fic: remember this, leslie/ben, pg13
title: Remember This
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: PG13?
words: ~1000
notes: THIS IS ONE GIANT SPOILER SO DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE WATCHED 5x05 HALLOWEEN SURPRISE. I couldn't help myself. Could. Not.
Hardwood floors get really cold in November, she notes. Rugs. Rugs would help. She has that pretty one her grandmother made, and maybe they could get another at Target to lay in front of the fireplace--
“Thinking too much?” asks a muffled voice, reverberating against her temple. She feels his warm palm drift down her back, fingers reaching to clasp along the curve of her ribs. Her leg shifts against his and she smushes her nose against his neck.
“It’s cold in here,” she hiccups, squeezing her eyes tight tight tight, because they burn again. They haven’t stopped. Really, she’s getting sick of tears. Sort of. Or she would be, if she weren’t so absolutely, ridiculously, head-over-heels happy.
Yeah, maybe she’ll just let herself cry one more time. Her arm tightens across his chest and she hides her face.
“We could have maybe waited ‘til we got home,” he says, and she can hear the grin in his voice, the one he hasn’t been able to wipe off his face since he showed up in Pawnee. She glances up to see him look around them in amusement, taking in their clothes strewn across the empty room and the sunlite patterns across the amber wood, the stillness and emptiness that’s gonna be so full of their life soon, and, “We don’t even own this house yet.”
“We’re not even gonna own it, we’re renting it,” she adds, and suddenly dissolves into laughter. And his chest beats the same rhythm, full chuckling, and he’s pulling her on top of him and his hands tangle into her hair and her lips fall back to his, and it’s ridiculous but she knows she’ll never ever tire of this, feels forever on the tip of his tongue, can’t hold him close enough. She just wants to feel everything, again, wants it to never stop, and now it doesn’t have to.
He nudges her gently, teeth nibbling at her lower lip as he eases them over, moves to roll her underneath him, but crap on a chrysanthemum the floor’s still freezing, and her voice croaks out in protest once her skin touches it.
“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles, and sits up. Dresses are easy, but Ben’s in some weird stage of partial undress, too frantic to touch each other to take their time. He finally pulls the button-up off his shoulders and moves to wrap it around her, kissing up her neck while she pushes her arms through the sleeves, and just as she goes back to his mouth-- “The ring!”
“Hmm?” she mumbles, pulling him back against her, because really, important things are happening, like how she needs to feel him again and she tries to straddle him to get it all started again but he’s off the floor, jogging over to the kitchen.
“You haven’t put the ring on yet,” he says, suddenly shy, holding the box out. That stupid box. Their box.
She struggles to stand up, her legs feeling like jelly, and when the sunlight through the window catches the diamond and it glimmers in his hand, her eyes start acting up again.
“I hope you like it,” he whispers, almost to himself, as he slips it on her finger.
“It’s perfect,” she chokes out, but she can’t even look at it, it’s too much, and she wraps her arms around his neck. “You big stupid jerk.” Pushing him against the nearest counter, she kisses him again, and again, and again. He pulls back to wipe her cheeks with his thumbs, and she does the same to him, and they laugh because this is ridiculous. People aren’t supposed to be this happy, right?
“We should probably find a bed soon, and cross our fingers that the real estate agent left a long time ago.”
And there it is, Ben’s bristling in her arms in surprise, startled. She hopes she’ll always be able to do that to him. She reaches down to pinch his butt and smiles warmly up at him.
“Ow, Leslie, did she? Did she leave? Could we get in trouble--”
She interrupts him, pulls at his hair a little, giggles into his mouth.
“I’m done worrying about getting in trouble for doing things with you,” she jokes. His smile crinkles his eyes, and she wants to keep him smiling like that forever.
“And I’m done living across the country from you,” he shoots back, hands bunching in his shirt at the small of her back. “And I’m done waiting to be with you,” he finishes, softly, and it’s so damn saccharine that it’s like another proposal unto itself, and dear god they’re getting married, when one year ago she might have let him go forever, and a year earlier he might never have taken a chance on a festival, and--
She doesn’t have to worry anymore. Not about Ben. Not ever again.
“Let’s put our clothes on, get some champagne, do more of this in a house we can legally celebrate in.” His thumb is rubbing gently under her eyebrow, down to her cheek, across her bottom lip.
“I put the deposit down. Let’s stay.”
It’s going to be their house, theirs together, part of him and part of her. Not just a drawer in her overstuffed dresser, but partly his, and if that isn’t the best damn thing she’s ever heard, she doesn’t know what is.
They’re able to get to the store in back in record time, hauling every throw blanket they could get their hands on, along with cheap champagne in plastic cups.
She’s definitely never, ever going to forget how perfect her life is right now, because she knows, can tell with every press of his lips against her, that it’ll be this perfect forever.
