One Hundred Percent Reporting
One Hundred Percent Reporting, pg-13
2500 words
Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Thanks: Caitlin, Amy, Caity. I daresay I'm back, if only for a moment. :::knocks on wood:::
"Election Daaaaaaaay!" he shouted excitedly, waving his jazz hands for all he was worth.
“No, we’re just going to have a sexy evening in.”
One would assume that that statement was in response to a request to go out to dinner with friends or perhaps a polite way for a couple to decline an invitation to a bar or club. If you thought that Leslie Knope was responding to either of these two requests on behalf of herself and her fiance, you would be wholly incorrect.
“So what are you doing for the election, then?” Ann asked excitedly, popping a baby carrot into her mouth with the excitement and gusto of a political junkie. Leslie was so, so happy she’d rubbed off on her friend in this regard and mentally gave herself a solid pat on the back for making that transition. “If it’s going to be so sexy?”
“Well,” Leslie began, wanting to pull out her iPhone in order to show Ann the flowchart she’d somehow managed to construct in ‘Notes.’ “Let’s say it’s going to involve some nice red wine, three televisions so we can simultaneously watch CNN, MSNBC and Fox, some nice white wine dyed blue with food coloring and a pizza in the shape of the United States.” Eyes wide with excitement and she spine as straight as an arrow, Leslie sat proud in her election night planning capacity.
Ann had a hearty laugh at that, taking a guzzle of her water until her soundless chuckled petered out. “Wait, you’re-” and yes, she realized that Leslie wasn’t joking. Leslie wasn’t even close to joking. “Les, do you ever think that maybe you go a little overboard? ...that wine thing sounds disgusting.”
“It’s flavorless and also, of course not Ann, this is going to be perfect! I mean, Gino’s says they can handle the pizza though they want the corner of Oak and Elm zoned for their food truck so I’m going to pull some strings and oh, the best part, peppers where the capitals are!” Leslie stole one of Ann’s carrots, thought better of it and tossed it back into the bag. “And a black olive for D.C., because Ben loves olives and I think-”
They both finished the sentence. “Olives suck.”
Ann’s eyes reduced to slits, munching on a carrot thoughtfully. “How big is the pizza?”
“You know, I hadn’t really asked...” Leslie made a note in her phone to find that out. Damn, she really hoped that Ben’s car was big enough.
---
Alright, so perhaps the white board had been a bit ambitious; she’d had to bungee cord it to the top of her Volkswagen Jetta (stopping numerous times along the way to recenter it for it failed to threaten to obscure her windshield. It wouldn’t do if she drove off the side of the road because the white board she’d borrowed (well no one had been around to borrow it from, but she had left a note) from the School Board had come undone to cause her untimely demise.
When she arrived home, Ben’s Subaru was in the driveway, far enough on the right of the drive so that she little compact could fit comfortably. She exited the car and left the white board for later; in the backseat she retrieved the dozen cupcakes she had ordered and the tote bag filled with bottles of wine.
Leslie was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement; her ‘I Voted!’ sticker in a state of prominence on her lapel directly next to her ‘Women For Obama’ pin, she made her way up the front steps of her house and managed to knock at the door with her forehead.
It took a moment but when Ben threw the door open, it was with a breathless grin and open arms. “Election daaaaaaay!” he shouted excitedly, waving his jazz hands for all he was worth.
“Election daaaaay!” she shouted back and thrust out her elbows. “Help me with this please.” Ben dutifully took the bundles out and off of Leslie’s arms whilst shooting a dubious glance at the monstrosity atop Leslie’s car. He kicked the door closed behind him and followed Leslie into the living room.
She noted the enormous, flat cardboard box on the coffee table. “Is that...!?” Her voice held a note of enormous wonder, oh man she had been waiting for this.
Ben rapped his fingers against the box. “Yeah, I had to put down the back seat in my car and angle it upwards from the east to the west, so California might be a bit squished.”
Her head shook vehemently, “No Ben, you can’t squish California! If we enrage them and they secede... Ben, they could be a self-sustaining country! Do you know anything about California at all!?”
