August 2015 Drabbles
Rating: G-PG
Timeline: All over the place!
Summary: 1. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, 2. Can I Kiss You?" (1800s version), 3. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”, 4. “PILLOW FIGHT!”, 5. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”, 6. The Triplets' neighborhood newsletter, 7. Ben and Roller Skates, 8. Leslie is the big spoon when Ben doesn't feel good, 9. Pregnant Leslie/Ben sleepy cuddling, 10. Leslie catches Ben doing one of his 'sadness baths' when they're married
1. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Leslie says, sitting on the bed and watching Ben pack. Plaid shirts and skinny ties. All the boxer briefs that make his tight little buns look so delectable.
“Leslie, you’re not losing…seriously?” He gives her a puzzled look and pauses packing his small travel bag. “This is really an issue for you?”
“Well, where does this end, Ben? I mean, sure today it’s just a Healthy Cities Midwest conference for municipal managers and administrators, but tomorrow? Maybe you’ll start hiding vegetables in my food or you’ll leave me for a hot yoga instructor.” Leslie watches as his eyes go wide. “What?”
“Oh, um, nothing. Nothing. Hey, do I need a new travel bag? Maybe I should look for a new-”
“What?” She repeats in a more demanding tone. “Why are you all weird? Are you leaving me for a hot yoga instructor?”
“No,” he scoffs, seeming to settle down a bit. “No, of course not. Why would I do that? I just married you.”
“We’ve been married for almost a year,” Leslie corrects, making a mental note to check on the status of her amazing, dopey-face inducing anniversary gift to him-it should be ready in a few days.
Ben grins, forgoes his packing project, and leans in for a kiss. As his lips brush against hers, Leslie grabs his hand and pulls him forward, so that he ends up settling on top of her. They keep kissing regardless of the new position, his other hand now running along her hip, fingers pressing into her.
When he does eventually break away and roll off of her, they lie on their sides, just looking at each other.
“You know,” Ben starts, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face and push it behind her ear.
“You can always just pack a bag and come with me. Two nights in sunny, tropical Des Moines, I mean how is that not amazing-sounding?”
“Definitely tempting,” Leslie responds to his sarcasm, still smiling from all the rolling around and kissing.
“But I just started back at the Parks department. I can’t really take time off first thing.”
Ben shrugs, making a face. “You’re loss, babe. It’ll be nothing but wet snow, corn, and Minnesota jokes.”
She laughs and reaches out to take his hand again. “Besides, Ann is coming over tomorrow night and we’re not at all going to talk about that thing that she is doing soon. We’re going to watch a movie and we can pause it every ten minutes so she can pee.”
“That sounds like a good time,“ Ben agrees, as he gets up to resume his packing.
She holds onto him until the last moment, just letting go when she can no longer stretch her fingers to keep the contact.
“Right. And again, we will absolutely not be discussing her completely wrong decision to…do that thing. And if Chris wants her back early, he’ll just have to come here and try to take her. But I’ll fight him.”
“I know you will,” Ben tells her. “I’m sure Chris knows that too.”
“Oh, you better not come home from this conference with any fancy new ideas like whipped cream is bad for you or we should eat more chard. Because I will divorce you.”
“Wow. You have really strong opinions about everything tonight.”
“I’m just very passionate about whipped cream and Ann.”
Ben stops zipping up his bag and makes a face, eyebrow raised.
“Okay, that came out wrong. You know what I meant. And also about the hating chard.”
“I know,” Ben agrees. “Plus, chard is disgusting, we’re in agreement there.”
She nods. “But even so, I wouldn’t divorce you if suddenly one day you went crazy and wanted to eat chard. As long as you didn’t want me to eat it.”
“Seems fair. But babe, I mean, you do seem to like it a lot when I have a chard-on.”
____
2. "Can I Kiss You?" (1800s version)
Notes: Hi! So, this is just a drabble, but I think it’s going to turn into a bigger thing. I’ve honestly wanted to do more with Pawnee’s ridiculous old-timey laws since I first wrote that one kinkmeme fic last summer. So, this is maybe a start to that?
And yeah, the corn thing is a real 1800s euphemism. ;-)
* * *
“Can I kiss you?”
Leslie narrows her eyes at Mr. Wyatt’s question and says, “Well, we’re going to be married tomorrow, so yes, I think you can probably kiss me.”
She moves closer to the bars of her jail cell and Leslie finds that she has just enough room to push her lips far enough out for the narrow-framed man to lightly brush his lips to hers. And it’s good.
It’s not her first kiss by any means and it’s certainly not under the best of circumstances, but it’s definitely a really good kiss. In fact, Mr. Wyatt…Ben, seems nice.
For a jerk.
“You still think I’m a jerk, right?”
