"Turn the Page" // Parks and Recreation
Title: Turn the Page
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: Spoilers for "Born and Raised”
Word Count: 1,535
Summary: Secret notes and city legends.
Note: Also spoilers for Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America.
(1)
April gets seven pages of a lovingly rendered note, and he gets…nothing. The inside cover and endsheets of his copy of her book are blank save for his name. Just a “Ben” printed neatly in the upper left hand corner. Even Jerry got more from her than he does.
Ben swallows the hurt and looks up to smile at her because yes, they are broken up and it’s for the best, but even though he’s not her boyfriend, he’s still her friend, isn’t he?
Leslie is looking around the room as she distributes the books, carefully making sure to avoid his eye. She’s bursting with pride, glowing in the way she does when she’s accomplished something-which is all the time-and he can’t feel angry or sad or disappointed. This chance to run for office means the world to her. If she gave it up? For him? Then she wouldn’t be the Leslie Knope he fell for. She wouldn’t be the reason he stayed. Wouldn’t be the reason he finally found a home again.
(2)
Ben doesn’t get a proper chance to read over the book until after he and Tom have “tucked” Joan Calamezzo in bed. When he gets home he takes the longest, hottest shower he’s taken in years just to feel clean again.
“We’ll have to start charging you for using extra hot water!” April shouts from the living room when he finally emerges. He never knows when she’s joking and when she’s not.
Andy lumbers over a minute later and peeks his head into Ben’s room. “Don’t worry about paying extra, man. I only take showers every few days, so you can use my hot water.”
“Thanks?” Ben says, and Andy grins before he leaves.
It’s been a long day, but probably longer for Leslie. It’s not weird that she’s in his thoughts. She kind of always is. So it’s not unusual that he pulls out her book and begins thumbing through it, if only to read her words, to see her face smiling at him from the cover. He turns the page.
Almost immediately he begins to notice the handwritten notes. Little scribbles in her slanted handwriting. By a picture of Ramsett Park she’s written, “My first memory of going here was when I was four. My dad took me to play to play on the swing sets, and when I was at the highest point of my swing I let go and flew into the air. The view was beautiful. I could see the whole park, the treeline in the distance, kids playing baseball on the diamond. It was amazing! I wish I could have shared that experience with you. Well, except for the part where I hit the ground and had to get five stitches in my chin.”
It continues like that, tiny notations in some places, long, rambling stories in other parts. Inexplicably, she’s also pasted in a number of pictures of unicorns, usually next to a poem she’s written about Pawnee. Next to his picture on the page with the essay he contributed to her book, she’s drawn a kiss monster attacking his face. It makes his heart seize up in his chest.
“Oh, Leslie,” he murmurs to himself, still engrossed in the book.
Maybe she didn’t give him a note, but she’s given him more. She’s given him the story of her life, the details they hadn’t gotten to while they were dating. “These were the things I wanted to tell you about my life, about Pawnee,” she writes on page 120. “I just thought we’d have more time.”
He doesn’t go to bed until he’s gone through the whole book. Before he dims his light Ben notices one last thing. On the running head to the last three pages there is one word written next to each page number. He flips from one page to the next to the next. The first page reads, “I.” The second one, “Miss.” And the last one reads, “You.”
Ben places the book on his nightstand and shuts off the light. In his dreams she’s running for office, giving the speeches she practiced in her sleep. In his dreams he’s not in the audience like he is in real life. In his dreams he’s standing next to her on the stage.
(3)
“To Leslie Knope,” Ron says, raising a glass of what suspiciously looks like moonshine. “Born in Eagleton, but a Pawneeian through and through!”
“Hear, hear!” the Parks Department shouts, clinking their glasses together before resuming the waffle binge.
The Joan situation has been neutralized and Leslie’s campaign is back in order. In the office she gives him a quick look before glancing away to focus on her shoes. So they’re back to square one, he guesses by her look.
Ben’s clutching at his copy of his book, flipping through occasionally, reading her notes over and over even though she’s right there. She’s right there but she’s still far away. It makes him feel like he’s losing his mind. Ann shoots him a furtive glance and he only tips his head as if to say, “Everything’s fine.” Ron comes over and pats him on the back in a reassuring way, which someone might mistake for comfort, but then calls him “Jim” as he walks away. Ben’s shaking his head in confusion when Leslie sidles up next to him.
She slips him a note, and when he unfolds the piece of paper all it says is this: “Meet me at the medium-sized fountain at Wamapokestone Park at 6pm?”
(4)
“Hey,” he says when he sees her. Her back’s to him, but he would know her from any angle, any distance.”
She turns and the sun is at her back. The autumn light filters through her hair and she looks like she’s been made from spun gold. “Hey,” she says gently, reaching out to him before pulling her hand back, as though she’s just remembered anyone would see them, especially anyone with a high-powered camera and a long-range lens.
“So,” he starts, but words fail him.
“Everything’s been so crazy lately that I haven’t had a chance just to talk to you,” she says, still not looking him in the eye. “And I’ve missed that.”