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: PG13?
words: ~1000
notes: THIS IS ONE GIANT SPOILER SO DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE WATCHED 5x05 HALLOWEEN SURPRISE. I couldn't help myself. Could. Not.
Hardwood floors get really cold in November, she notes. Rugs. Rugs would help. She has that pretty one her grandmother made, and maybe they could get another at Target to lay in front of the fireplace--
“Thinking too much?” asks a muffled voice, reverberating against her temple. She feels his warm palm drift down her back, fingers reaching to clasp along the curve of her ribs. Her leg shifts against his and she smushes her nose against his neck.
“It’s cold in here,” she hiccups, squeezing her eyes tight tight tight, because they burn again. They haven’t stopped. Really, she’s getting sick of tears. Sort of. Or she would be, if she weren’t so absolutely, ridiculously, head-over-heels happy.
Yeah, maybe she’ll just let herself cry one more time. Her arm tightens across his chest and she hides her face.
“We could have maybe waited ‘til we got home,” he says, and she can hear the grin in his voice, the one he hasn’t been able to wipe off his face since he showed up in Pawnee. She glances up to see him look around them in amusement, taking in their clothes strewn across the empty room and the sunlite patterns across the amber wood, the stillness and emptiness that’s gonna be so full of their life soon, and, “We don’t even own this house yet.”
“We’re not even gonna own it, we’re renting it,” she adds, and suddenly dissolves into laughter. And his chest beats the same rhythm, full chuckling, and he’s pulling her on top of him and his hands tangle into her hair and her lips fall back to his, and it’s ridiculous but she knows she’ll never ever tire of this, feels forever on the tip of his tongue, can’t hold him close enough. She just wants to feel everything, again, wants it to never stop, and now it doesn’t have to.
He nudges her gently, teeth nibbling at her lower lip as he eases them over, moves to roll her underneath him, but crap on a chrysanthemum the floor’s still freezing, and her voice croaks out in protest once her skin touches it.
“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles, and sits up. Dresses are easy, but Ben’s in some weird stage of partial undress, too frantic to touch each other to take their time. He finally pulls the button-up off his shoulders and moves to wrap it around her, kissing up her neck while she pushes her arms through the sleeves, and just as she goes back to his mouth-- “The ring!”
“Hmm?” she mumbles, pulling him back against her, because really, important things are happening, like how she needs to feel him again and she tries to straddle him to get it all started again but he’s off the floor, jogging over to the kitchen.
“You haven’t put the ring on yet,” he says, suddenly shy, holding the box out. That stupid box. Their box.
She struggles to stand up, her legs feeling like jelly, and when the sunlight through the window catches the diamond and it glimmers in his hand, her eyes start acting up again.
“I hope you like it,” he whispers, almost to himself, as he slips it on her finger.
“It’s perfect,” she chokes out, but she can’t even look at it, it’s too much, and she wraps her arms around his neck. “You big stupid jerk.” Pushing him against the nearest counter, she kisses him again, and again, and again. He pulls back to wipe her cheeks with his thumbs, and she does the same to him, and they laugh because this is ridiculous. People aren’t supposed to be this happy, right?
“We should probably find a bed soon, and cross our fingers that the real estate agent left a long time ago.”
And there it is, Ben’s bristling in her arms in surprise, startled. She hopes she’ll always be able to do that to him. She reaches down to pinch his butt and smiles warmly up at him.
“Ow, Leslie, did she? Did she leave? Could we get in trouble--”
She interrupts him, pulls at his hair a little, giggles into his mouth.
“I’m done worrying about getting in trouble for doing things with you,” she jokes. His smile crinkles his eyes, and she wants to keep him smiling like that forever.
“And I’m done living across the country from you,” he shoots back, hands bunching in his shirt at the small of her back. “And I’m done waiting to be with you,” he finishes, softly, and it’s so damn saccharine that it’s like another proposal unto itself, and dear god they’re getting married, when one year ago she might have let him go forever, and a year earlier he might never have taken a chance on a festival, and--
She doesn’t have to worry anymore. Not about Ben. Not ever again.
“Let’s put our clothes on, get some champagne, do more of this in a house we can legally celebrate in.” His thumb is rubbing gently under her eyebrow, down to her cheek, across her bottom lip.
“I put the deposit down. Let’s stay.”
It’s going to be their house, theirs together, part of him and part of her. Not just a drawer in her overstuffed dresser, but partly his, and if that isn’t the best damn thing she’s ever heard, she doesn’t know what is.
They’re able to get to the store in back in record time, hauling every throw blanket they could get their hands on, along with cheap champagne in plastic cups.
She’s definitely never, ever going to forget how perfect her life is right now, because she knows, can tell with every press of his lips against her, that it’ll be this perfect forever.