“Well-”
“I’m saving your life,” he argues, “I think that makes me not a jerk. Plus, I’ve always wanted a felon for a wife.”
Leslie sighs at his joke (she hopes it’s a joke), stepping back a few inches from her cell’s bars. “It’s an unfair and unjust law, but I did break it.”
Just a few days ago, while out walking one of Pawnee’s few green spaces, she had rolled up her sleeves, exposing her elbows-a Class A felony for an unmarried woman in 1887. She had found herself facing the penalty of being set adrift on Lake Michigan as soon as Sheriff Trumple could arrange transport north on a stagecoach.
But then Mr. Wyatt had stepped in and claimed to be her secret fiancé, saving her from going down in history as a frozen whore.
And aside from a few arguments in the town square and at his office at Pawnee’s City Hall, he’s basically a stranger but Leslie figures marrying Ben is better than becoming a human lady-popsicle.
Besides, he is pretty cute and he has an occupation, which is more than she can say for some of her other past suitors.
“Do you need anything?” Ben asks, looking anxiously around the jail.
“No. I’m fine. It’s actually not too bad for a cell. Plus my best friend Ann is stopping by later to talk about the wedding tomorrow and we can braid each other’s hair if I sit really close to the bars.”
“Well, okay,” Ben starts walking backwards towards the door. “I’m just going to, um…you know, go. Jails make me really nervous.”
“I know,” Leslie agrees, smiling. Every time one of the deputies walks by Ben practically jumps ten feet in the air.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Knope. Um, Leslie,” he says with a smile.
Leslie smiles back and gives Ben a little wave.
She then sits on her cot as she waits for Ann, beautiful nurse and her best friend in the whole world. Besides the hair braiding, she’s also going to have to ask Ann what the hell happens on the wedding night, because honestly she has no idea what having one’s corn ground could possibly mean.
And also vegetables are involved? Ugh.
____
3. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”
So, uh, this is that.
When he greets her at the door, Leslie just just kind of melts into Ben’s arms. And although she’d never admit this to anyone (not even him), working forty plus hours per week at the Parks department, in addition to the twenty to thirty hours she’s devoting to her campaign (not to mention her volunteer time for Wheels for Meals on Wheels), is making her, well, a little tired. Worn out. Okay, fine, flat-out exhausted.
Leslie can’t even remember how many days in a row she’s worn this red sweater.
But of course, she’s still excellent at multitasking. She’s just going to sleep for a month once the campaign is over.
“So, I’ve gone over that position paper you sent me and it all looks good. Oh and also, I wish you would just let me put that campaign sign order in.”
“I got that already. Done,” Leslie tells him, reluctantly moving out of her campaign manager’s arms and putting her bag down.
“Alright, but hear me out-I really think you and I should spend the next hour just eating a meal and not at all discussing your campaign. I even made dinner,” he says, as Ben leads her towards the kitchen. The dining table is set with wine glasses and candles.
Leslie looks at him and smiles. “That sounds nice.”
“Babe. Come on. All we do is strategize and go over talk points, I don’t think one hour is going to…oh, wait. You said, that sounds nice.”
“I did. Let’s just have dinner. We can talk about your butt and the last episode of Friday Night Lights. I still have a lot of feelings about that. Well, about both of those things.”
“Okay, but you’ll have to do most of the talking.”
Leslie smiles and then notices a bright red smudge along Ben’s index finger. Wait. Is that blood?
“Are you bleeding? Why are you bleeding?”
“What?” He follows her gaze and brings his finger up, inspecting it closely.
“Why the hell are you bleeding? What happened? Are you okay? Is there even a first aid kit here?”
Leslie stops talking and watches as Ben brings his finger up even closer and furrows his brow. And then he…sniffs the blood. Ew. What the-
“Oh, this is just,” he stops talking to suck on his finger, causing Leslie to make a face. “Tomato sauce. It’s fine. I made calzone for dinner!”
And while she’s really glad that Ben didn’t hurt himself, she’s not sure she’d call calzone for dinner fine.
____
4. “PILLOW FIGHT!”
“PILLOW FIGHT!” Sonia yells out gleefully and then hits her unsuspecting four year-old brother in the face with her yellow smiley face pillow.
Before she actually makes contact, Ben starts to warn, “Hey, no, Sonia. No pillow fight,” but by the time he gets the sentence out, not only has she hit Wesley in the face, but his glasses have already flown across the room.
Almost immediately, the little boy is crying.
Sonia gets all wide-eyed and looks from Wesley, next to her on the floor of the triplet’s room to her father, over by the bookshelf and then her lip starts quivering and she’s crying as well. Loud, unhappy, guilty-sounding sobs, that pair up noisily with Wesley’s scared and surprised ones.
