to Indiana State and I’m smart and I think I know that this is a smart thing,” she ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and popped up for a second, glancing out the window. She had to look out with her right eye closed, but Tom was in a super long line with what seemed to be people just as drunk as they were.
Thank god he had his iPhone and didn’t notice that the line was being serviced by a singular person, didn’t glance back at the car.
“Tom’s out there and we’re fine so shhhhh!”
Ben nodded as though everything made sense. “Wait, wait, no, Leslie, you pushed me out of a window!”
Leslie blinked and pulled back a bit, considering. “Sorry. I blame Ron.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm,” the way she pursed her lips made him lick his.’
“Okay then, me too.”
Her hands were at his belt buckle and she’d slid liquidly to the floor and was now glancing up at him under hooded eyelids. “Pants, good sir.”
“Leslie...”
She rolled her eyes and went to work on his belt. “I never had to work this hard to get in a guy’s pants before!” Her face contorted as she struggled against the metal and the leather and fumbled with the button on his khakis, sliding the zipper hastily down.
“Okay,” Ben said, smacking his lips again because dear lord he was drunk. He never should have come along for the ride, never should have run into her in the hallway, never should have been at the house during the party in the first place. “Okay, you have to-”
And to say it was too late was an understatement.
Leslie had her mouth wrapped around him in the backseat of Tom’s car and really? He was pretty powerless to stop it.
Ben’s head slammed against the backseat and his eyes snapped closed. Yes, he missed this. He missed Leslie over all, missed everything about her, but if he was to get down to the nitty-gritty, if he was to really think about it, dear god did he miss her giving him head.
He could feel her smiling around him as she slid her lips up and down his length. His fingers instinctively tangled in her hair, not guiding her, just holding, allowing the locks to flow through his fingers.
Cracking one eye open, he glanced out the window and though his vision was blurry, was just able to make out Tom, two people from the front of the line. They had four, five minutes, tops.
Ben tried to make his mouth work to tell her to, you know, hurry it up (though, how rude was that) but couldn’t seem to manage; a few, indiscernible gurgles escaped.
When she brought her hand into the mix, well, all was lost. Ben gritted his teeth together, tightening his grip on Leslie’s hair. “Lah, leh, Les-”
“Mmmmm hmmm,” she hummed against him and the vibrations caused him to see stars.
His hips shuddered and his jaw clenched and with one last lick, he fell back into the seat, boneless. His hands shook as he cracked an eyelid and pushed the hair back out of her face. With a dry mouth, Ben croaked, “I miss you.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back and shifted so she could look up more fully at him.
“And not just because of that,” he added and as delicately as he could, righted his clothing. “Because, it’s more than that, it’s...”
“What?” she crouched and drunkenly fell back into the front seat, turning on her knees so she could look back at Ben.
“It’s because I lo-”
“Chicken sandwiches, no mayo. There’s ketchup in the bag,” Tom said as he threw open the door and handed in a tray full of sodas.
Leslie dropped her eyes.
Ben smoothed down the front of his pants.
Tom took a soda from the tray. “What’d I miss? There was no puking, right?”
“No,” they said flatly, in unison.
“Good,” Tom started the car and put it into drive. “How you feelin’, Benjamin Button?”
He reached forward and took a soda. “Sore.”
“Well, duh, that’s to be expected, you did get pushed out of a window.”
“Yeah,” Ben replied, smirking. He didn’t say a thing for the rest of the drive to Leslie’s house.
The Super Secret Project has come out with another video. If you're from Boston and love sports, or aren't from Boston but love Boston sports, you should probably watch it. It's really catchy.
As far as Boston sports are concerned, I'm confused by the number of Red Sox fans who are suddenly saying all of these incredibly critical things about Tito and Theo. Between talk of mishandling the pitchers to Tito's supposed pill addiction, this isn't the way you send someone out. These two men helped us to secure TWO World Series titles, so perhaps you should lay off. Now Gonzo is being dragged into it with people saying he complained about his schedule and WHO THE FUCK CARES?