“I’ve missed that, too,” he says, his throat going dry. When she doesn’t say anything, he takes a step closer to her, checks her body language to make sure this is ok. Her shoulders seem to relax when he nears, and Ben fights the urge to put his arms around her, to pull her in for a hug.
“This is the famous Wamapokestone fountain,” she says. “It was built on the site of the grave of Hair-Like-Fire and Jedediah Smalls, Pawnee’s most famous star-crossed lovers.” Leslie points to an oak tree about ten feet away. The leaves are turning to ochre and red as autumn begins to paint Pawnee in colors of fall. “That’s the Love Tree over there. The story goes, Hair-Like-Fire would meet Smalls underneath its branches. It was all great and good for them until Hair-Like-Fire’s father caught her and Smalls doing it there.”
“Wow,” he says. “That’s romantic?”
“Isn’t it?” she sighs, and she looks dreamy and far away, like along the horizon she has spotted a haven swimming in waffles and maple syrup.
“Thank you for the book,” Ben says. “And for the notes. That…that meant a lot to me. Means a lot to me.”
Leslie looks up at him, almost shy, and he wishes he had known her when they were younger. He wishes he had known her forever. She takes his hand with her left and holds out her right hand to show him something in her palm. She unfolds her fingers and he sees it. It’s a shiny Lincoln penny, bright and coppery in the fading sunlight.
“Make a wish,” he says with a nod toward the fountain, his heart hammering in his chest.
“You think?”
“I do.” He grips her hand tighter.
She squeezes her eyes shut and tosses the coin. It quietly splashes into the water.
“Good wish?” he asks.
“The best,” she says. “I guess we should get going. The park closes at dusk.”
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” Ben says, not wanting to go, wishing it were summer again so that the sun wouldn’t set until almost 9pm.
“See you there.”
They finally drop hands and begin their walk to the parking lot in silence.
When it’s finally time to part, him to his car and Leslie to hers, he says, “Page 162 and 163.”
Leslie almost drops her keys, her eyes wide in surprise. “What?”
“Page 162 and 163 of your book. ‘According to legend, if you hold the hand of your lover and throw a penny into the fountain, the two of you will be together forever.’ I read your book from end to end, Leslie.”
“Ben…”
“And I think it’s great. I think you’re great. So . . .thank you, for that. For everything.”
“Do you think the legend is true?” she blurts out, leaning toward him like she’s a magnet that doesn’t want to be unstuck from its other half.
“I hope so,” he says. He wants it to be more true than anything else in the world.
She nods and composes herself. “I hope so, too.”
[the end]
Click the following to see the book passage referenced in this story.
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: Spoilers for "Born and Raised”
Word Count: 1,535
Summary: Secret notes and city legends.
Note: Also spoilers for Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America.
(1)
April gets seven pages of a lovingly rendered note, and he gets…nothing. The inside cover and endsheets of his copy of her book are blank save for his name. Just a “Ben” printed neatly in the upper left hand corner. Even Jerry got more from her than he does.
Ben swallows the hurt and looks up to smile at her because yes, they are broken up and it’s for the best, but even though he’s not her boyfriend, he’s still her friend, isn’t he?
Leslie is looking around the room as she distributes the books, carefully making sure to avoid his eye. She’s bursting with pride, glowing in the way she does when she’s accomplished something-which is all the time-and he can’t feel angry or sad or disappointed. This chance to run for office means the world to her. If she gave it up? For him? Then she wouldn’t be the Leslie Knope he fell for. She wouldn’t be the reason he stayed. Wouldn’t be the reason he finally found a home again.
(2)
Ben doesn’t get a proper chance to read over the book until after he and Tom have “tucked” Joan Calamezzo in bed. When he gets home he takes the longest, hottest shower he’s taken in years just to feel clean again.
“We’ll have to start charging you for using extra hot water!” April shouts from the living room when he finally emerges. He never knows when she’s joking and when she’s not.
Andy lumbers over a minute later and peeks his head into Ben’s room. “Don’t worry about paying extra, man. I only take showers every few days, so you can use my hot water.”
“Thanks?” Ben says, and Andy grins before he leaves.
It’s been a long day, but probably longer for Leslie. It’s not weird that she’s in his thoughts. She kind of always is. So it’s not unusual that he pulls out her book and begins thumbing through it, if only to read her words, to see her face smiling at him from the cover. He turns the page.
Almost immediately he begins to notice the handwritten notes. Little scribbles in her slanted handwriting. By a picture of Ramsett Park she’s written, “My first memory of going here was when I was four. My dad took me to play to play on the swing sets, and when I was at the highest point of my swing I let go and flew into the air. The view was beautiful. I could see the whole park, the treeline in the distance, kids playing baseball on the diamond. It was amazing! I wish I could have shared that experience with you. Well, except for the part where I hit the ground and had to get five stitches in my chin.”
It continues like that, tiny notations in some places, long, rambling stories in other parts. Inexplicably, she’s also pasted in a number of pictures of unicorns, usually next to a poem she’s written about Pawnee. Next to his picture on the page with the essay he contributed to her book, she’s drawn a kiss monster attacking his face. It makes his heart seize up in his chest.
