parks & rec fic: next stop, the world (3/11)
next stop, the world [3/11]
Leslie/Ben, Chris/Ann, Andy/April
pg-13. 3948 words.
Here's the thing: Ben Wyatt hasn't done this in a long time. Leslie decides to run for office, antics ensue.
Note: Greetings from Fort Worth, Texas! I'm a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding tomorrow, but today, here's the next bit. I hope you enjoy! ♥
(You can read previous parts here.)
"As mayor, I would do my best to make Pawnee a place whose citizens can be proud of it, every day. I would make it the kind of place you just stay in, when you want to go on vacation." Leslie tries not to fiddle with the buttons on her blazer. She's done press conferences before, of course, but those were as part of the Parks Department. If she failed she could always blame it on Ron or Tom or another weird encounter with Councilman Howzer.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Knope," Joan Calomezzo says, her smile not sorry at all, "but you would, as you say, do your best? What about certainty?"
Leslie takes a deep breath and thinks of warm brownies as she smiles directly into the cameras. "I think you'll find, everyone, that when you look at my best, if you think about the Harvest Festival and Camp Athena and the summer parks programs and of course Li'l Sebastian's memorial service, my best has been pretty great for Pawnee so far. With the added resources and influence I would have as mayor, my efforts would be more far-reaching and long-lasting. There's so much in Pawnee already," she has to stop herself from saying guys, this has slipped into the effortless rhythm of a pep talk to the rest of the Parks Department, "and I think if we look at it that way, people from all over Indiana are going to look at Pawnee and see what I see: the best, most amazing town in America. Maybe the whole world."
In the back of the room, she can see Bill Barnes frowning. But the room explodes in applause so, take that, Bill.
If Ben Wyatt is ever given a time machine, he will use it to destroy the original takes of In The Aeroplane Over The Sea so that he won't have to know when April and Andy are getting it on in the living room. He would keep a copy of the album for himself -- it was the kind of thing he liked, ten years ago, when he was feeling especially pathetic about getting his life on track -- but he'd have to wait a few years to see if he stopped thinking about his newlywed roommates.
Leslie's out at some fundraising dinner with the City Council. She modeled turtlenecks for him earlier and warned him that the tabloids tomorrow might say that she and Councilman Dexhart are having another affair. Then she'd kissed him like, obviously I would never go for him, so Ben had felt okay letting her wear the prettiest turtleneck, the blue one that brings out her eyes.
In three days they're leaving for Miami. He's been looking forward to it through these green June days, when even the scanty Pawnee parks have been full of flowers. Even all the sniffling at City Hall, apparently a result of record amounts of pollen downtown, hasn't bothered him. For ten days they will be gone. No Chris to be too excited about everything, no crazy reporters, no April and Andy being loveable but occasionally incredibly obnoxious.
Here's the thing: Ben Wyatt hasn't done this in a long time. He was serious about a girl but that ended five years ago and he figured, he was thirty, there would be time. He's not the best at long distance, but occasionally, even in the tiniest Indiana villages, there would be some girl who, immune to Chris's charms, would find too many excuses to spend time in his office and it's not like anyone told him he should be a monk. After a few weeks of the phone calls and texts, the occasional awkward visits, their interest would peter out. Their towns always looked dingier, when he drove back to them after being away. And then there's Leslie, who makes everything literally burst into bloom.
Of course, sometimes that involves planting tulips and lilacs in Ramsett Park at two in the morning, just so Pawnee can experience a real spring. The flowers looked great in her campaign photos. Even after three hours of sleep, there were no tired dark circles under her eyes. He'd yawned through a meeting with Sewage that morning, even after four cups of coffee. There's something kind of miraculous about her.
Sweeping the lady off her feet had sounded like such a good idea coming out of Tom's mouth. Ben's starting to think he's made up a sliding scale for the things that come out of Tom's mouth. He needs to remember this: the things that sound amazing are just not completely awful. And Leslie keeps sending him these sweet little memos with things like, Let's stop by the Everglades and look for rosette spoonbills! He had to look those up on Wikipedia. Most secret girlfriends wouldn't research their secret getaway vacations down to the wildlife.
Mentally, he rehearses his speech: Hey Chris. He will make this call at two in the morning so he's got it all scripted. I got a call just now -- my grandma died. Remember the one in Minnesota? It was a stroke. There will be a pause during which Chris will probably sniffle, if not cry, while offering his deepest condolences, those words exactly. I need to go home to help my parents with the funeral. Chris will say of course, take the week off. Ben will sigh into the phone. Hopefully it will sound sleepy and sad. He shifts his weight on the bed, enjoying the way that for once in the past year, the springs don't creak with the movement.
