[Ficlet] picture perfect
Title: picture perfect
Characters/Pairings: Ben/Leslie plus family
Rating: PG
Word count: 500ish
A/N: I was reading the tropes discussion for Gov Shutdown that was...a week ago? Two weeks ago? And I wrote this. Unbeta'ed, so point out glaring errors, okay?
Leslie’s nervous. Everything has to go according to plan today, and really, the whole thing is far too important to squeeze into her lunch break, but she’s busy all week, and this was the most compatible time for everyone’s schedule, and - just breathe, Leslie.
The ground floor of City Hall is bustling like always, and as she rides the elevator up to the second floor she sucks in a few breaths, tries to calm her nerves. It’s not meant to be nerve-wracking, she knows, but she’s just so excited, and it’s her first time doing this, and-
The elevator dings and she steps out into the quiet of the second floor. Her heels clink on the linoleum as she makes her way to the wildflower mural. Ben’s already there, of course, sitting on the bench in front of the mural. Sweet, reliable Ben. He has his head down, understandly occupied, but he looks up at the sound of her approach and she’s stopped short by the sight of her husband cradling her sleeping daughter.
“Hey,” he shifts his hold on the baby and moves over on the bench to make space for her. “Is Ann coming?”
“Yeah.” She strokes her daughter’s hair back from her forehead and is rewarded with a slight wrinkling of her adorable little nose. “She texted me earlier, should be here soon.”
Right on cue Ann comes around the corner, camera bag slung over her shoulder, arms banded tightly around the squirming bundle in her arms.
“He's totally your son, Leslie. Wouldn't stop moving all morning." She deposits the wiggling baby in Leslie’s arms and tugs the portable tripod out of her bag. “I still don’t understand how those two are twins, fraternal or otherwise,” she says, as one sleeps peacefully in Ben’s arms and the other tries his best to break free of Leslie’s grasp.
It strikes Leslie sometimes, how even so young they’re already starting to exhibit different personality traits, distinct temperaments. Her daughter, who radiates a quiet assurance and tranquil calm that reminds her of her own mother; and her son, so curious about the world, a fiery ball of energy that never stops.
Ann adjusts the tripod with a final twist and frames the four of them with her fingers. “Scooch closer together,” she says, ducking to squint at them through the viewfinder.
“Okay, hold still.” Easier said then done but Leslie hangs onto her son and tries not to jostle him too much. The shutter clicks just as he manages to shove his socked foot into his mouth and his sister blinks her sleepy eyes open.
“Perfect!” Ann calls. Leslie’s inclined to agree.