Ben rushes over, reaching his son first. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He gently feels Wesley’s face for any bumps but doesn’t find any.
“My g-glasses are gone,” the little boy manages to get out between gasps.
“Oh, it’s okay, they’re just over there. We’ll get them.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry. Wessie’s glasses,” Sonia sobs, trying to crawl into Ben’s lap. He wraps one arm around his son and one around his daughter, as he sits down on the floor next to them.
“It’s okay. It was an accident, but no pillow fights, honey.”
He figures he and Leslie will have to spend a little more time tomorrow talking to their daughter about how it’s dangerous to hit someone with glasses, but right now his first priority is calming everyone down before bed.
Despite the hugs and kisses, both kids are still crying a few seconds later when Leslie rushes in, Stephen in tow.
“Oh my god, what happened? What-”
“It’s okay, it’s under control,” Ben says from his spot on the floor, Wes and Sonia both with their arms still flung around Ben’s neck. “We just had a little situation and-”
“Why…is everyone crying?” Stephen asks all concerned, sniffling in response to the scene.
The little boy lets go of Leslie’s hand and takes a few steps into the room and then there’s the unmistakable crunching noise of glasses being stepped on. Ben watches helplessly as Stephen looks down, shocked at what he’s done, and also promptly bursts into tears.
____
5. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
Leslie isn’t usually isn’t self-conscious. And she always had a very specific look-blazers, pant suits, sometimes sexy underwear underneath, maybe cargo pants on the weekend if she was feeling sassy. But lately…lately none of that is an option because she is an airship. A literal blimp. A beached whale in stretchy pants and a rotating collection of empire-line blouses.
A cranky, seven-month pregnant beached whale that actually had to call to her husband for help when she realized she couldn’t get up from the couch earlier.
Thank god she can grasp onto the door handle to help hoist herself off of the toilet, she thinks with a shudder.
“Okay,” Ben says cheerfully, walking into the living room. “We can do the lemon chicken thing tonight or the whole wheat spaghetti with all the vegetables. What do the babies and you feel like for dinner?”
When she doesn’t answer, he frowns and moves closer. “Babe? What do you want for-”
“I want to be able to see my feet. I want to not look like a giant marshmallow with four toothpicks stuck into it. I want to wear cargo pants.”
“Leslie. Honey. You don’t look like a marshmallow.”
“You have to say that, you did this to me.”
“Well, that’s not true, but if you were a marshmallow, you’d be an adorable marshmallow, with three tiny marshmallows inside you,” he says, sitting down next to her.
“Ugh,” Leslie responds. “I know. I know. I’m just…” she pauses to rest her hand protectively on her giant, expanding-by-the-minute belly. “I’m happy to be housing the babies and sharing my space with them. I love them so much already. But some days, it’s just…a lot. I’m enormous and my boobs hurt and I’m just so…”
“Beautiful?” Ben suggests.
Leslie looks at him and rolls her eyes. She loves him more than anything, but sometimes lately she wants to punch him. Lightly, of course.
“Amazing? Wonderful? Cheerfully perky?”
She starts laughing at his last option and smiles when he takes her hand. “Sorry. I’m being annoying.”
“You’re really not. This is a lot. Really a lot. And you are amazing. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“How do you see me if it’s not like a giant marshmallow?” She asks, as Ben pulls her back so she’s resting against him on the couch.
“I see you as this incredible, awe-inspiring, and small-framed woman who is growing three babies inside her,” he slides his hand around her stomach, as their fingers entwine. “Who is so beautiful and so ridiculously sexy-”
Leslie snorts. “You’re just saying that because of all the doggy-style lately.”
“Well,” Ben gives her a look and raises his eyebrows until she laughs, and then he turns his head to give her a kiss.
“Babe. Seriously. Stop. I mean, no. Go ahead and vent to me if you need to, but I really love you and I know this is hard on you and I wish I could help with the physical stuff, but you are not a marshmallow.”
“Fuck,” Leslie says.
“What?” Ben asks, sitting up a bit and looking concerned.
“Now I want a marshmallow.”
____
6. The triplets' neighborhood newsletter
2021:
Leslie finds the perfect bench for some work in Ramsett Park, so she can sit outside and admire the warm and sunny day. Ben is at home with the kids and she’s got a couple of uninterrupted hours to go through some emails and start some reports.
She loves being back in Pawnee, even if it’s just for the summer. As her fellow Pawneeans walk by her bench, they kind of giggle and wave at her, and it just feels so good to be back. She loves DC but Indiana will always be home-people have been smiling and laughing at her all morning.
As she’s pulling the laptop out of her case, Leslie glances down and grins when she sees the little newsletter the triplets put together.