I am so upset. I'm so upset at Boston sports media, I really am.
My sentiments are echoes in the "footnotes" on the right hand side of this article. (And yes, the man who wrote the article was named Michael Schur for all of you Parks/Office people.)
It's back! It's back! Ghee Buttersnaps! Lassie! Shawn T.T. Spenstar!
Oh joyous, lovely, hilarious show, how I've missed you.
Tthe plot of the episode wasn't that interesting to me, but it had Malcolm McDowell who I LOVE and Lassie doing some things with a lie detector that I swear I've read about in several fanfictions. I thought they handled Shawn's admission very, very well. It was charming and it caught me off guard even if it was a little hokey.
I melted, I'll admit it.
And Lassie's protectiveness about Juliet is so adorable and sweet and somehow manages to make me love Lassie even more. That was simply charming.
I just want a Shawn hug. He seems to give such good ones!
In personal news, got some interesting updates from my doctor for which I have to go in for special tests and it's like WHAT THE FUCK. Bad news abounds lately. Can't I have a week off from illness drama? Jesus, world, bone! TOSS ME ONE. Also, I'm going to Friendly's tonight with some of my oldest ladyfriends and as they don't offer alcohol at Friendly's I'll be drinking an entire bottle of wine prior to making the trip.
Stay classy, me!
Falling (But Not Really In the Way You're Thinking), R
3000 words
Ben/Leslie, Parks and Recreation
Thanks: fairytiger for telling me that this idea was right up my alley and for her mad beta skillz. For saucydiva's prompt over at the Leslie/Ben ficathon at leslie_ben.
As though she hadn’t had a bad enough interaction with corn alcohol before. As though she couldn’t remember the vicious hangover, the tiny eagwigs who’d felt the need to tunnel new avenues through her brain for three days afterwards.
Three days.
She’d had a three day hangover.
That... was not normal. IT WASN’T NORMAL!
So it made literally no sense when-at April and Andy’s first anniversary party-she began taking shots of a very similar substance. One that she had a second or two to sense on her taste buds before they were summarily burnt off. “Oh, worst thing in the world. Liquid Hitler!”
But everyone else is doing it!
Okay, so, it’s not like she succumbs to peer pressure often or ever really but shes already had three cups of jungle juice (oh god, she’s way too old to be here) and her grasp on reality and the ability to make informed choices is pretty tenuous.
So yeah, shots of death sound like an amazing idea.
Ben does one with her, probably because he’s the only one who’s even near sober; even Jerry had managed two or three shots and had since engaged Orin in conversation. One arm around the skinny boy’s shoulders, he’d begun talking to him about how the Baby Boomers really did fuck everyone over and Leslie’s world went a little swimmy.
Not just because Jerry was waxing political but for so many reasons.
Like because she was running for City Council and whoa was getting drunk in public such a bad idea. But she’d had weeks and weeks of nonstop meetings, of next to no sleep (and not three hours sleep but forty-five minutes sleep) and of next to no sex.
More accurately, no sex at all, but that was of her own doing, so she couldn’t really complain.
Except that she really could complain because Ann was pretty drunk too and wouldn’t stop asking her how Ben’s penis was. Which was just plain rude, save for the fact that Ann had really been one of the ones pulling for she and Ben. For she to stay with Ben’s penis...
“One more!” one of the sewage guys shouted and she knew she was in trouble because she couldn’t for the life of her remember her name. Then again, she couldn’t really remember how to say no and so she took the shot along with a few other people and everyone cursed about how it seemed to be burning up their esophagi.
Leslie threw her shot glass in the vicinity of the table and then spun around, looking out over the party. An equal amount of people were split between the kitchen and the living room and why did everyone always congregate in the kitchen?
Her hand slipped over the banister as she ambled down the two stairs into the living room. “You guys,” she slung an arm around Ann’s waist. “Are so pretty and nice.”
Though Chris beamed at her, Ann had grown concerned. “Les, maybe no more shots, okay?”