Things will be okay in Miami. Things with Leslie are great now, and if on occasion it's weird to see her run this campaign, mostly it's the secrecy that bothers him. That's not her fault. She can't afford a scandal. And with Chris around, their relationship will always have that tinge. Out of the state, they can hold hands and sit on the beach and they'll just be two people who like each other a lot. He can't freak out about this, after all the work he's put into being a grown up.
April must've hit the loop button on the stereo, because when What a beautiful face, I have found in this place leaks through his room, he has a feeling he's heard it before. It's okay, though.
"What if I did some appeal to Pawnee like they do in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. If everybody who went to the Harvest Festival sent in five dollars, we'd have enough money for all the campaign materials, right?" Leslie shifts the phone with her shoulder. The office is too empty without Tom and Ron keeps turning down applicants because they seem too qualified.
"Pawnee isn't a Frank Capra movie, Leslie," the dark-haired woman on the other line responds. Her name is Annalise, Leslie has since found out, but she keeps calling her The Dark-Haired Woman when Annalise isn't around. It makes her sound way more spooky. "You did fine at the fundraising dinner the other night."
"It's just, wouldn't it be so much better if the people who gave me money actually liked me? And went to town hall meetings? And had actually visited a park?" This is the first time she's managed to behave in front of Councilman Howzer, but Councilman Dexhart was not exactly sneaky about trying to find a way to look down her turtleneck. She shouldn't have let Ben talk her into wearing her favorite one.
"You're just a little short. We can make it up later." She sounds bored, on the other end of the phone, like this isn't a big, life-changing, deal. Which it is.
"There isn't just some indefinite later. I'm going out of town next weekend. We can't just hope I win the lottery or something. Although that would be cool." Leslie takes a deep breath. She can't get distracted. "The point is, I think this could actually work."
"I really don't know about you going out of town, for a whole week. I know your vacation is important to you --" Her tone of voice implies that Leslie's priorities are totally out of line, which might be okay if this Dark-Haired Woman had any clue about how to raise her some campaign money.
"Listen, I'll figure out something myself. We'll be in touch, okay?" It's not the best closing line but it's okay. She has another call to make.
Luckily, Entertainment 720 hasn't exactly taken off, and Tom answers on the first ring.
"Hey, Tom, how do you feel about some exposure doing some pro-bono work for your favorite candidate for mayor? It'd be great exposure." Luckily for the deserving citizens of Pawnee, Tom likes her, has actually visited a park, and owes her about a billion favors.
Ben's checking the Snerling Barnes and Noble for any members of Pawnee's City Hall. He mentioned that Chris likes to buy his groceries here, which figures, but this is a Happy Secret Date, so instead of moping, Leslie tucks her special-order biography of Eleanor Roosevelt under her arm and heads to the travel section.
There are all these huge books on the Best Beaches in America and even this thin volume called Vacationing In America's State Parks (which she already has three copies of) and, just like she hoped, little charts for identifying wildflowers and fish. And tropical flowers. There's even a small laminated guide to spotting different species of coral reef fish. She tucks them inside the dust jacket of her biography. Eleanor will keep them safe. Then she heads to the History & Politics section. Ben will be there if the coast is clear.
When she spots him in her favorite part of any bookstore, trying not to let her see that he's brought in a new Star Wars commentary, she casually approaches the shelves and runs her fingers against the spines like she's a femme fatale who frequents bookstores.
"What brings you here?" she says, keeping her voice low. When she looks at him through her eyelids -- okay, yeah, she practiced this last night until she didn't look stoned -- he's smiling in his dorky way, like somebody announced they were re-doing the Lord of the Rings movies.
"Well," he says, "it just so happens that I hate libraries. And I have this fantasy of kissing a beautiful woman in the Snerling Barnes and Noble."
If they were keeping up this play, Leslie would keep talking in her low voice and walk over to him slowly, but then she wouldn't get to kiss him, just the way Eleanor would approve of. They're not always the best about being sneaky, but they are very, very lucky.
April's updating the Play-Doh city and Andy's strumming his guitar, humming a melody over the chords. Right now she's working on the garden for their house, because this afternoon, avoiding work on Ron's behalf, she realized a year-round Christmas tree in the backyard would actually be pretty great. She's shaping the star for the top. Hopefully it won't flop over like the last two have.
"Hey," she says when Andy's stopped strumming for a few minutes, "where's Ben? He's always gone these days?"
When she looks up at him, Andy's giving her this weird look. She's seen it before -- he's her husband, after all -- and it means he's keeping a secret from her.
"Please tell me he's in the FBI. Or sleeping with prostitutes." It would be awesome to live with a criminal. Even though he's paying most of their rent, Ben's pretty boring, as roommates go, especially now that they use laundry detergent.