It’s four photocopied and stapled pages of Pawnee news stories. They wrote all the articles over the last few days and then spent last night after dinner walking through neighborhoods and depositing the newsletter on porches and doorsteps in town, while she and Ben had walked along and beamed at their wonderful, creative children.
The kids are starting second grade back in DC in a few weeks and they already have a publishing empire.
Leslie thumbs through the pages, rereading Wesley’s article on spiders, admiring Stephen’s drawings, and catching up again with BoBo and Margo T. Cuddlepants in Sonia’s Stuffed Animal Corner. But she pauses when she gets to the top of the third page and sees an article she doesn’t recognize.
And really, she can’t help but be a little extra impressed by her sneaky, sneaky children.
The Ghost in Our House - AN EXTRA SPECIAL SURPRISE REPORT by Sonia Knope-Wyatt (Hi mommy and daddy!)
The ghost in our house makes noises at night. Almost every night it moans and groans and maybe has a friend. Sometimes there are pounding noises too. Wesley gets scared (and Stephen mostly stays asleep) but I tell him it’s okay, the ghost is probably our friend and that we should leave out cookies for the ghosts (because the ghost has a friend) and he will eat them and maybe even play with us. Our house in Washington DC, capital of the United States, also has noisy ghosts. Except when mommy has to go on a trip to tell people what to do, then the ghosts are quiet and don’t moan.
If you have ghosts in your house, leave them some cookies and maybe get earphones so you can listen to Muppet Babies but no one should be scared of noisy ghosts. The End.
Crap on a-Leslie doesn’t even get to finish that thought before her phone starts buzzing. When she grabs it, she’s not very surprised to see that the (probably flustered) caller is Ben.
____
7. Ben and Roller Skates
He’s thirteen when his friend Jeff has a co-ed birthday party at the Partridge Skating Rink. When Ben unexpectedly gets an erection while standing near the railing, watching female classmates squeal and roll by to With or Without You blaring from the sound system, Ben skates quickly and awkwardly to a bench off the rink.
He sits wide-eyed and confused for the next fifteen minutes with his jacket covering his lap.
At twenty-one, Ben has a bit more control over it and casual dates at the Northfield Skating Rink on alternative music night serve as more of a warm-up for what he hopes will happen later that evening. And aside from that one unfortunate incident during a couple’s skate to Fade Into You on his date with Heather from Econ-320, he’s fairly in control of his secret wheel-kink.
It’s not until he’s thirty-seven, that he actually comes out and just tells someone, “um, women in skates turn me on. A lot.”
Ben is not sure why it sounds so weird to his ears, it’s not like he’s saying he’s into having sex in a gorilla costume or wants to pee on someone, but he’s always been slightly embarrassed by the skating thing. It’s makes him feel like his thirteen-year old self at the roller rink with an ill-timed boner in the middle of a party.
But, fuck it, he’s just…really into roller skates. Really, really into ladies in roller skates. Really, really, really wants to see one very specific lady in a pair of roller skates.
After his confession, Leslie kind of gives him a look that says she thinks he’s adorable and starts giggling. Almost immediately Ben starts laughing too (mostly in relief, but also because Leslie is ridiculously cute when cackling), covering her body with his as they kiss, kicking the covers off and down by their feet.
On his thirty-eighth birthday, he stands in the city council room and watches his amazing wife filibuster in purple roller skates and it’s like a crazy sex fantasy come to life. He doesn’t even think twice about admitting this to a fairly-confused Chris. It’s just the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
Until later, when he and Leslie get home.
____
8. Leslie is the big spoon when Ben doesn't feel good
“Nooooo. Stay away,” Ben says weakly, the covers all bundled up around him. “Actually, maybe I should go sleep on the-”
“What? No! Wait. Are you sick?” Leslie asks, starting to frown, as she quickly walks over to him and kneels down by Ben’s side of the bed. It’s only ten at night and she thought he was doing some work in the home office they share across the hall after they had put the kids to bed-not all weak and defenseless and bundled up in their room.
But no, Ben is on his side of the bed, with just his eyes, forehead, and messy bedhead sticking up from where the comforter is snuggled up around his face.
Ben hardly ever gets sick. There was the pre-wedding calzone food poisoning disaster and then some weird sinus infection a couple of years ago, but he’s usually super healthy. Except for right now. Now he looks almost exactly like Wesley did last week, all chilled, stuffed up, and miserable. And just when they finally got their four year-old son over his cold and back to his energetic self.
She touches Ben’s forehead-he’s hot. And not his usual sexy elf husband-hot, but actual fever-y hot.
“Babe. You’re sick.”
“I think am,” Ben nods, eyes still closed. “Wes probably gave me what he had.” When he replies, Leslie can hear the stuffiness in his nose.
“You probably have a fever too. Hold on, let me get the thermometer.”