“Okay, well, it’s a pizza and not the actual state so I think it’ll be alright.” Ben opened the box slightly and the scent of warm cheese and fragrant sauce tickled their noses. Leslie reached in as though to grab a piece and then pulled back.
The side of her lip twisted in worry, “Okay, we’re going to town on that and not cutting out the actual states right? Because Delaware would be a bitch.”
“Yeah, no, we’re just going to dive into that thing with no regard for state lines.” Ben bounced a bit on the balls of his feet and then clapped his hands together in a very Leslie-esque manner. “Alright, polls close in an hour and I’ve built a fire... even though it’s not really cold enough out and the lights are dimmed and I’ve checked all of Nate Silver’s predictions lined up on the cork board so we can call that as well-”
“God, you have such a crush on Nate Silver,” Leslie whispered and nosed into his neck. “That is so hot.”
Ben chuckled and bent to drop a kiss at her hairline, “Statistics are my jam baby, what can I say?”
Leslie went a little boneless and Ben wrapped a caring arm around her waist. She torqued her neck back as far as it would go, her hair splaying out. “Ahhh, I shouldn’t find that so hot but I doooo.”
There was a burst of laughter from Ben followed by a burst of laughter from James Carville on the television that was set up on the floor next to the fireplace, just far enough away not to melt. Both of their attention was sucked immediately to CNN and though their arms were twined around one another, it was like they were in another world.
“I think I’m getting sexually confused?” Ben tugged at the woman in his arms, bouncing her against his chest. “Because I think I’m also attracted to James Carville?”
“Well, how can you not be? He’s as bipartisan as they come, married to Mary Matalin. And he worked for Bill and that’s just, that’s the biggest turn on ever.”
“You and Bill Clinton close, then? Going by first names?” His tone was droll, but he pulled her in and nuzzled her close.
Leslie rolled her eyes and wriggled out of his circle of arms. “Alright, I need to change out of this skirt and put on some pajama pants so you can, you know, take them off later. No easy access to the Knope Vault until the election is officially called.”
“Worst name for your vagina ever.”
---
“Soooo, Les, I got the white board in and-” It was set up in between the hallway and the living room, completing the room in its ‘politics from all sides’ treatment. Fox news played on the modest flat screen that Ben has dragged over from Andy and April’s, MSNBC on the fifty-inch box television that Leslie just couldn’t part with because her aunt had given it to her mother and her mother had given it to her back when she moved into her house and CNN was on Leslie’s more modern flatscreen that she’d managed to picture-in-picture so that she could see Anderson Cooper twice in the same screen.
Leslie appeared back in the room in her comfiest pants, fluffy socks and Hillary 2008’ sweatshirt that was so threadbare that she had to wear a tank top underneath just to remain decent. “Yeah, what?”
“Did you outline the United States in permanent marker?”
“Had to, otherwise when we colored in the states the borders would run, oh, yeah, now I see what you’re talking about. I’ll just... replace it... before the school board even notices it’s gone. They can’t cost much, right?”
“Ehm, ones that large are like, three hundred dollars?”
“Oh god, alright, well,” Leslie huffed and began opening the wine, “That sucks but, this is important! I’ll suck it up! Small price to pay for the democratic process!” A cork popped with a certain amount of volume and Ben jumped.
“You really going to put blue food coloring in it?” came his skeptical inquiry. “Because I’m not drinking that.”
“Right, whatever, it’s flavorless and this is delicious chardonnay and you’re wrong so you’re wrong.” Leslie squeezed a significant amount of ‘cornflower’ into the bottle, pressed her hand to the bottle opening and shook it around. “Yes! Liberal wine.”
Pulling her hand off of the bottle, she licked her palm clean. Ben watched her, blinked, took a moment before he was sure his voice would work properly.
“I’m going to stick with the conservative wine because I like zinfandels and it’s delicious and it’s not a strange color.” Plucking up the bottle, he read the back of the label as though he knew something, anything at all about wine.
Leslie’s lips were already turning blue; she’d taken one sip. “It’s not strange, and oooh, what if we poured them together and made a wine in the spirit of bipartisanship?.”
“Okay no because that’s disgusting and you look like you’re drinking a cocktail from Chili’s.” He poured himself a glass and then crossed to settle on the couch. “You ready?”