"I was told something in confident," he says. He's too sweet to correct.
"Do you want to have a big fight about how we can't have any secrets in this marriage?" Whenever she's channel surfing, those always seem to happen once people are married. She could put on a costume or something.
"How about I distract you," He rubs his hand on the dip of her back and she thinks yes before he continues, "with my own question?"
"Sure." So far the star is sticking to the top of the tree. "What's your question?"
"Would you, April Ludgate, like to sing a duet with me and Mouse Rat on the next song we do?" His eyes have gone all big and he's grinning, his face right next to him. Her husband. She reaches her hands up and pulls herself towards him for a kiss. She runs her tongue against the curve of his bottom lip, still smiling. He's scruffy but she loves that feeling, the way the stubble's rough against her fingertips.
"That was a yes, right?" he asks, breathing kinda hard when they finally pause for air. "Because you know how Burly got the last time we made him do the girl's part."
"Yeah it was a yes," she says. "That sounds like it could be cool." She could say I'd love to, but she's pretty sure Andy hears that anyway.
"So, what kind of swimsuit are you looking for?" Ann says, squinting at the department store racks with her beautiful determined Ann eyes. This is exactly why Leslie brought her along.
"I want something sexy, obviously, but also, I don't know, maybe something I could actually swim in? I don't want it to fall off while we're swimming with the dolphins." She puts back the crocheted red bikini she was considering for a second. It would probably fly off a lady's body if you looked at it funny.
"Can you do that at a state park?" Ann holds out a blue polka-dotted one piece that isn't frumpy looking. It could work.
"Florida is a magical place. I mean, Disney World, the Everglades, Cape Canaveral... I bet you can even talk to the dolphins if you know the right people." Maybe a tankini, even if that name has always bothered her. There's a red one with a halter top, and it comes in black. She could buy a few swimsuits. "And it'll be nice to have a break from the campaign."
"Yeah, what's with those commercials they've been airing for you lately? You look like a robot. And did they slow down your voice?"
"See, I told them the slow-mo was a bad idea, but they said you have to talk clearly and sound deep and firm and stuff. But I don't know." She tucks her hair behind her ear. These swimsuit considerations require a full field of vision. "Tom's going to be making some commercials for me. They should go on the air when I'm gone."
"Wait, you're solving this problem by using Tom? Tom Haverford? Tom Haverford who has twenty-six online dating profiles?" Ann's shaking two different suits for emphasis. It helps that they really clash against each other.
"Yeah, that Tom. But I'm short on campaign funds and the Order of Pawnee is definitely not helping. I mean, you saw the commercial they did. Tom whipped one up for me in two days, for free, that is way better than that slow-mo crap. And it has so many parks! He even worked in a clip of JJ's." Leslie doesn't mention that she ended up sitting next to him in the Dreamatorium for two nights in a row, after his first attempt was basically an add for Jay-Z, or maybe Entertainment 720. She's not really sure. Anyway, their actual efforts, three different commercials, were definitely worth the two hours of sleep she managed to grab in her office this morning, before Jerry got chased around by a squirrel and she had to go rescue him.
"Just as long as you've seen them. And inspected them closely. And delivered them to the TV stations yourself. You don't know what he could try and sneak in." Ann turns her attention back to the racks and pulls out a little yellow polka-dot bikini. "This is definitely sexy enough. And it would look hot with your hair!"
"You think so?" Leslie holds the suit up to herself and twirls. It's not the most practical -- especially if they go on that scuba diving trip she dreamed about in her two-hour nap -- but it would be really cute. She can imagine the look on Ben's face when she unveils it, the tilt of his smile. Ann nods firmly, like she's telling a patient they definitely don't have cancer. "Okay, I'll try it on."
They turn to the racks again. Ann pulls out this dark red swimsuit that will look great against her skin, especially now with her summer tan. It seems like her river of boyfriends has slowed down to a trickle, but maybe she'll find a keeper at the Indiana Dunes or the Pawnee public pool. You never know.
"Are you going to be okay helping out with the summer parks stuff next week?" Leslie thumbs through a new rack of suits. They all would make her look like a rainbow threw up sparkles on her. "That bassoon quartet's coming in on Wednesday. Are you still good for them to stay with you?"
"I guess," Ann says, pulling out a rainbow-colored zebra print two-piece and making a face. "What's their big thing again?"
"They dress up as Lady Gaga and dance and stuff. It was this Youtube thing. They're cheap, and the education department cut the orchestra last spring, so at least these kids will find out what a bassoon is before they hit grad school. Or after ten years of being a nurse." She nudges Ann. Thank god for Wikipedia. "And then there's the game of tag that's open to all the elementary school kids. Did you get my email with the contacts for the pizza?"