“I’m not really in the mood for…oh, wait. You mean for my mouth.”
“Yeah.” She studies him, amused but concerned. “Was that a joke or are you really confused about whether this is me trying to jump you or me trying to take care of you?”
“Joke,” Ben confirms. He pulls the covers down briefly. “See? I’m smiling.”
“No you’re not.”
“Sorry. I can’t feel my face. But don’t go yet,” he says, reaching out to grab her hand.
“Okay.” Leslie sits down on the bed next to him.
“Um, other side. I don’t want to breathe on you. One of us has to stay normal to take care of the kids.”
She lets go of his (kind of clammy) fingers and moves down, crawling over Ben’s knees, then ends up on his other side. Leslie spoons around him, one arm up under her head, the other around his waist. She pushes her front against his comforter-covered back.
“Do you want some soup?”
“Mmmhrmmmrrrrrph.”
“Is that a yes? A no? I really don’t know what are you saying, babe. Yes? No? Yes? Maybe?”
“No. No. A no. That’s okay, I’m not hungry.”
“Do you want some tea?” She asks, bending her knees and molding them against the back of Ben’s bent legs.
“Maybe in a bit,” he responds. “Could you just stay here for a few minutes? You’re very warm.”
“Like an extra blanket?”
“Yes. Keep me warm with your adorable but abnormal body heat.”
“Okay.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes. “What’s that song you sang to Wesley last week?”
Leslie laughs. “The meatball song?” She watches the back of Ben’s head nod slowly. “Do you want me to sing you the meatball song, honey?”
“Yeah. It’s funny.”
She sits up a little, but keeps her legs against his, and runs her fingers through Ben’s hair as she sings, “On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed.” She has to stop herself from giggling, and then she continues. “It rolled off the table, and on to the floor, and then my poor meatball, rolled out of the door. It rolled-”
“Mommy? I can’t breathe out my nose and I feel icky.”
Leslie sits all the way up and sees Sonia, in her flannel pajamas and shivering, standing in the doorway to their room. She’s holding BoBo in one hand, dangling from a limp, stuffed ostrich foot.
She looks almost as bad as Ben.
“Oh, pumpkin,” Ben mumbles. “No. Come here.”
Sonia wanders over and Ben holds a hand out and gently rests it on his daughter’s forehead, while Leslie moves towards the edge of the bed. He frowns and puts his other hand on his own forehead. “Um. I can’t tell if she’s-”
“Yeah. I got it,” Leslie says, getting up and rushing over to Sonia.
She kneels down and pushes Ben’s hand up and on top of Sonia’s head while Leslie feels her daughter’s little forehead. Yep. She’s definitely fevery.
“You’re sick too, honey. Just like daddy.”
“Ohhhhhh,” Ben manages to get out. He moves back and holds the covers out, making room for Sonia on his side of the bed. She quickly climbs in with her stuffed animal friend and snuggles against her father. Ben bundles them back up under the flannel sheets and comforter.
“It’s okay, mommy is going to cuddle us and sing the meatball song.”
____
9. Pregnant Leslie/Ben sleepy cuddling
When Ben gets home, he’s surprised that Leslie’s not in the living room, binders and papers spread out in front of her, with whatever bizarre food combination she’s been craving all day on a plate next to her work.
Since he has a late night meeting with the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability on Wednesdays, it’s the one day they don’t carpool to City Hall. And since she’s three-and-a-half months pregnant, rather than doing work in the office after six, she’s been opting to go home at a normal time, change into something comfy, and whip up some weird snack.
But tonight…she’s not in her usual spot on the couch. Her car is in the driveway so he knows she’s here.
“Babe?” Ben calls out and listens for a response.
Nothing.
He’s not worried yet, but he is a little concerned. He walks through the house looking for his wife, but no Leslie.
Upstairs, he heads to their bedroom and…she’s lying on her side, blonde hair all tousled, pants and blazer off and on the floor, her blue and white polka dot blouse acting sort of as a pajama top. Leslie kind of snorts and snores and says something about Fonzie and chili cheese fries.
Ben grins and steps out of his shoes, shrugs of his jacket, loosens his tie, and crawls up the bed, settling beside her.
“Hey,” he says quietly by her ear, putting an arm around her and spooning against her back.
“Ben?”
“Yeah. You were expecting someone else?”
“Mmmmmm…maybe The Fonz?” She pauses. “That’s weird.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he teases, as she turns around and gets resettled facing him. Both of their heads are on her pillow, faces inches apart and he takes the opportunity to give her a kiss. She tastes a little like chocolate sauce and…potato chips.
“Why are you home so early?”
He laughs. “I’m not. It’s eight-thirty.”
“Really?” Now her eyes are open but she makes no move to sit up. “God. I came home and was going to change clothes but then I decided to lie down and close my eyes for a second before I found stretchier pants.”