“Okay, kay, yes, Ann is so beautiful and pretty Chris!” she beamed over at Chris who as aforementioned, was beaming back.
“Could you tell me?” Leslie straightened up. “Where, I mean, pray tell, Ben is? Pray tell where is Benjamin?”
Chris didn’t seem to pick upon what was happening, but as Ann leaned in to nip Leslie’s inquisition in the bud, Chris ever-so-helpfully chimed in. “Oh he went back to his room for a sweater. Have you seen his room? So tastefully decorated!”
Leslie blinked, gripped Chris’s shirtsleeve, grabbed Ann’s. “Okay, Imma, there’s a bathroom and I’m going to say hello and if you two make out...”
They both waited for her to elaborate but when she didn’t, when she stumbled off in the direction, they continued their conversation instead. More accurately-as it’s so important to be accurate in situations such as there-Chris has led Ann through to the den and had cornered her whilst all the while talking about the latest article on Acai berry in Men’s Health.
Leslie thought about how cute their babies would be and she made her way through a throng of people, managed to compose herself and speak with April’s parents for a bit and found herself in the tiny hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom.
She had just about reached teh bathroom when Ben stumbled out of his room, taking longer than necessary to shut his door.
Leslie paused, licked her lips, attempted to smooth down her hair. “Hello,” she said civilly enough.
“Oh!” his eyes lit up and Ben blinked away some of his sluggishness. “Hello, heeeeey!”
“I kindly request,” Leslie began, folding her hands in front of her, “That you do not attend functions that I’m going to be at.”
Ben scrunched up his nose as he thought about it. “But, well, one... I live here so, that’s not, you know, whatever and two, uhm, why?”
“Because,” she continued on, very haughtily, very stuffily, “Whenever I see you I want to do sexy things with you and that’s not appropriate, so you can’t be around me.”
He grinned, couldn’t help it, and took a step towards her. “I make you want to do sexy things? But if I’m not allowed around you, how can we work in the same building?”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed. She saw the logic in that one. Yep, logic, right up front. “Well,” Leslie thought and thought and got a little angry because she couldn’t think of a better solution to her problem because her head was so damned fuzzy. “Keep your stupid face and butt and all of those nice shirts and skinny ties away from my department.”
She gave him a shove. A playful shove really. If the step stool hadn’t been right behind him, it would have been fine.
Except the step stool was behind him.
And instead of taking a short stumble backwards, he pitched.
And went straight out the window.
It took a moment for Leslie to process it, but when she did, her reaction drowned out Ben’s, “Uhm, OW!”
“Shit!” she screeched and beelined for the front door, knocking people out of the way, sending Solo cups flying. She managed to make it down the stairs without tripping, but she’d drawn considerable attention in her hasty flight, and Ann, Chris and Andy had all followed her.
“You okay?” Ann asked after her.
“Gonna ralph?” Andy called.
She didn’t listen to them, instead rounding the side of the house and finding Ben, splayed on his back, half in a bush. “What the hell Leslie?”
“Why are you on the ground, Ben?” Andy asked, happily enough.
“I pushed him out the window and oh god, Ben, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it!” Leslie swayed on her feet as she desperately attempted to keep the ground from swimming beneath her.
“You pushed him... out a window?” Ann tested and glanced back and forth at Chris and Andy and then back to Leslie. “You pushed him out of a window? Okay, first question, why?”
Leslie hid her face in her hands. “It was an accident, I just went to, you know, say “Hey Ben,” and give him a little push and there was a stool and there was a window and jesus, are you hurt? Tell me you’re not hurt. Ann, is he hurt? Is he hurt Ann? Ann! Is he hurt?”
On hands and knees, Ann gave him the once-over, asked him to bend this and put pressure on that and when she gave Ben the all clear, he attempted to stand.
“So, you pushed me out of a window-”
“Yep, yeah, uh huh, I did and I’m really sorry.” She stepped forward to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but he shied away. “I think, yeah, you know what? No more of that liquid death, I think... mmm hmm, no more of that.”
Chris linked his arm through Ben’s, “You’re probably right, Leslie, how are you going to get home?”
