Are Pantsuits and Some Hairdos Inherently Gay? (1/1)
Title: Are Pantsuits and Some Hairdos Inherently Gay?
Author: halfsquat
Fandom: Parks & Recreation
Pairing: Leslie/Ann (OTP)
Rating: PG-13/Teen, language & kissing
Lure: Is Leslie really as naïve as she seems?
Genre: Comedy/Romance?
Word Count: 3,347 aprox.
Summary: Omniscient 3rd person focusing from Ann’s point of view of a gayer, remixed episode 105: The Banquet.
Spoilers: Ep. 105 “The Banquet” and any episodes before that.
Disclaimer: All characters and dialogue from Parks & Recreation belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. All nonsense unrelated to Park & Recreation and all divergence from their scripts is my doing. Some dialogue does come directly from the episode; I mean no copyright infringement by doing so. I merely wanted to give my take on events without completely changing the chain of events.
Author's Notes: This is my first real fan fiction piece; So, be gentle. Firm, but gentle. I'm sorry if anyone is out of character. Feel free to voice any constructive criticisms. I can take 'em and they will be appreciated. Enjoy (hopefully)!
~@~
Ann gives Leslie a shocked once-over. A disbelieving twice-over. If it were anyone else, Ann would think, 'Get the straight razor, it's K.D. freakin' Lang'.
But, it's Leslie- it's Leslie Knope, whose naivety would outdo her enthusiasm if only the two could stop their giggling after the trampoline competition and subsequent face-to-floor. But that hairdo, coupled with that pantsuit, hollers, “queer as a three-dollar-bill” with a slightly drag king sneer. Except it's on Leslie, who is perhaps the most disarming and bubbly woman Ann has met. It's downright Hillaryesqe, except for the part where Hillary is not actually gay. Or a drag king. Or queen. Definite vibes, though. Definite vibes.
While she watches Leslie talking with a handful of people, Ann's slight smile straightens. Is Leslie gay?
'Maybe she's attempting Hillary Clinton, but accidentally butching it up? That must be it', Ann reassures herself, 'and Ms.Clinton most definitely is and was not gay'. Momentarily, Ann grapples with why exactly Hillary gives her the "have you met my roommate?" vibe, tries to blame it on the pantsuits, but finally decides she can't blame it solely the pantsuits. After all, unlike flannel, pantsuits aren't inherently gay.
When Leslie excitedly makes her way over, Ann smiles while her head tilts in appraisal. Tonight is not really panning out as she expected.
"Ann!"
"Leslie," Ann replies with less gusto, but equal warmth.
"You look great!" Leslie gives her a once over. Ann shifts her weight from one side to the other under the brief inspection.
"Thank you. Your hair, uhm," Ann starts, but Leslie interjects.
"I know. Great, huh? Salvatore called it 'The Mayor'. I think I have this idea. I mean, Arnold Schwarzenegger had that accent, you know? The hair will be my signature like his...” She sets a finger to her chin in contemplation. “I'm thinking," Leslie pauses, sets her face in a stern, Aryan expression and tries on Arnold's Austrian accent: "I could be the Mayor-inator." The squared off shoulders, awkward face, and background of their conversation are really the only indicators that could lead one to believe Leslie was impersonating Arnold. That’s how pathetic the attempt was. Ann gives a humoring smile as a neighboring assemblage of people grabs Leslie’s attention.
"The name, it kind of sounds like marinating...", but Leslie doesn't hear her. The group has fully caught her eye and apparently her ears as well.
"Those are the zoning bored members! I see Genine Restreppo. C'mon."
Leslie holds her arm out for Ann to fit hers with. Ann realizes how it might look, with Leslie looking all power-lesbian and all, but she can't bring herself to dim Leslie's over-enthusiastic smile. She still can’t wrap her head around the why’s, though. The hairdo must be a prank on Leslie or, perhaps, a misunderstanding. I mean, besides even that, Leslie isn’t even gay. She is so obviously not gay. Wait, why does it matter it anyway? While Ann wavers between pensive and amused, they walk arm-in-arm towards the group.
And, it is then when Ann realizes what Leslie's attire and hair really meant for them tonight. As she tries to hide her slight and quickly tightening smile, she realizes what their combined attire means for tonight. They are a them, and she is Leslie's freakin' trophy wife.
Cutting off Ann's thoughts, Leslie, in her excitement, drops Ann's arm, grabs Ann's hand and tugs her along. The childlike behavior is by no means uncharacteristic, or even unexpected from Leslie, but coupled with the looks ranging from perplexed to admonishing and, perhaps, even intrigued, Ann cannot help but see the action through that new, gay- oh-so-very-gay- lens.