Ben nods. “A mid-pants-swapping nap?”
“Exactly. I was just so tired. The babies are making me so tired.”
“That’s okay. Are you hungry? I can make us dinner.”
She makes a face like she’s considering his question very carefully. “Not quite yet. I had a snack when I first got home.”
“Do I want to know what?”
Leslie answers his question by shaking her head and grinning sleepily, as her foot travels up his calf. Then she frowns and narrows her eyes at him.
“What?”
“Okay Wyatt. Why are you still wearing pants? The bed is a pants-free zone, babe. You know that.”
“Sorry,” Ben says, sitting up to undo his belt and then unzip his pants. He pulls them down and kicks them off when the material is bunched by his ankles.
They cuddle pants-less for a few minutes, playing footsie, and lazily making out just a bit. He smiles when he pulls back from a kiss and sees that her eyes stay closed, her hand still on his head, where her fingers were playing with his hair. Ben softly trails his hand across Leslie’s hip, where the material from her shirt is bunched up.
He slides his palm down, pushing her shirt up as he goes, and places it on her bare and growing-rounder-by-the-day belly. He still can’t believe they have three babies in there.
Three little noses, six little eyes, so many adorable, ticklish toes.
“We should open a 50s diner and sell burgers and milk shakes,” Leslie kind of mumbles to him, her hand now resting against the pillow above his head. “Chili cheese fries with magical donuts and blue tricycle parts…”
“Wanna go back to sleep for a bit, honey?” Ben asks softly, trying not to laugh.
Leslie just snores softly in response.
He figures he’ll snuggle with her for a few more minutes and then go downstairs and make them some vegetable waffles for dinner.
____
10. Leslie catches Ben doing one of his 'sadness baths' when they're married
“Babe? Are you in-”
Leslie opens the cracked bathroom door the rest of the way and stops talking when she takes in the sight of her husband, eyes covered with a red washcloth and head resting against the back of the over-sized tub, a few remaining bubbles surrounding him in the water.
Ben hardly ever takes baths (well, unless he comes across her already in the tub, smiles, and quickly takes his clothes off to join her). But the few times she’s discovered him soaking solo since getting married, it’s usually when something is bothering him. Besides, it’s August-there’s absolutely no happy reason to get into a late-night bubble bath in summer.
Yeah, she thinks, something is upsetting him and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Leslie goes over the days events in her head looking for clues.
Nope. Nothing.
“What’s going on, honey?” she says quietly and then goes over and sits on the ledge.
Ben uncovers his eyes to look at her. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey. Did we break up?”
Ben looks confused for about half a second, but then he gives her a small smile. “No. Definitely not.”
“Good. What’s wrong then? And don’t say nothing because I know it’s something.”
“It’s silly.”
She gives him a look and reaches down into the water to take his hand, but then frowns. "This water isn’t even hot.“
“It’s summer.”
“Sure,” Leslie nods. When he doesn’t start talking, she prods him. “Ben?”
He takes a breath. “Okay. Fine. Today, when Stephen and I were going to go to the park.”
“Yeah?” She asks, when he stops talking after the one short sentence.
“I was about to tie his shoes before we left and he stopped me. He just pushed my hands away and said, No, daddy. Stop. I can do it.”
Leslie’s eyes widen and she smiles-Stephen is the last triplet to learn how to tie his shoes. She gives Ben a proud, excited smile. “He can tie his shoes now?”
“No,” Ben shakes his head. “Oh, no, he did it completely wrong. The laces were all knotted and not tightened right. And then I had to distract him by telling him the cupcake fairy was in the other room, so I could retie them when he wasn’t looking, but he…he didn’t want my help. He actually pushed my hands away.”
“Oh. Well-”
“No, daddy. Stop. I can do it,” Ben repeats sadly. “And then next week…”
“Yeah. That’s going to be tough,” she agrees. Next week, the triplets start kindergarten.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but…maybe you were right. Maybe we should have had more. So there’d be more little baby tummies and first steps and another naked baby running away and almost bumping into walls all over again.”
“Ben…” She starts and then stops.
Well, of course she was right. And it’s normally fun to tease Ben about making more babies (and it’s not like she wouldn’t maybe be up for it), but she is 45. And she does have a demanding, full-time government job. And if she really thinks about it seriously, Leslie figures they are probably done making their family. Their wonderful, amazing, incredible family.
Besides, she feels like Ben needs her to be the level-headed and sensible one here.
“I used to kiss and tickle Stephen’s little feet and he would giggle and look up at me with that tiny, adorable face like I was his whole world…they all would. And now, Stephen pushes my hands away like I am totally unnecessary. Next week it’s kindergarten and before we know it, they’ll be leaving for college and moving away.”