“So ready.”
“Polls on the east coast close in three-”
They counted out together, “Two, one.”
---
The Northeast had gone completely blue which was no surprised but had excited them both. They colored in all of the states according to CNN’s prediction, but didn’t fill them in until they polls had officially closed in the east. Leslie got to color Illinois blue and took her time streaking the marker evenly through the state.
By the time they called the Connecticut senate race, Leslie had been pretty tipsy. In fact, she had foregone the wine glass entirely and instead drank straight from the bottle that was currently nestled safely between her knees. Her left shoulder rested heavily against Ben’s chest, effectively incapacitating him. “How is Florida not... how is Florida this close? I can’t, I don’t...”
She stood on only slightly wobbly legs and crossed to the white board, coloring in Wisconsin, fudging the lines a little bit. “You get Colorado,” she thrust the blue, dry erase marker at him.
Ben snatched it up with gusto. “Nate’s spot on, thus far, just so you know,” he taunted and sat back down on the couch. Admiring the board, Ben noticed a small section of Pennsylvania that he’d missed. “Color in Philadelphia, would you?”
Leslie did so, methodically and then curled her lips into a frown and spun back around to face him. “You like him so much you should, you know, marry him.”
“I would but my mom would kill me if I married a Jewish guy.” Leslie laughed and flung herself back against him on the couch. “‘Sides, I’m marrying you.”
“Damn right you are, and don’t you forget it!” Waving her right hand in the air, she pointed to the engagement ring. It caught the light from the fire and she sat there, indulging in a bit of admiration.
They turned their attention to the cupcakes, having already done a sizeable amount of damage to the west coast of the United States pizza; Ben had already plucked up the District and eaten it somehow with a finality that left Leslie feeling a bit giddy.
Leslie grinned as she assessed her cupcake and peeled off the waxy wrapper.
Half of the reason they worked, Leslie was sure was that Ben was a ‘cake’ cupcake man, while Leslie was much more a ‘frosting’ person. She’d rip off the bottom of her cupcake and squish it atop Ben’s so as to have a more equal frosting-to-cake ratio. True, this meant she went through more cupcakes that way, but Ben never said no to her, matched her confection for confection.
Just one of the reasons why they were so good together. And this, this love of politics, city, state and national. This too wound them together, their love for the democratic process. Leslie body slunk more firmly into Ben’s side, her need to eliminate all space between them making is slightly difficult for them to eat. They somehow managed three cakes each, wrapped around each other as on screen, CNN called the Massachusetts senate race for Elizabeth Warren.
“Yessss,” Leslie hissed and sat straight up on the sofa, Ben following. “That was key,” she said. “Ladies getting things done.”
Ben’s gaze remained on Leslie’s face as she watched the MSNBC commentators discuss the historic victory. “Ladies getting things done indeed.” And his lips found the pulse point on her neck and sucked gently.
Immediately, she went boneless. “Oh, oh god, think... do you think we have time for a quickie?”
“Should have kept your skirt on,” came Ben’s salaciously reply as he spread her against the couch and got her off to John King explaining the the way the counties in Ohio were currently voting on his enormous “Magic Wall.”
---
They dressed, but only barely. Leslie tossed her sweatshirt and underwear back on and Ben his boxers, the air in the living room more than pleasantly warm from the fire. Fingers tickled around her belly button while she settled her left hand behind her on his thigh.
Ben said nothing of the fact that he’s relieved that the ads are going to be over. Leslie didn’t have words to describe how happy she was that Claire McCaskill won the senate race in Missouri. So, they didn’t say anything at all for quite some time.
They watched as first Fox called the election for Obama and then MSNBC called it; they waited with bated breath for CNN to catch up with the rest of the gang. And then they called it, Ben just squeezed Leslie tighter, nuzzled his face into the back of her neck as he felt her release what felt like ages of pent up breath.
“You know, if I hadn’t proposed to you before, I’d do it right now, right this instant,” Ben smeared into her neck, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist.
Leslie laughed hysterically and shimmied herself around on the couch to face him. “No harm in doing it again.”
Ben grinned, “Marry me?”