"Yup. And your email about the birdwatching tour. Don't you think Jerry will be fine doing that on his own?"
"Remember when I told you about Jerry getting chased by a squirrel? Yesterday? Jerry definitely needs help birdwatching." Leslie considers the suits in her hand. So far there are five. Hopefully two of them are okay and then she's good for these state parks. And beaches. And, whatever she and Ben decide to do. "Chris said it was okay if you moved your nursing schedule around. I think he even called the hospital to check."
"That's my girl," Ann smiles at her. Over coffee last week, Ann had convinced her that Chris really isn't so awful. She has this calm, authoritative way of saying things that Leslie's been copying on the campaign trail. If she wins the mayor spot, she'll have to be sure to thank Ann Perkins, nurse and friend extraordinaire, in her acceptance speech. Anyway Leslie's still not completely sure, but at least Ann has talked her into appreciating Chris's positive qualities. Like his positivity.
"I think we're good," Leslie says. "You ready to endure the trauma of the fitting room?"
April looks so beautiful in the moonlight, Andy thinks. They're doing their own ghost tour of Pawnee. It's easy because according to this book on the Womapoke that Kyle randomly gave him, there are people buried seriously everywhere. There's even a spooky mist on the ground. At first he thought it might be ghosts, because the mist is kind of what they look like, but April said no, it was mist or dew or something.
April doesn't believe in ghosts, she says, but her hand is on his arm pretty tightly. So either she's afraid or she just wants to feel his manly muscles. Either of these things is okay with him.
"That's Ben's car," April says all of a sudden, pointing towards the road. "We should follow him."
Before he can talk her out of it, she's pulling him after her. She may be tiny, but his wife is definitely a strong woman. And it's really fun, to be running through the night with April. They're going so fast he can hardly breathe but that's fun too, it's like the air tastes even better every chance he gets to suck it inside of him.
They turn up Leslie's street and April almost yells something but Andy covers her mouth with his hand. She licks it, which gross but also strangely nice, but he keeps his hand there until Ben's parked in front of Leslie's and gone inside, doing his best Burt Macklin impression. Andy should probably give him some pointers because he looks pretty ridiculous.
"Now honey," he says, trying not to be distracted by the shapes April's tracing with her tongue against his hand, "this is a secret. And now you know it. Ben said that Chris will fire him and Leslie if he finds out about them. You know that I owe Leslie about a kajillion favors. So we need to keep this a secret, like a national treasure kind of secret."
"We need Ben to pay the rent," she says, once he's taken his hand away. He can't help staring at her tongue while she talks. "They're not gross together. It's a secret."
This is the part where he wants to yell April Ludgate is the best wife in the world!, but that would kind of ruin the whole secret thing, so instead he kisses her until it feels like he's run a thousand miles. The air tastes so good against her smile.
"Hey Chris," Ben says, muttering the words against Leslie's shoulder in warm sleepy puffs of air. "I'm really sorry to call so late. I just found out that my grandma died."
There's a sound that sounds like crying and sadness, although Leslie can't quite make out the words. Ben traces a star into the skin right above her shoulderblades, which makes Chris's words matter even less.
"Yeah, it was really sudden. My mom wants me to go up to Minnesota and help out with stuff. I might -- yeah, I might need the week. Would you be okay with that? Okay. Thanks a lot, Chris." There's a pause and he draws another star, like he's planning on turning her into a constellation. "No, she always said she didn't want flowers at her funeral. You don't have to send anything. Thanks, thanks, I should probably go. I'm heading out really early tomorrow."
That part is true, at least. They're leaving for Miami before sunrise, so nobody will spot his car and realize they're in it together, that his grandma's death didn't just coincidentally coincide with the one vacation she's taken in the last ten years. And if they leave that early, he can spend the night at her house. She rests her nose against him and inhales, the warm skin smell of him, a little spice and oregano. The real thing is so much better than the traces after he leaves in the middle of the night.
He sets the phone on the nightstand and turns his full attention on her.
"We're going to have to come up with my dead grandma's hypothetical funeral arrangements," he says, pulling her hair away from her face and tangling it between his fingers.
"We have a whole long drive," she tells him, and kisses the dip in his shoulder. They should probably get some sleep, but when Ben kisses her, Thomas Jefferson style -- even if he had slaves, he was definitely the sexiest founding father -- she reminds herself that sleep is for the weak. Especially at a time like this.
"Our nation is in peril," he whispers against her lips, making tonight amazing and melodramatic, their own Revolution, "our freedom is at stake."