She wasn't quite sure what holding Leslie's hand would feel like, but it wasn't this. Despite the butch-tastic suit and hair, Ann expected something akin to a limp fish handshake. But, it’s firm and warm. And, while Ann had jokingly suspected strong cologne, she can only smell faint fruity shampoo. Probably strawberry. Ann smiles inwardly. Well, it is a fruity scent- rather fitting. But, the smile fades as Ann wonders which looks gayer: locked arms or handholding.
~@~
The grip on her hand remains as they're introduced to the zoning board members. As the group's eyes land on the "couple", Ann realizes she's been fixating on Leslie's warm hand, pulls her hand discreetly away, smiles, and then proceeds to ponder why exactly she was focusing on Leslie's hand anyway. She thinks back on Councilman Frank Schnabble's comment concerning how brave they are and almost feels guilty, although it makes no sense. They aren't a couple. They aren't even gay. Leslie is not gay.
Off in her mental distance, Ann can hear a conversation over zoning and Leslie's off-center jokes. Ann interjects with applicable information, comments, or perfunctory laughter for ill-placed, bland jokes. As the zoning crowd dissipates, Leslie's attempts at jokes increase as well as the size of her smile. But, soon, it's only Leslie and Ann standing there with Ann peering into her wine glass and occasionally at Leslie.
It’s times like this Ann feels bad for Leslie. She tries so hard, and she tries to do the right thing: this pit-to-park plan. But, it just never really pans out for her. Despite Leslie’s glowing smile, Ann can almost see the disappointment circling her eyes.
~@~
Ann glances up; someone is in front of the microphone. In preparation for the speech, both Ann and Leslie sit down, but not before Leslie pulls out the chair for Ann to sit down. It’s almost as though she is in on the joke. Or maybe it’s not a joke. Whatever.
“Hey Lezzzzlie,” Tom greets. Ann rolls her eyes.
“Hi Tom!” Leslie replies, but Ann’s attention is already on the microphone.
Ann has no idea who this someone is, but someone is giving a speech in honor of Marlene Griggs-Knope. She glances at Knope junior, who looks enthralled. Valiantly, Ann tries to keep a studious attention span, but fails. Another unknown-to-Ann starts a speech.
Someone’s foot gently taps Ann’s and she glances to her left, Leslie, and then to her right, Tom. One is enthused and the other is battling boredom, but both are watching the speech giver. It happens again, but this time someone’s unshod foot rubs the back of her calf. She looks again. Nothing. No grinning. No giggling. She pretends to drop something and peeks under the tablecloth. Everyone’s shoes are on.
Well, at least she's dressed up and there's good wine. This is perhaps the nicest event Ann's been to since her boyfriend broke both his legs. Maybe even a while before that. Leslie's here, too, which is nice. It could be worse.
Leslie's painful-to-watch speech comes and goes. The half-assed supposedly accidental footsie did stop when Leslie spoke. But, maybe, Tom is messing with her because Leslie looks so butch. What a great joke, ha ha, make Ann think Leslie’s hitting on her. He’s such a douche bag sometimes. The foot definitely came from the left, though. Ann sighs.
~@~
The speeches finally end and it's then that Leslie insists they "mingle" and "make connections". They've got to "play politics". Again, she's dragged by her hand to a small circle of people, which quickly dissipates, though not as quickly as their previous crowd.
As Ann feels her own hand brush Leslie's hip, she wonders how she ended up leaning in so closely and can only blame it on nerves. The second time, when Leslie's hand brushes her hip, she blames it on Leslie's nerves over the pit's zoning. On the third brush, their hands touch and it's the wine, but Ann still takes another glass.
After the crowd has fully diminished, Ann feels her hand getting tugged on for what she thinks is the tenth time this evening. Leslie's quickly leading her to her mother, and soon, they are hand-in-hand in front of the woman. She had looked forward to meeting Marlene Griggs-Knope, but she had thought she’d look a little less gay than at present.
"This is Ann Perkins," Leslie says while gesturing from her mother to Ann. At least they're no longer holding hands. Ann gives a nervous smile and almost shrugs.
"Oh, right, Leslie's new friend." Her taut-faced mother gives an appraising nod, but with her head slightly cocked back, the smile is more perfunctory and inquisitive than friendly. It makes Ann uneasy. This on top of the footsie, handholding, and accidental touching is a bit much. Unfortunately, despite the wine, Ann's level of awkwardity, as she has dubbed it, has steadily increased. Or, maybe, because of the wine- at least that's what she is blaming her Leslie-orientated wandering thoughts on.
"Yeah, friends, just friends. I have a boyfriend. He is a man," is all Ann can muster while double-handedly cradling her drink. She looks down at it and thinks, 'Damn, even the phrasing describing this is awkward.'
~@~
Ann's smile flickers on and off as the night's conversations wind around their perceived coupling, but eventually Leslie wanders off to talk privately with her mother. Ann is left as solo-trophy wife with Tom and Mark as accompaniment, but it's short-lived.