“I’ll go grab Tom! Dude just got here!” Andy suggested and sprinted back into the house, somehow managing to keep his beer from spilling. Hopping up and down in the living room, Andy glanced around in search of Tom. Once he located him, he bounded across the room and grabbed his arm.
“Yeah, so, Leslie pushed Ben through the window in the hallway, can you take her home?” Andy slurped from his can of Pabst, but didn’t seem too concerned.
The ladies he’d been standing with gave him a questioning glance and then slinked away. “Man, why you gotta blow up my spot like that?”
“Because Ben got pushed out of a window and Leslie is really wasted and she needs a ride home,” he finished his beer and set the can down on the fireplace mantel. “And you’re the soberest one.”
“Gawwwwwwwww,” His head hung low over his chest, but he knew what he had to do.
Tom had to “pay back.”
“Fine,” and he stamped his feet all the way outside. When he rounded the corner and saw Leslie swaying and Ben with twigs in his hair, he tried not to look concerned.
“Let’s go!” Tom called over his shoulder as he pulled his car keys from his pocket.
“I’ll go too,” Ben suggested and hobbled out of Chris’s protective hold. “Think maybe Leslie and I should talk about how she pushed me out of a window.”
“Fine, but I don’t deal with puking.” Tom was inside the car with his hands folded over his chest like a petulant child; he didn’t hear Leslie’s assurance.
“No puking!”
---
They’d been in the car for at least five minutes in complete silence, Leslie in the passenger seat, Ben in the back.
Tom was the first to break the silence, the need for an explanation outweighing his annoyance at the two of them. “So what’d he do, Les?”
“Hm, wha? Oh, nothing, I just shoved him, a little and there was this stool and he tripped and-”
“I fell out of a window,” Ben piped in, still a little ticked, still very drunk.
Tom rolled his eyes, took a right onto Maple, “Right, okay, yeah, but what did he say to you to make you shove him?”
“Nothing!” Leslie swore.
“She didn’t say anything, she just pushed,” Ben lied, because she had said some stuff, some very important stuff but stuff that Tom wasn’t allowed to hear.
Leslie huffed. “Oh, get over it!” she yelled.
“Yeah, eff this,” Tom said and took a sharp right, pulling onto the Interstate.
“Where are we going? And don’t take turns like that I get all gross inside, pukey gross...” Leslie said.
A moment later, he pulled off, into a plaza where the only thing that seemed to be open was a Waffle House. Tom threw the car into park and turned to address the both of them.
“I’m just going to go inside and get us some, you know, chicken sandwiches, and soda and sober everyone up a bit. So... no puking!” Tom says and slammed the door of his Mazda Miata before either one of them could get a word in.
“You gonna puke?” Ben asks, his words a bit slurred. “Cuz if you’re gonna puke-”
“You’re gonna puke!” Leslie said and cackled, waving her head back and forth on the headrest dramatically as she laughed. “Your stupid face is gonna puke and it’s gonna be stupid!”
“Is that why you pushed me out of a window, because I have a stupid face?” Ben asked her, and her smile fell. Her smile fell right into a pout which suddenly morphed into a straight line of anger.
“Leslie are you... you are mad at me. Why are you mad at me?” Ben squinted his eyes and blinked at her. He also licked his lips because as it turns out, drinking copious grain alcohol dehydrated humans.
Go figure.
“Go figure,” Leslie said aloud, though she didn’t know why. “You’re figure is stupid too. Maybe stop skinny. Skinnying. Stop being so skinny!” she mumbled at him, eyes still closed. “S’why I can’t be around you.”
Ben’s lips twisted into a confused mask. “Why are you-”
“I miss you, duh. I miss you because you’re warm and I’m cold when I sleep and you have nice hair and are smart and say nice things.” She’d found the power to swivel around from the front seat, leaning on the center console. “And I miss your penis.”
“My penis?”
“You’re dumb,” Leslie burped. “I miss the sex. I miss the having sex with you.”
“Kay...”