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, she thinks, and pulls him closer towards her.
part 4!
Leslie/Ben, Chris/Ann, Andy/April
pg-13. 3948 words.
Here's the thing: Ben Wyatt hasn't done this in a long time. Leslie decides to run for office, antics ensue.
Note: Greetings from Fort Worth, Texas! I'm a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding tomorrow, but today, here's the next bit. I hope you enjoy! ♥
(You can read previous parts here.)
"As mayor, I would do my best to make Pawnee a place whose citizens can be proud of it, every day. I would make it the kind of place you just stay in, when you want to go on vacation." Leslie tries not to fiddle with the buttons on her blazer. She's done press conferences before, of course, but those were as part of the Parks Department. If she failed she could always blame it on Ron or Tom or another weird encounter with Councilman Howzer.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Knope," Joan Calomezzo says, her smile not sorry at all, "but you would, as you say, do your best? What about certainty?"
Leslie takes a deep breath and thinks of warm brownies as she smiles directly into the cameras. "I think you'll find, everyone, that when you look at my best, if you think about the Harvest Festival and Camp Athena and the summer parks programs and of course Li'l Sebastian's memorial service, my best has been pretty great for Pawnee so far. With the added resources and influence I would have as mayor, my efforts would be more far-reaching and long-lasting. There's so much in Pawnee already," she has to stop herself from saying guys, this has slipped into the effortless rhythm of a pep talk to the rest of the Parks Department, "and I think if we look at it that way, people from all over Indiana are going to look at Pawnee and see what I see: the best, most amazing town in America. Maybe the whole world."
In the back of the room, she can see Bill Barnes frowning. But the room explodes in applause so, take that, Bill.
If Ben Wyatt is ever given a time machine, he will use it to destroy the original takes of In The Aeroplane Over The Sea so that he won't have to know when April and Andy are getting it on in the living room. He would keep a copy of the album for himself -- it was the kind of thing he liked, ten years ago, when he was feeling especially pathetic about getting his life on track -- but he'd have to wait a few years to see if he stopped thinking about his newlywed roommates.
Leslie's out at some fundraising dinner with the City Council. She modeled turtlenecks for him earlier and warned him that the tabloids tomorrow might say that she and Councilman Dexhart are having another affair. Then she'd kissed him like, obviously I would never go for him, so Ben had felt okay letting her wear the prettiest turtleneck, the blue one that brings out her eyes.
In three days they're leaving for Miami. He's been looking forward to it through these green June days, when even the scanty Pawnee parks have been full of flowers. Even all the sniffling at City Hall, apparently a result of record amounts of pollen downtown, hasn't bothered him. For ten days they will be gone. No Chris to be too excited about everything, no crazy reporters, no April and Andy being loveable but occasionally incredibly obnoxious.
Here's the thing: Ben Wyatt hasn't done this in a long time. He was serious about a girl but that ended five years ago and he figured, he was thirty, there would be time. He's not the best at long distance, but occasionally, even in the tiniest Indiana villages, there would be some girl who, immune to Chris's charms, would find too many excuses to spend time in his office and it's not like anyone told him he should be a monk. After a few weeks of the phone calls and texts, the occasional awkward visits, their interest would peter out. Their towns always looked dingier, when he drove back to them after being away. And then there's Leslie, who makes everything literally burst into bloom.
Of course, sometimes that involves planting tulips and lilacs in Ramsett Park at two in the morning, just so Pawnee can experience a real spring. The flowers looked great in her campaign photos. Even after three hours of sleep, there were no tired dark circles under her eyes. He'd yawned through a meeting with Sewage that morning, even after four cups of coffee. There's something kind of miraculous about her.
Sweeping the lady off her feet had sounded like such a good idea coming out of Tom's mouth. Ben's starting to think he's made up a sliding scale for the things that come out of Tom's mouth. He needs to remember this: the things that sound amazing are just not completely awful. And Leslie keeps sending him these sweet little memos with things like, Let's stop by the Everglades and look for rosette spoonbills! He had to look those up on Wikipedia. Most secret girlfriends wouldn't research their secret getaway vacations down to the wildlife.
Mentally, he rehearses his speech: Hey Chris. He will make this call at two in the morning so he's got it all scripted. I got a call just now -- my grandma died. Remember the one in Minnesota? It was a stroke. There will be a pause during which Chris will probably sniffle, if not cry, while offering his deepest condolences, those words exactly. I need to go home to help my parents with the funeral. Chris will say of course, take the week off. Ben will sigh into the phone. Hopefully it will sound sleepy and sad. He shifts his weight on the bed, enjoying the way that for once in the past year, the springs don't creak with the movement.