“Hmmmm,” Leslie hummed. “Yep.”
2500 words
Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Thanks: Caitlin, Amy, Caity. I daresay I'm back, if only for a moment. :::knocks on wood:::
"Election Daaaaaaaay!" he shouted excitedly, waving his jazz hands for all he was worth.
“No, we’re just going to have a sexy evening in.”
One would assume that that statement was in response to a request to go out to dinner with friends or perhaps a polite way for a couple to decline an invitation to a bar or club. If you thought that Leslie Knope was responding to either of these two requests on behalf of herself and her fiance, you would be wholly incorrect.
“So what are you doing for the election, then?” Ann asked excitedly, popping a baby carrot into her mouth with the excitement and gusto of a political junkie. Leslie was so, so happy she’d rubbed off on her friend in this regard and mentally gave herself a solid pat on the back for making that transition. “If it’s going to be so sexy?”
“Well,” Leslie began, wanting to pull out her iPhone in order to show Ann the flowchart she’d somehow managed to construct in ‘Notes.’ “Let’s say it’s going to involve some nice red wine, three televisions so we can simultaneously watch CNN, MSNBC and Fox, some nice white wine dyed blue with food coloring and a pizza in the shape of the United States.” Eyes wide with excitement and she spine as straight as an arrow, Leslie sat proud in her election night planning capacity.
Ann had a hearty laugh at that, taking a guzzle of her water until her soundless chuckled petered out. “Wait, you’re-” and yes, she realized that Leslie wasn’t joking. Leslie wasn’t even close to joking. “Les, do you ever think that maybe you go a little overboard? ...that wine thing sounds disgusting.”
“It’s flavorless and also, of course not Ann, this is going to be perfect! I mean, Gino’s says they can handle the pizza though they want the corner of Oak and Elm zoned for their food truck so I’m going to pull some strings and oh, the best part, peppers where the capitals are!” Leslie stole one of Ann’s carrots, thought better of it and tossed it back into the bag. “And a black olive for D.C., because Ben loves olives and I think-”
They both finished the sentence. “Olives suck.”
Ann’s eyes reduced to slits, munching on a carrot thoughtfully. “How big is the pizza?”
“You know, I hadn’t really asked...” Leslie made a note in her phone to find that out. Damn, she really hoped that Ben’s car was big enough.
---
Alright, so perhaps the white board had been a bit ambitious; she’d had to bungee cord it to the top of her Volkswagen Jetta (stopping numerous times along the way to recenter it for it failed to threaten to obscure her windshield. It wouldn’t do if she drove off the side of the road because the white board she’d borrowed (well no one had been around to borrow it from, but she had left a note) from the School Board had come undone to cause her untimely demise.
When she arrived home, Ben’s Subaru was in the driveway, far enough on the right of the drive so that she little compact could fit comfortably. She exited the car and left the white board for later; in the backseat she retrieved the dozen cupcakes she had ordered and the tote bag filled with bottles of wine.
Leslie was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement; her ‘I Voted!’ sticker in a state of prominence on her lapel directly next to her ‘Women For Obama’ pin, she made her way up the front steps of her house and managed to knock at the door with her forehead.
It took a moment but when Ben threw the door open, it was with a breathless grin and open arms. “Election daaaaaaay!” he shouted excitedly, waving his jazz hands for all he was worth.
“Election daaaaay!” she shouted back and thrust out her elbows. “Help me with this please.” Ben dutifully took the bundles out and off of Leslie’s arms whilst shooting a dubious glance at the monstrosity atop Leslie’s car. He kicked the door closed behind him and followed Leslie into the living room.
She noted the enormous, flat cardboard box on the coffee table. “Is that...!?” Her voice held a note of enormous wonder, oh man she had been waiting for this.
Ben rapped his fingers against the box. “Yeah, I had to put down the back seat in my car and angle it upwards from the east to the west, so California might be a bit squished.”
Her head shook vehemently, “No Ben, you can’t squish California! If we enrage them and they secede... Ben, they could be a self-sustaining country! Do you know anything about California at all!?”
“Okay, well, it’s a pizza and not the actual state so I think it’ll be alright.” Ben opened the box slightly and the scent of warm cheese and fragrant sauce tickled their noses. Leslie reached in as though to grab a piece and then pulled back.