“Because it was good, maybe the best with you,” Leslie paused, seemed to lose every thought that had been in her head and sobered up for a moment. “Take off your pants!”
Ben dug his fingers into the seat cushions. “I can’t take off my pants.”
“Uh huh, you can,” Leslie snuffled her knees up onto the passenger seat and looked down at him, her cheeks red, her lips slightly parted. “The pants, Wyatt, they have to come off.”
“Leslie, don’t be-” But she was already struggling into the backseat, splaying out over his lap when her knees slipped off the console. “In my lap, don’t be in my lap, s’bad.”
“I went to Indiana State and I’m smart and I think I know that this is a smart thing,” she ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and popped up for a second, glancing out the window. She had to look out with her right eye closed, but Tom was in a super long line with what seemed to be people just as drunk as they were.
Thank god he had his iPhone and didn’t notice that the line was being serviced by a singular person, didn’t glance back at the car.
“Tom’s out there and we’re fine so shhhhh!”
Ben nodded as though everything made sense. “Wait, wait, no, Leslie, you pushed me out of a window!”
Leslie blinked and pulled back a bit, considering. “Sorry. I blame Ron.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm,” the way she pursed her lips made him lick his.’
“Okay then, me too.”
Her hands were at his belt buckle and she’d slid liquidly to the floor and was now glancing up at him under hooded eyelids. “Pants, good sir.”
“Leslie...”
She rolled her eyes and went to work on his belt. “I never had to work this hard to get in a guy’s pants before!” Her face contorted as she struggled against the metal and the leather and fumbled with the button on his khakis, sliding the zipper hastily down.
“Okay,” Ben said, smacking his lips again because dear lord he was drunk. He never should have come along for the ride, never should have run into her in the hallway, never should have been at the house during the party in the first place. “Okay, you have to-”
And to say it was too late was an understatement.
Leslie had her mouth wrapped around him in the backseat of Tom’s car and really? He was pretty powerless to stop it.
Ben’s head slammed against the backseat and his eyes snapped closed. Yes, he missed this. He missed Leslie over all, missed everything about her, but if he was to get down to the nitty-gritty, if he was to really think about it, dear god did he miss her giving him head.
He could feel her smiling around him as she slid her lips up and down his length. His fingers instinctively tangled in her hair, not guiding her, just holding, allowing the locks to flow through his fingers.
Cracking one eye open, he glanced out the window and though his vision was blurry, was just able to make out Tom, two people from the front of the line. They had four, five minutes, tops.
Ben tried to make his mouth work to tell her to, you know, hurry it up (though, how rude was that) but couldn’t seem to manage; a few, indiscernible gurgles escaped.
When she brought her hand into the mix, well, all was lost. Ben gritted his teeth together, tightening his grip on Leslie’s hair. “Lah, leh, Les-”
“Mmmmm hmmm,” she hummed against him and the vibrations caused him to see stars.
His hips shuddered and his jaw clenched and with one last lick, he fell back into the seat, boneless. His hands shook as he cracked an eyelid and pushed the hair back out of her face. With a dry mouth, Ben croaked, “I miss you.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back and shifted so she could look up more fully at him.
“And not just because of that,” he added and as delicately as he could, righted his clothing. “Because, it’s more than that, it’s...”
“What?” she crouched and drunkenly fell back into the front seat, turning on her knees so she could look back at Ben.
“It’s because I lo-”
“Chicken sandwiches, no mayo. There’s ketchup in the bag,” Tom said as he threw open the door and handed in a tray full of sodas.
Leslie dropped her eyes.
Ben smoothed down the front of his pants.
Tom took a soda from the tray. “What’d I miss? There was no puking, right?”
“No,” they said flatly, in unison.
“Good,” Tom started the car and put it into drive. “How you feelin’, Benjamin Button?”
He reached forward and took a soda. “Sore.”
“Well, duh, that’s to be expected, you did get pushed out of a window.”
“Yeah,” Ben replied, smirking. He didn’t say a thing for the rest of the drive to Leslie’s house.