Things will be okay in Miami. Things with Leslie are great now, and if on occasion it's weird to see her run this campaign, mostly it's the secrecy that bothers him. That's not her fault. She can't afford a scandal. And with Chris around, their relationship will always have that tinge. Out of the state, they can hold hands and sit on the beach and they'll just be two people who like each other a lot. He can't freak out about this, after all the work he's put into being a grown up.
April must've hit the loop button on the stereo, because when What a beautiful face, I have found in this place leaks through his room, he has a feeling he's heard it before. It's okay, though.
"What if I did some appeal to Pawnee like they do in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. If everybody who went to the Harvest Festival sent in five dollars, we'd have enough money for all the campaign materials, right?" Leslie shifts the phone with her shoulder. The office is too empty without Tom and Ron keeps turning down applicants because they seem too qualified.
"Pawnee isn't a Frank Capra movie, Leslie," the dark-haired woman on the other line responds. Her name is Annalise, Leslie has since found out, but she keeps calling her The Dark-Haired Woman when Annalise isn't around. It makes her sound way more spooky. "You did fine at the fundraising dinner the other night."
"It's just, wouldn't it be so much better if the people who gave me money actually liked me? And went to town hall meetings? And had actually visited a park?" This is the first time she's managed to behave in front of Councilman Howzer, but Councilman Dexhart was not exactly sneaky about trying to find a way to look down her turtleneck. She shouldn't have let Ben talk her into wearing her favorite one.
"You're just a little short. We can make it up later." She sounds bored, on the other end of the phone, like this isn't a big, life-changing, deal. Which it is.
"There isn't just some indefinite later. I'm going out of town next weekend. We can't just hope I win the lottery or something. Although that would be cool." Leslie takes a deep breath. She can't get distracted. "The point is, I think this could actually work."
"I really don't know about you going out of town, for a whole week. I know your vacation is important to you --" Her tone of voice implies that Leslie's priorities are totally out of line, which might be okay if this Dark-Haired Woman had any clue about how to raise her some campaign money.
"Listen, I'll figure out something myself. We'll be in touch, okay?" It's not the best closing line but it's okay. She has another call to make.
Luckily, Entertainment 720 hasn't exactly taken off, and Tom answers on the first ring.
"Hey, Tom, how do you feel about some exposure doing some pro-bono work for your favorite candidate for mayor? It'd be great exposure." Luckily for the deserving citizens of Pawnee, Tom likes her, has actually visited a park, and owes her about a billion favors.
Ben's checking the Snerling Barnes and Noble for any members of Pawnee's City Hall. He mentioned that Chris likes to buy his groceries here, which figures, but this is a Happy Secret Date, so instead of moping, Leslie tucks her special-order biography of Eleanor Roosevelt under her arm and heads to the travel section.
There are all these huge books on the Best Beaches in America and even this thin volume called Vacationing In America's State Parks (which she already has three copies of) and, just like she hoped, little charts for identifying wildflowers and fish. And tropical flowers. There's even a small laminated guide to spotting different species of coral reef fish. She tucks them inside the dust jacket of her biography. Eleanor will keep them safe. Then she heads to the History & Politics section. Ben will be there if the coast is clear.
When she spots him in her favorite part of any bookstore, trying not to let her see that he's brought in a new Star Wars commentary, she casually approaches the shelves and runs her fingers against the spines like she's a femme fatale who frequents bookstores.
"What brings you here?" she says, keeping her voice low. When she looks at him through her eyelids -- okay, yeah, she practiced this last night until she didn't look stoned -- he's smiling in his dorky way, like somebody announced they were re-doing the Lord of the Rings movies.
"Well," he says, "it just so happens that I hate libraries. And I have this fantasy of kissing a beautiful woman in the Snerling Barnes and Noble."
If they were keeping up this play, Leslie would keep talking in her low voice and walk over to him slowly, but then she wouldn't get to kiss him, just the way Eleanor would approve of. They're not always the best about being sneaky, but they are very, very lucky.
April's updating the Play-Doh city and Andy's strumming his guitar, humming a melody over the chords. Right now she's working on the garden for their house, because this afternoon, avoiding work on Ron's behalf, she realized a year-round Christmas tree in the backyard would actually be pretty great. She's shaping the star for the top. Hopefully it won't flop over like the last two have.
"Hey," she says when Andy's stopped strumming for a few minutes, "where's Ben? He's always gone these days?"
When she looks up at him, Andy's giving her this weird look. She's seen it before -- he's her husband, after all -- and it means he's keeping a secret from her.
"Please tell me he's in the FBI. Or sleeping with prostitutes." It would be awesome to live with a criminal. Even though he's paying most of their rent, Ben's pretty boring, as roommates go, especially now that they use laundry detergent.
