Collaborative fic: Ticking Time Capsule
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Title: Ticking Time Capsule (part 3)
Authors: bowlsohard, stillscape, stiffleaves (so far)
Characters/Pairings: Leslie/Ben, Ann/Chris (so far)
Timeline: Time Capsule
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~640 (this part)
Summary: How Ann finds out Leslie might have feelings for a certain state auditor.
Notes: bowlsohard came up with the idea for this collaborative fic, where each person writes a few hundred words to continue the story. Part 1 is by bowlsohard, part 2 is by stillscape. This is part 3.
"Heyyy!" Ann said. "What are you doing here?" She ran a hand through her hair and licked her lips, which were almost certainly red-wine-stained.
"Oh hey, Chris," Ben said blankly.
"Ben Wyatt! Leslie Knope! Ann Perkins! Literally three of my favourite people- " He looked around, searchingly, but came up empty.
"Join us!" Leslie said.
Chris took the seat next to Ann and pecked her on the cheek. His smile, when his eyes met hers, seemed to brighten, mesmerizingly, so that Ann started to hear her blood pulsing through her body, going faster and faster, heating her palms - which she wiped, discreetly, on her skirt - as well as other, more intimate parts. Which was so distracting that she only caught the tail end of Ben and Leslie's Harry Potter conversation.
"- besides, who wouldn't want McGonagall as their head of house," Ben was saying, and Leslie's hand hit the spot between Ben and herself, which he'd occupied moments earlier.
Ben was looking cross-eyed, trying to smile at Leslie with one eye and to keep the other one on Chris. Ann downed the rest of her wine in one gulp.
"Let's go dance."
As she stood Ann thought she saw a Rebecca-shaped silhouette step into a brightly lit rectangle before both shapes vanished and all there was to see was the smooth blackness of the club's back wall. She grabbed Chris's hand and dragged him after her, wondering if he was looking at her butt, and if butts were the kind of things Chris and Ben talked about.
"Déjà vu!" Chris shouted over the music when they were on the dance floor, where Ann was pleased to discover that she was still the better dancer, even though Chris was almost certainly almost sober, and even though his butt was like sculpted marble while hers was more like marble cake.
"What?"
"You and me! Ben! And Leslie! Night out!"
"Haha!"
"What a coincidence! Again! Fantastic! Even though I know for a fact Ben wanted to bring a date here earlier tonight, one of the most wonderful people I've met in Pawnee-"
"Is that why you-" Ann stole a look at the table. Ben had reoccupied the space closest to Leslie. "I mean. Maybe it didn't go so well. The date."
"Ben's an adorable schmuck with lemon!"
In fact, Ann could see him and Leslie laughing, rather adorably, as if they'd been hit with Rictusempra. Which was the Tickling Charm. Which was something that Ann knew. Which was something that was Leslie's fault.
Lemon, though?
"What?"
"Ben! He's had some terrible luck! With women!"
In fact, Ben's eyes were now following the motion of Leslie's hands as she adjusted the top of the pink strapless dress she was wearing. Which was something that was Ann's fault, or her accomplishment. Ann grinned and swung her own hands around Chris's neck.
"Hey, what's your middle name?" she asked as she led him towards the centre of the dance floor, out of sight of the table.
≈
When Ann Meredith Perkins crawled out of bed the next morning she found a note from Christopher Hamilton Traeger saying he'd gone for a run and would be back within the hour with breakfast bran muffins. She tripped over one of her ankle boots on the way to the bathroom, where she splashed some water in her face to remove the raccoon-esque smudges around her eyes. She smiled when she took in the state of her living room, throughout which her blue skirt and yellow blouse and all the pieces of Chris's slate-grey suit lay scattered. She grabbed her purse from the sofa just as the phone inside it beeped. A glance at the display informed her that she had 23 new text messages.
Ann Meredith Perkins decided that she needed coffee first.
Title: Ticking Time Capsule (part 3)
Authors: bowlsohard, stillscape, stiffleaves (so far)
Characters/Pairings: Leslie/Ben, Ann/Chris (so far)
Timeline: Time Capsule
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~640 (this part)
Summary: How Ann finds out Leslie might have feelings for a certain state auditor.
Notes: bowlsohard came up with the idea for this collaborative fic, where each person writes a few hundred words to continue the story. Part 1 is by bowlsohard, part 2 is by stillscape. This is part 3.
"Heyyy!" Ann said. "What are you doing here?" She ran a hand through her hair and licked her lips, which were almost certainly red-wine-stained.
"Oh hey, Chris," Ben said blankly.
"Ben Wyatt! Leslie Knope! Ann Perkins! Literally three of my favourite people- " He looked around, searchingly, but came up empty.
"Join us!" Leslie said.
Chris took the seat next to Ann and pecked her on the cheek. His smile, when his eyes met hers, seemed to brighten, mesmerizingly, so that Ann started to hear her blood pulsing through her body, going faster and faster, heating her palms - which she wiped, discreetly, on her skirt - as well as other, more intimate parts. Which was so distracting that she only caught the tail end of Ben and Leslie's Harry Potter conversation.
"- besides, who wouldn't want McGonagall as their head of house," Ben was saying, and Leslie's hand hit the spot between Ben and herself, which he'd occupied moments earlier.
Ben was looking cross-eyed, trying to smile at Leslie with one eye and to keep the other one on Chris. Ann downed the rest of her wine in one gulp.
"Let's go dance."
As she stood Ann thought she saw a Rebecca-shaped silhouette step into a brightly lit rectangle before both shapes vanished and all there was to see was the smooth blackness of the club's back wall. She grabbed Chris's hand and dragged him after her, wondering if he was looking at her butt, and if butts were the kind of things Chris and Ben talked about.
"Déjà vu!" Chris shouted over the music when they were on the dance floor, where Ann was pleased to discover that she was still the better dancer, even though Chris was almost certainly almost sober, and even though his butt was like sculpted marble while hers was more like marble cake.
"What?"
"You and me! Ben! And Leslie! Night out!"
"Haha!"
"What a coincidence! Again! Fantastic! Even though I know for a fact Ben wanted to bring a date here earlier tonight, one of the most wonderful people I've met in Pawnee-"
"Is that why you-" Ann stole a look at the table. Ben had reoccupied the space closest to Leslie. "I mean. Maybe it didn't go so well. The date."
"Ben's an adorable schmuck with lemon!"
In fact, Ann could see him and Leslie laughing, rather adorably, as if they'd been hit with Rictusempra. Which was the Tickling Charm. Which was something that Ann knew. Which was something that was Leslie's fault.
Lemon, though?
"What?"
"Ben! He's had some terrible luck! With women!"
In fact, Ben's eyes were now following the motion of Leslie's hands as she adjusted the top of the pink strapless dress she was wearing. Which was something that was Ann's fault, or her accomplishment. Ann grinned and swung her own hands around Chris's neck.
"Hey, what's your middle name?" she asked as she led him towards the centre of the dance floor, out of sight of the table.
≈
When Ann Meredith Perkins crawled out of bed the next morning she found a note from Christopher Hamilton Traeger saying he'd gone for a run and would be back within the hour with breakfast bran muffins. She tripped over one of her ankle boots on the way to the bathroom, where she splashed some water in her face to remove the raccoon-esque smudges around her eyes. She smiled when she took in the state of her living room, throughout which her blue skirt and yellow blouse and all the pieces of Chris's slate-grey suit lay scattered. She grabbed her purse from the sofa just as the phone inside it beeped. A glance at the display informed her that she had 23 new text messages.
Ann Meredith Perkins decided that she needed coffee first.