Tom wants to leave and hit on girls at some bar. Go figure. He invites Mark; Mark almost declines, but ends up deciding to bail on Leslie as well. They invite Ann, but she declines. She begs them to stay since they are the only people she knows other than Leslie, but no dice. Ann makes a sarcastic comment on how she'd come to hit on girls too, but Tom takes her too seriously. She rolls her eyes, ignores him, and soon the two men leave. Unfortunately Leslie hasn't returned.
Ann sits wondering why she declined. Leslie is well meaning, but she is the reason Ann is sitting here- over-dressed and a perceived trophy wife. She has barely talked to anyone and begged Tom and Mark to stay so she’d at least have someone to talk to; yet, she’s still sitting here while Leslie entertains some unknown-to-Ann by tapping spoons on her knees. Ann smiles a little and takes another sip of wine.
~@~
An enthused looking Leslie sits down and Ann's just thrilled for the company, although she's still thinking about her flippant comment about hitting on girls. She imagines Leslie and her in a bar while they cruise for chicks. Cruise for chicks? She smiles.
She keeps smiling until she hears Ms.Griggs-Knope's plans for Leslie to blackmail a zoning board member. Somehow, Leslie has managed to either convince herself it's not blackmail, legitimately not realize it, or, perhaps, her mother has the ability to goad Leslie into anything. 'How much do I really know about Leslie anyway?' Gently, Ann tries to tell her it's a slimy thing to do, which simply disintegrates into Leslie telling her politics is harder than nursing. She means well. She really does. Ann sighs. Maybe Leslie simply doesn't get it- just like she doesn't get the extremely non-hetero impression she is giving off with her suit and hair.
"I think your mom's giving you bad advice," Ann ventures in hope of nudging Leslie into the light-hearted, good direction that Ann has become accustomed to. But, Leslie surprises her.
"I don't think so." Leslie is almost petulant, childlike in her weird way, but adamant. Although almost surprised out of it, Ann can still feel her frustration growing.
"Do you just do everything your mom tells you to do?"
"Do you just do everything your boyfriend tells you to do? Make any pancakes lately?"
"He has two broken legs."
"Yeah and he's got three crutches. And, one of them is you and the other two are crutches." Despite the childlike phrasing and tone, Leslie looks serious. For the first time tonight, Leslie has really taken Ann aback. It is partially because it's so out-of-character. It's one of those gleams of Leslie's with-it-ness that makes Ann question exactly how naive she really is.
But, she is mostly surprised because Leslie's right. She had managed to push her boyfriend temporarily out of mind and was even managing well, despite his phone calls for her to pick him up submarine sandwiches, among other things. Between the gathered's looks and her exhaustion, she has had enough.
"Ya' know what. I don't need to be here." She gets abruptly up and heads down the corridor. Mouth slightly open, Leslie looks down while her eyebrows crinkle because she knows she went too far.
~@~
Ann hears the doorbell, and she is not quite sure what to expect. Maybe her boyfriend ordered pizza, although she brought him the strange ham and meatball sub that he had wanted.
She ponders a few scenarios as she tiredly walks to the door; however, she didn’t particularly care any farther than her mild curiosity took her, which was Dominos, Pizza Hut, or burglar. Ann is tired and not completely thrilled at answering the door in her tank top. But, she certainly did not expect Leslie Knope on her doorstep. All the same, she cannot help but smile and invite her in.
“I just wanted to tell you I didn’t go through with it- blackmailing that woman. I tried, but I just couldn’t do it.” Leslie says guiltily.
“Good. That’s a good thing. It wasn’t you.”
“You know there was definitely some truth about that thing you said about me and Andy.” As Ann speaks, Leslie pulls a face.
“No. What?” The face pulls even more as the insincerity of her tone increases.
“Sorry.” Ann says.
“Me, too.”
Leslie leans in for a hug and Ann follows suit. It’s then when Andy hobbles in on his crutches.
"Hey! What the hell! Oh, hi Leslie. Sorry, I thought you were a dude.” He laughs and Leslie increases the distance between her and Ann. The girls give lopsided smiles to one another. Satisfied his girlfriend is fine, Andy hobbles off to bed.
“I’m proud of you.” Ann says. While she smiles, Ann’s fingertips unconsciously land on Leslie’s knee. Leslie smiles warmly back. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Yeah. Politics is rough. Gotta unwind. It’s pretty cutthroat.”
“Beer?”
“Yeah, of course, you know me: Joe Six-pack.” Leslie leans back, places her fingertips in her waistband like Ann’s seen Al Bundy do countless times on Married with Children. Ann chuckles softly and pads her way into the kitchen.
By the time she returns, Leslie’s undone her “The Mayor” and her hair rests in wavy blonde curls around her neck. The severe-looking black jacket is draped on the arm of the couch and a button or two of the shirt has been undone. She looks perfectly relaxed.