"I was told something in confident," he says. He's too sweet to correct.
"Do you want to have a big fight about how we can't have any secrets in this marriage?" Whenever she's channel surfing, those always seem to happen once people are married. She could put on a costume or something.
"How about I distract you," He rubs his hand on the dip of her back and she thinks yes before he continues, "with my own question?"
"Sure." So far the star is sticking to the top of the tree. "What's your question?"
"Would you, April Ludgate, like to sing a duet with me and Mouse Rat on the next song we do?" His eyes have gone all big and he's grinning, his face right next to him. Her husband. She reaches her hands up and pulls herself towards him for a kiss. She runs her tongue against the curve of his bottom lip, still smiling. He's scruffy but she loves that feeling, the way the stubble's rough against her fingertips.
"That was a yes, right?" he asks, breathing kinda hard when they finally pause for air. "Because you know how Burly got the last time we made him do the girl's part."
"Yeah it was a yes," she says. "That sounds like it could be cool." She could say I'd love to, but she's pretty sure Andy hears that anyway.
"So, what kind of swimsuit are you looking for?" Ann says, squinting at the department store racks with her beautiful determined Ann eyes. This is exactly why Leslie brought her along.
"I want something sexy, obviously, but also, I don't know, maybe something I could actually swim in? I don't want it to fall off while we're swimming with the dolphins." She puts back the crocheted red bikini she was considering for a second. It would probably fly off a lady's body if you looked at it funny.
"Can you do that at a state park?" Ann holds out a blue polka-dotted one piece that isn't frumpy looking. It could work.
"Florida is a magical place. I mean, Disney World, the Everglades, Cape Canaveral... I bet you can even talk to the dolphins if you know the right people." Maybe a tankini, even if that name has always bothered her. There's a red one with a halter top, and it comes in black. She could buy a few swimsuits. "And it'll be nice to have a break from the campaign."
"Yeah, what's with those commercials they've been airing for you lately? You look like a robot. And did they slow down your voice?"
"See, I told them the slow-mo was a bad idea, but they said you have to talk clearly and sound deep and firm and stuff. But I don't know." She tucks her hair behind her ear. These swimsuit considerations require a full field of vision. "Tom's going to be making some commercials for me. They should go on the air when I'm gone."
"Wait, you're solving this problem by using Tom? Tom Haverford? Tom Haverford who has twenty-six online dating profiles?" Ann's shaking two different suits for emphasis. It helps that they really clash against each other.
"Yeah, that Tom. But I'm short on campaign funds and the Order of Pawnee is definitely not helping. I mean, you saw the commercial they did. Tom whipped one up for me in two days, for free, that is way better than that slow-mo crap. And it has so many parks! He even worked in a clip of JJ's." Leslie doesn't mention that she ended up sitting next to him in the Dreamatorium for two nights in a row, after his first attempt was basically an add for Jay-Z, or maybe Entertainment 720. She's not really sure. Anyway, their actual efforts, three different commercials, were definitely worth the two hours of sleep she managed to grab in her office this morning, before Jerry got chased around by a squirrel and she had to go rescue him.
"Just as long as you've seen them. And inspected them closely. And delivered them to the TV stations yourself. You don't know what he could try and sneak in." Ann turns her attention back to the racks and pulls out a little yellow polka-dot bikini. "This is definitely sexy enough. And it would look hot with your hair!"
"You think so?" Leslie holds the suit up to herself and twirls. It's not the most practical -- especially if they go on that scuba diving trip she dreamed about in her two-hour nap -- but it would be really cute. She can imagine the look on Ben's face when she unveils it, the tilt of his smile. Ann nods firmly, like she's telling a patient they definitely don't have cancer. "Okay, I'll try it on."
They turn to the racks again. Ann pulls out this dark red swimsuit that will look great against her skin, especially now with her summer tan. It seems like her river of boyfriends has slowed down to a trickle, but maybe she'll find a keeper at the Indiana Dunes or the Pawnee public pool. You never know.
"Are you going to be okay helping out with the summer parks stuff next week?" Leslie thumbs through a new rack of suits. They all would make her look like a rainbow threw up sparkles on her. "That bassoon quartet's coming in on Wednesday. Are you still good for them to stay with you?"
"I guess," Ann says, pulling out a rainbow-colored zebra print two-piece and making a face. "What's their big thing again?"
"They dress up as Lady Gaga and dance and stuff. It was this Youtube thing. They're cheap, and the education department cut the orchestra last spring, so at least these kids will find out what a bassoon is before they hit grad school. Or after ten years of being a nurse." She nudges Ann. Thank god for Wikipedia. "And then there's the game of tag that's open to all the elementary school kids. Did you get my email with the contacts for the pizza?"