“Oh, Leslie,” he murmurs to himself, still engrossed in the book.
Maybe she didn’t give him a note, but she’s given him more. She’s given him the story of her life, the details they hadn’t gotten to while they were dating. “These were the things I wanted to tell you about my life, about Pawnee,” she writes on page 120. “I just thought we’d have more time.”
He doesn’t go to bed until he’s gone through the whole book. Before he dims his light Ben notices one last thing. On the running head to the last three pages there is one word written next to each page number. He flips from one page to the next to the next. The first page reads, “I.” The second one, “Miss.” And the last one reads, “You.”
Ben places the book on his nightstand and shuts off the light. In his dreams she’s running for office, giving the speeches she practiced in her sleep. In his dreams he’s not in the audience like he is in real life. In his dreams he’s standing next to her on the stage.
(3)
“To Leslie Knope,” Ron says, raising a glass of what suspiciously looks like moonshine. “Born in Eagleton, but a Pawneeian through and through!”
“Hear, hear!” the Parks Department shouts, clinking their glasses together before resuming the waffle binge.
The Joan situation has been neutralized and Leslie’s campaign is back in order. In the office she gives him a quick look before glancing away to focus on her shoes. So they’re back to square one, he guesses by her look.
Ben’s clutching at his copy of his book, flipping through occasionally, reading her notes over and over even though she’s right there. She’s right there but she’s still far away. It makes him feel like he’s losing his mind. Ann shoots him a furtive glance and he only tips his head as if to say, “Everything’s fine.” Ron comes over and pats him on the back in a reassuring way, which someone might mistake for comfort, but then calls him “Jim” as he walks away. Ben’s shaking his head in confusion when Leslie sidles up next to him.
She slips him a note, and when he unfolds the piece of paper all it says is this: “Meet me at the medium-sized fountain at Wamapokestone Park at 6pm?”
(4)
“Hey,” he says when he sees her. Her back’s to him, but he would know her from any angle, any distance.”
She turns and the sun is at her back. The autumn light filters through her hair and she looks like she’s been made from spun gold. “Hey,” she says gently, reaching out to him before pulling her hand back, as though she’s just remembered anyone would see them, especially anyone with a high-powered camera and a long-range lens.
“So,” he starts, but words fail him.
“Everything’s been so crazy lately that I haven’t had a chance just to talk to you,” she says, still not looking him in the eye. “And I’ve missed that.”
“I’ve missed that, too,” he says, his throat going dry. When she doesn’t say anything, he takes a step closer to her, checks her body language to make sure this is ok. Her shoulders seem to relax when he nears, and Ben fights the urge to put his arms around her, to pull her in for a hug.
“This is the famous Wamapokestone fountain,” she says. “It was built on the site of the grave of Hair-Like-Fire and Jedediah Smalls, Pawnee’s most famous star-crossed lovers.” Leslie points to an oak tree about ten feet away. The leaves are turning to ochre and red as autumn begins to paint Pawnee in colors of fall. “That’s the Love Tree over there. The story goes, Hair-Like-Fire would meet Smalls underneath its branches. It was all great and good for them until Hair-Like-Fire’s father caught her and Smalls doing it there.”
“Wow,” he says. “That’s romantic?”
“Isn’t it?” she sighs, and she looks dreamy and far away, like along the horizon she has spotted a haven swimming in waffles and maple syrup.
“Thank you for the book,” Ben says. “And for the notes. That…that meant a lot to me. Means a lot to me.”
Leslie looks up at him, almost shy, and he wishes he had known her when they were younger. He wishes he had known her forever. She takes his hand with her left and holds out her right hand to show him something in her palm. She unfolds her fingers and he sees it. It’s a shiny Lincoln penny, bright and coppery in the fading sunlight.
“Make a wish,” he says with a nod toward the fountain, his heart hammering in his chest.
“You think?”
“I do.” He grips her hand tighter.
She squeezes her eyes shut and tosses the coin. It quietly splashes into the water.
“Good wish?” he asks.
“The best,” she says. “I guess we should get going. The park closes at dusk.”
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” Ben says, not wanting to go, wishing it were summer again so that the sun wouldn’t set until almost 9pm.
“See you there.”
They finally drop hands and begin their walk to the parking lot in silence.
When it’s finally time to part, him to his car and Leslie to hers, he says, “Page 162 and 163.”
Leslie almost drops her keys, her eyes wide in surprise. “What?”
“Page 162 and 163 of your book. ‘According to legend, if you hold the hand of your lover and throw a penny into the fountain, the two of you will be together forever.’ I read your book from end to end, Leslie.”
“Ben…”
“And I think it’s great. I think you’re great. So . . .thank you, for that. For everything.”
“Do you think the legend is true?” she blurts out, leaning toward him like she’s a magnet that doesn’t want to be unstuck from its other half.
“I hope so,” he says. He wants it to be more true than anything else in the world.
She nods and composes herself. “I hope so, too.”
[the end]
Click the following to see the book passage referenced in this story.