The side of her lip twisted in worry, “Okay, we’re going to town on that and not cutting out the actual states right? Because Delaware would be a bitch.”
“Yeah, no, we’re just going to dive into that thing with no regard for state lines.” Ben bounced a bit on the balls of his feet and then clapped his hands together in a very Leslie-esque manner. “Alright, polls close in an hour and I’ve built a fire... even though it’s not really cold enough out and the lights are dimmed and I’ve checked all of Nate Silver’s predictions lined up on the cork board so we can call that as well-”
“God, you have such a crush on Nate Silver,” Leslie whispered and nosed into his neck. “That is so hot.”
Ben chuckled and bent to drop a kiss at her hairline, “Statistics are my jam baby, what can I say?”
Leslie went a little boneless and Ben wrapped a caring arm around her waist. She torqued her neck back as far as it would go, her hair splaying out. “Ahhh, I shouldn’t find that so hot but I doooo.”
There was a burst of laughter from Ben followed by a burst of laughter from James Carville on the television that was set up on the floor next to the fireplace, just far enough away not to melt. Both of their attention was sucked immediately to CNN and though their arms were twined around one another, it was like they were in another world.
“I think I’m getting sexually confused?” Ben tugged at the woman in his arms, bouncing her against his chest. “Because I think I’m also attracted to James Carville?”
“Well, how can you not be? He’s as bipartisan as they come, married to Mary Matalin. And he worked for Bill and that’s just, that’s the biggest turn on ever.”
“You and Bill Clinton close, then? Going by first names?” His tone was droll, but he pulled her in and nuzzled her close.
Leslie rolled her eyes and wriggled out of his circle of arms. “Alright, I need to change out of this skirt and put on some pajama pants so you can, you know, take them off later. No easy access to the Knope Vault until the election is officially called.”
“Worst name for your vagina ever.”
---
“Soooo, Les, I got the white board in and-” It was set up in between the hallway and the living room, completing the room in its ‘politics from all sides’ treatment. Fox news played on the modest flat screen that Ben has dragged over from Andy and April’s, MSNBC on the fifty-inch box television that Leslie just couldn’t part with because her aunt had given it to her mother and her mother had given it to her back when she moved into her house and CNN was on Leslie’s more modern flatscreen that she’d managed to picture-in-picture so that she could see Anderson Cooper twice in the same screen.
Leslie appeared back in the room in her comfiest pants, fluffy socks and Hillary 2008’ sweatshirt that was so threadbare that she had to wear a tank top underneath just to remain decent. “Yeah, what?”
“Did you outline the United States in permanent marker?”
“Had to, otherwise when we colored in the states the borders would run, oh, yeah, now I see what you’re talking about. I’ll just... replace it... before the school board even notices it’s gone. They can’t cost much, right?”
“Ehm, ones that large are like, three hundred dollars?”
“Oh god, alright, well,” Leslie huffed and began opening the wine, “That sucks but, this is important! I’ll suck it up! Small price to pay for the democratic process!” A cork popped with a certain amount of volume and Ben jumped.
“You really going to put blue food coloring in it?” came his skeptical inquiry. “Because I’m not drinking that.”
“Right, whatever, it’s flavorless and this is delicious chardonnay and you’re wrong so you’re wrong.” Leslie squeezed a significant amount of ‘cornflower’ into the bottle, pressed her hand to the bottle opening and shook it around. “Yes! Liberal wine.”
Pulling her hand off of the bottle, she licked her palm clean. Ben watched her, blinked, took a moment before he was sure his voice would work properly.
“I’m going to stick with the conservative wine because I like zinfandels and it’s delicious and it’s not a strange color.” Plucking up the bottle, he read the back of the label as though he knew something, anything at all about wine.
Leslie’s lips were already turning blue; she’d taken one sip. “It’s not strange, and oooh, what if we poured them together and made a wine in the spirit of bipartisanship?.”
“Okay no because that’s disgusting and you look like you’re drinking a cocktail from Chili’s.” He poured himself a glass and then crossed to settle on the couch. “You ready?”