"Yup. And your email about the birdwatching tour. Don't you think Jerry will be fine doing that on his own?"
"Remember when I told you about Jerry getting chased by a squirrel? Yesterday? Jerry definitely needs help birdwatching." Leslie considers the suits in her hand. So far there are five. Hopefully two of them are okay and then she's good for these state parks. And beaches. And, whatever she and Ben decide to do. "Chris said it was okay if you moved your nursing schedule around. I think he even called the hospital to check."
"That's my girl," Ann smiles at her. Over coffee last week, Ann had convinced her that Chris really isn't so awful. She has this calm, authoritative way of saying things that Leslie's been copying on the campaign trail. If she wins the mayor spot, she'll have to be sure to thank Ann Perkins, nurse and friend extraordinaire, in her acceptance speech. Anyway Leslie's still not completely sure, but at least Ann has talked her into appreciating Chris's positive qualities. Like his positivity.
"I think we're good," Leslie says. "You ready to endure the trauma of the fitting room?"
April looks so beautiful in the moonlight, Andy thinks. They're doing their own ghost tour of Pawnee. It's easy because according to this book on the Womapoke that Kyle randomly gave him, there are people buried seriously everywhere. There's even a spooky mist on the ground. At first he thought it might be ghosts, because the mist is kind of what they look like, but April said no, it was mist or dew or something.
April doesn't believe in ghosts, she says, but her hand is on his arm pretty tightly. So either she's afraid or she just wants to feel his manly muscles. Either of these things is okay with him.
"That's Ben's car," April says all of a sudden, pointing towards the road. "We should follow him."
Before he can talk her out of it, she's pulling him after her. She may be tiny, but his wife is definitely a strong woman. And it's really fun, to be running through the night with April. They're going so fast he can hardly breathe but that's fun too, it's like the air tastes even better every chance he gets to suck it inside of him.
They turn up Leslie's street and April almost yells something but Andy covers her mouth with his hand. She licks it, which gross but also strangely nice, but he keeps his hand there until Ben's parked in front of Leslie's and gone inside, doing his best Burt Macklin impression. Andy should probably give him some pointers because he looks pretty ridiculous.
"Now honey," he says, trying not to be distracted by the shapes April's tracing with her tongue against his hand, "this is a secret. And now you know it. Ben said that Chris will fire him and Leslie if he finds out about them. You know that I owe Leslie about a kajillion favors. So we need to keep this a secret, like a national treasure kind of secret."
"We need Ben to pay the rent," she says, once he's taken his hand away. He can't help staring at her tongue while she talks. "They're not gross together. It's a secret."
This is the part where he wants to yell April Ludgate is the best wife in the world!, but that would kind of ruin the whole secret thing, so instead he kisses her until it feels like he's run a thousand miles. The air tastes so good against her smile.
"Hey Chris," Ben says, muttering the words against Leslie's shoulder in warm sleepy puffs of air. "I'm really sorry to call so late. I just found out that my grandma died."
There's a sound that sounds like crying and sadness, although Leslie can't quite make out the words. Ben traces a star into the skin right above her shoulderblades, which makes Chris's words matter even less.
"Yeah, it was really sudden. My mom wants me to go up to Minnesota and help out with stuff. I might -- yeah, I might need the week. Would you be okay with that? Okay. Thanks a lot, Chris." There's a pause and he draws another star, like he's planning on turning her into a constellation. "No, she always said she didn't want flowers at her funeral. You don't have to send anything. Thanks, thanks, I should probably go. I'm heading out really early tomorrow."
That part is true, at least. They're leaving for Miami before sunrise, so nobody will spot his car and realize they're in it together, that his grandma's death didn't just coincidentally coincide with the one vacation she's taken in the last ten years. And if they leave that early, he can spend the night at her house. She rests her nose against him and inhales, the warm skin smell of him, a little spice and oregano. The real thing is so much better than the traces after he leaves in the middle of the night.
He sets the phone on the nightstand and turns his full attention on her.
"We're going to have to come up with my dead grandma's hypothetical funeral arrangements," he says, pulling her hair away from her face and tangling it between his fingers.
"We have a whole long drive," she tells him, and kisses the dip in his shoulder. They should probably get some sleep, but when Ben kisses her, Thomas Jefferson style -- even if he had slaves, he was definitely the sexiest founding father -- she reminds herself that sleep is for the weak. Especially at a time like this.
"Our nation is in peril," he whispers against her lips, making tonight amazing and melodramatic, their own Revolution, "our freedom is at stake."
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, she thinks, and pulls him closer towards her.
part 4!