“I think there’s a few steps in between those two events.”
Her husband shrugs.
“It’s not like they’ll be heading off next Monday with little briefcases and…oh my god, that would be so cute. We have to get them little briefcases for their first day of kindergarten!”
That earns her a small laugh from Ben. “Little leather ones with fancy clasps?”
“Exactly. Like they’re high-powered executives.”
She smiles at him and lets go of his hand before holding hers up out of the water. Ben reaches up and lightly slaps his palm against it.
“That would be cute,” he agrees, nodding his head.
“It would be super fucking cute. But, they’re still our babies. Even if they start to want to do things on their own. They can’t. They’re five and they have no jobs and no money and they totally still need us.”
“I know,” he tells her. “I know. And I’m not sure why today made me so sad. It just did. But…he really has no clue how to tie his shoes yet. Maybe if I try to show him again tomorrow, so he can actually do it himself. We could work on it after dinner and…” He stops talking and looks at her where she’s now standing up beside the tub. “What are you doing?”
After shrugging her unbuttoned shirt off, Leslie unhooks her bra and tosses it to the floor and then starts undoing her pants. “Getting in the tub with you. I definitely still need you. And I always will.”
Ben smiles at her. Finally. A real smile.
“And I definitely still need you and always will. But I’ll just get out and we can go in the bedroom. This was actually kind of dumb, it’s like a million degrees out.”
Timeline: All over the place!
Summary: 1. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, 2. Can I Kiss You?" (1800s version), 3. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”, 4. “PILLOW FIGHT!”, 5. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”, 6. The Triplets' neighborhood newsletter, 7. Ben and Roller Skates, 8. Leslie is the big spoon when Ben doesn't feel good, 9. Pregnant Leslie/Ben sleepy cuddling, 10. Leslie catches Ben doing one of his 'sadness baths' when they're married
1. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Leslie says, sitting on the bed and watching Ben pack. Plaid shirts and skinny ties. All the boxer briefs that make his tight little buns look so delectable.
“Leslie, you’re not losing…seriously?” He gives her a puzzled look and pauses packing his small travel bag. “This is really an issue for you?”
“Well, where does this end, Ben? I mean, sure today it’s just a Healthy Cities Midwest conference for municipal managers and administrators, but tomorrow? Maybe you’ll start hiding vegetables in my food or you’ll leave me for a hot yoga instructor.” Leslie watches as his eyes go wide. “What?”
“Oh, um, nothing. Nothing. Hey, do I need a new travel bag? Maybe I should look for a new-”
“What?” She repeats in a more demanding tone. “Why are you all weird? Are you leaving me for a hot yoga instructor?”
“No,” he scoffs, seeming to settle down a bit. “No, of course not. Why would I do that? I just married you.”
“We’ve been married for almost a year,” Leslie corrects, making a mental note to check on the status of her amazing, dopey-face inducing anniversary gift to him-it should be ready in a few days.
Ben grins, forgoes his packing project, and leans in for a kiss. As his lips brush against hers, Leslie grabs his hand and pulls him forward, so that he ends up settling on top of her. They keep kissing regardless of the new position, his other hand now running along her hip, fingers pressing into her.
When he does eventually break away and roll off of her, they lie on their sides, just looking at each other.
“You know,” Ben starts, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face and push it behind her ear.
“You can always just pack a bag and come with me. Two nights in sunny, tropical Des Moines, I mean how is that not amazing-sounding?”
“Definitely tempting,” Leslie responds to his sarcasm, still smiling from all the rolling around and kissing.
“But I just started back at the Parks department. I can’t really take time off first thing.”
Ben shrugs, making a face. “You’re loss, babe. It’ll be nothing but wet snow, corn, and Minnesota jokes.”
She laughs and reaches out to take his hand again. “Besides, Ann is coming over tomorrow night and we’re not at all going to talk about that thing that she is doing soon. We’re going to watch a movie and we can pause it every ten minutes so she can pee.”
“That sounds like a good time,“ Ben agrees, as he gets up to resume his packing.
She holds onto him until the last moment, just letting go when she can no longer stretch her fingers to keep the contact.
“Right. And again, we will absolutely not be discussing her completely wrong decision to…do that thing. And if Chris wants her back early, he’ll just have to come here and try to take her. But I’ll fight him.”
“I know you will,” Ben tells her. “I’m sure Chris knows that too.”
“Oh, you better not come home from this conference with any fancy new ideas like whipped cream is bad for you or we should eat more chard. Because I will divorce you.”
“Wow. You have really strong opinions about everything tonight.”
“I’m just very passionate about whipped cream and Ann.”
Ben stops zipping up his bag and makes a face, eyebrow raised.