“Beer me!” Leslie whisper-shouts so as not to wake Andy. Ann rolls her eyes, sets down two beers and a bowl of popcorn.
~@~
An hour later and two beers each farther, Leslie and Ann are bored of watching reality shows. They had dimmed the lights in anticipation of a movie, but apparently, the DVD player broke unbeknownst to Ann. There were Doritos conspuiously in the disc slot. During a muted commercial, Ann turns to Leslie. The glow of the television nearly makes her bleach-blonde hair white, but it doesn’t age her. It simply looks pretty.
“Do you realize how we looked tonight?” Ann ventures.
“Yeah, freakin’ great!” Leslie raises her hand for a high five. Ann reluctantly and lightly high fives her.
“No, no seriously. People thought we were together.”
“But, we are together? We’re both working on the pit.”
“No, like together, together.” Leslie looks confused a moment, but then makes an “oh” face.
“Like a lesbian couple together, Leslie.”
“What? No. What?” Leslie pulls the same face from earlier. Ann nods. “No. What… seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“But why?” Leslie looks truly confounded, and Ann can’t help but rethink every time she thought this woman was anything but naïve. Was this woman truly capable of footsie under the table? It simply didn’t click.
“Well, for starters, your hairdo.” Ann points at the now dismantled remnants. “It’s pretty short, and, well, butch. And then there was the masculine black and white pantsuit.” For emphasis, Ann runs a finger along the collar of Leslie’s shirt and then pulls her hand away. “It didn’t help we were both dressed to the nines while everyone else was more casual. They thought I was your trophy wife.” Leslie snort-laughs in response and sips from her almost empty beer.
“Well, I just like to look good. I take this seriously I want to help people.” Ann smiles softly at that comment.
“I know you do. That’s what I admire most about you. You’re a good person.”
“Really? You admire me?” Ann nods. Just smiling and holding their beers, they look at each other.
“Thanks… you know I admire you too, right?- your nursing and then your helping me with the park. At the meeting, you were the only one who didn’t just yell at me. You wanted to help…” Leslie looks down into her beer bottle. “It meant a lot. People don’t really take me seriously or they just want to let off steam at you. You thought I could really do it and wanted to be a part of it, too.”
Ann sets her hand on Leslie’s knee for the second time this night. ‘She’s so sweet.’ Ann thinks. Leslie looks up, her eyebrows slightly creased and a little hopeful. The Technicolor television throws soft colors into her hair and gently slopes her face. A small, insecure smile quirks there.
Without thinking, Ann follows an uncharacteristic impulse. Wanting to reassure Leslie, Ann leans in towards her. Leslie just gives her the deer-in-headlights look, but Ann plunges on and presses her lips to Leslie’s. If you’re halfway there you might as well go the mile. Ann closes her eyes.
Despite the butch get-up, Ann can feel a small amount of lip-gloss on Leslie’s lips. She can smell that fruity shampoo smell from earlier, too, but it smells warmer. At first, neither of them really responds. They hover there, lips pressed like statues until Ann moves her lips ever so slightly.
But, then Leslie starts to kiss her and a hand finds its way softly to the back of Ann’s neck. It gently presses her closer. She seems confident now and nothing like the normal, naïve Leslie. It’s one of those gleams again, where Ann suspects every previously naïve word of Leslie’s turns to sarcastic wit, and she wonders how naïve Leslie really is. Ann almost feels set up, thinking the footsie was real, the butch get up was on purpose just to get the thought in her head. But, that’d be ridiculous. Positively ridiculous. From Leslie? Unconsciously, Ann’s hand finds its way to Leslie’s hip and grips it, pulls her closer. Leslie’s tongue traces her lips for entrance.
It’s then that Ann hears a rustle from Andy’s bedroom and the start of the clickity-clack of his crutches to the bathroom. Both women quickly pull away slightly out of breath. Apprehensively, they look towards the corridor that they expect Andy from, but he doesn’t come. Soon, they hear a toilet flush, some more clickity-clacks, and the rustles of his return to bed. Leslie looks at Ann.
“I should go.”
“But, you can’t drive.” Ann points to the four beers on the table.
“I’ll walk. Not far. Just a few blocks.” Leslie grabs her jacket and makes her way to the door before Ann can interject. She opens it turns around and gives a half-hearted little wave.
“Are you sure? You can crash on the couch.” Leslie gives a shake of the head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night. Thanks for the beer and popcorn.” The door closes, and Ann is still sitting in the glow of the muted television. What exactly was going to happen tomorrow? She looked back in the direction of the bedroom where Andy must be sleeping. Somehow she didn’t quite feel guilty or even confused as to why it happened. She just wished Leslie had decided to crash on the couch so they could keep watching crappy reality TV and talking.
End.
~@~