“So ready.”
“Polls on the east coast close in three-”
They counted out together, “Two, one.”
---
The Northeast had gone completely blue which was no surprised but had excited them both. They colored in all of the states according to CNN’s prediction, but didn’t fill them in until they polls had officially closed in the east. Leslie got to color Illinois blue and took her time streaking the marker evenly through the state.
By the time they called the Connecticut senate race, Leslie had been pretty tipsy. In fact, she had foregone the wine glass entirely and instead drank straight from the bottle that was currently nestled safely between her knees. Her left shoulder rested heavily against Ben’s chest, effectively incapacitating him. “How is Florida not... how is Florida this close? I can’t, I don’t...”
She stood on only slightly wobbly legs and crossed to the white board, coloring in Wisconsin, fudging the lines a little bit. “You get Colorado,” she thrust the blue, dry erase marker at him.
Ben snatched it up with gusto. “Nate’s spot on, thus far, just so you know,” he taunted and sat back down on the couch. Admiring the board, Ben noticed a small section of Pennsylvania that he’d missed. “Color in Philadelphia, would you?”
Leslie did so, methodically and then curled her lips into a frown and spun back around to face him. “You like him so much you should, you know, marry him.”
“I would but my mom would kill me if I married a Jewish guy.” Leslie laughed and flung herself back against him on the couch. “‘Sides, I’m marrying you.”
“Damn right you are, and don’t you forget it!” Waving her right hand in the air, she pointed to the engagement ring. It caught the light from the fire and she sat there, indulging in a bit of admiration.
They turned their attention to the cupcakes, having already done a sizeable amount of damage to the west coast of the United States pizza; Ben had already plucked up the District and eaten it somehow with a finality that left Leslie feeling a bit giddy.
Leslie grinned as she assessed her cupcake and peeled off the waxy wrapper.
Half of the reason they worked, Leslie was sure was that Ben was a ‘cake’ cupcake man, while Leslie was much more a ‘frosting’ person. She’d rip off the bottom of her cupcake and squish it atop Ben’s so as to have a more equal frosting-to-cake ratio. True, this meant she went through more cupcakes that way, but Ben never said no to her, matched her confection for confection.
Just one of the reasons why they were so good together. And this, this love of politics, city, state and national. This too wound them together, their love for the democratic process. Leslie body slunk more firmly into Ben’s side, her need to eliminate all space between them making is slightly difficult for them to eat. They somehow managed three cakes each, wrapped around each other as on screen, CNN called the Massachusetts senate race for Elizabeth Warren.
“Yessss,” Leslie hissed and sat straight up on the sofa, Ben following. “That was key,” she said. “Ladies getting things done.”
Ben’s gaze remained on Leslie’s face as she watched the MSNBC commentators discuss the historic victory. “Ladies getting things done indeed.” And his lips found the pulse point on her neck and sucked gently.
Immediately, she went boneless. “Oh, oh god, think... do you think we have time for a quickie?”
“Should have kept your skirt on,” came Ben’s salaciously reply as he spread her against the couch and got her off to John King explaining the the way the counties in Ohio were currently voting on his enormous “Magic Wall.”
---
They dressed, but only barely. Leslie tossed her sweatshirt and underwear back on and Ben his boxers, the air in the living room more than pleasantly warm from the fire. Fingers tickled around her belly button while she settled her left hand behind her on his thigh.
Ben said nothing of the fact that he’s relieved that the ads are going to be over. Leslie didn’t have words to describe how happy she was that Claire McCaskill won the senate race in Missouri. So, they didn’t say anything at all for quite some time.
They watched as first Fox called the election for Obama and then MSNBC called it; they waited with bated breath for CNN to catch up with the rest of the gang. And then they called it, Ben just squeezed Leslie tighter, nuzzled his face into the back of her neck as he felt her release what felt like ages of pent up breath.
“You know, if I hadn’t proposed to you before, I’d do it right now, right this instant,” Ben smeared into her neck, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist.
Leslie laughed hysterically and shimmied herself around on the couch to face him. “No harm in doing it again.”
Ben grinned, “Marry me?”
“Hmmmm,” Leslie hummed. “Yep.”