“Okay, that came out wrong. You know what I meant. And also about the hating chard.”
“I know,” Ben agrees. “Plus, chard is disgusting, we’re in agreement there.”
She nods. “But even so, I wouldn’t divorce you if suddenly one day you went crazy and wanted to eat chard. As long as you didn’t want me to eat it.”
“Seems fair. But babe, I mean, you do seem to like it a lot when I have a chard-on.”
____
2. "Can I Kiss You?" (1800s version)
Notes: Hi! So, this is just a drabble, but I think it’s going to turn into a bigger thing. I’ve honestly wanted to do more with Pawnee’s ridiculous old-timey laws since I first wrote that one kinkmeme fic last summer. So, this is maybe a start to that?
And yeah, the corn thing is a real 1800s euphemism. ;-)
* * *
“Can I kiss you?”
Leslie narrows her eyes at Mr. Wyatt’s question and says, “Well, we’re going to be married tomorrow, so yes, I think you can probably kiss me.”
She moves closer to the bars of her jail cell and Leslie finds that she has just enough room to push her lips far enough out for the narrow-framed man to lightly brush his lips to hers. And it’s good.
It’s not her first kiss by any means and it’s certainly not under the best of circumstances, but it’s definitely a really good kiss. In fact, Mr. Wyatt…Ben, seems nice.
For a jerk.
“You still think I’m a jerk, right?”
“Well-”
“I’m saving your life,” he argues, “I think that makes me not a jerk. Plus, I’ve always wanted a felon for a wife.”
Leslie sighs at his joke (she hopes it’s a joke), stepping back a few inches from her cell’s bars. “It’s an unfair and unjust law, but I did break it.”
Just a few days ago, while out walking one of Pawnee’s few green spaces, she had rolled up her sleeves, exposing her elbows-a Class A felony for an unmarried woman in 1887. She had found herself facing the penalty of being set adrift on Lake Michigan as soon as Sheriff Trumple could arrange transport north on a stagecoach.
But then Mr. Wyatt had stepped in and claimed to be her secret fiancé, saving her from going down in history as a frozen whore.
And aside from a few arguments in the town square and at his office at Pawnee’s City Hall, he’s basically a stranger but Leslie figures marrying Ben is better than becoming a human lady-popsicle.
Besides, he is pretty cute and he has an occupation, which is more than she can say for some of her other past suitors.
“Do you need anything?” Ben asks, looking anxiously around the jail.
“No. I’m fine. It’s actually not too bad for a cell. Plus my best friend Ann is stopping by later to talk about the wedding tomorrow and we can braid each other’s hair if I sit really close to the bars.”
“Well, okay,” Ben starts walking backwards towards the door. “I’m just going to, um…you know, go. Jails make me really nervous.”
“I know,” Leslie agrees, smiling. Every time one of the deputies walks by Ben practically jumps ten feet in the air.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Knope. Um, Leslie,” he says with a smile.
Leslie smiles back and gives Ben a little wave.
She then sits on her cot as she waits for Ann, beautiful nurse and her best friend in the whole world. Besides the hair braiding, she’s also going to have to ask Ann what the hell happens on the wedding night, because honestly she has no idea what having one’s corn ground could possibly mean.
And also vegetables are involved? Ugh.
____
3. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”
So, uh, this is that.
When he greets her at the door, Leslie just just kind of melts into Ben’s arms. And although she’d never admit this to anyone (not even him), working forty plus hours per week at the Parks department, in addition to the twenty to thirty hours she’s devoting to her campaign (not to mention her volunteer time for Wheels for Meals on Wheels), is making her, well, a little tired. Worn out. Okay, fine, flat-out exhausted.
Leslie can’t even remember how many days in a row she’s worn this red sweater.
But of course, she’s still excellent at multitasking. She’s just going to sleep for a month once the campaign is over.
“So, I’ve gone over that position paper you sent me and it all looks good. Oh and also, I wish you would just let me put that campaign sign order in.”
“I got that already. Done,” Leslie tells him, reluctantly moving out of her campaign manager’s arms and putting her bag down.
“Alright, but hear me out-I really think you and I should spend the next hour just eating a meal and not at all discussing your campaign. I even made dinner,” he says, as Ben leads her towards the kitchen. The dining table is set with wine glasses and candles.
Leslie looks at him and smiles. “That sounds nice.”
“Babe. Come on. All we do is strategize and go over talk points, I don’t think one hour is going to…oh, wait. You said, that sounds nice.”
“I did. Let’s just have dinner. We can talk about your butt and the last episode of Friday Night Lights. I still have a lot of feelings about that. Well, about both of those things.”
“Okay, but you’ll have to do most of the talking.”
Leslie smiles and then notices a bright red smudge along Ben’s index finger. Wait. Is that blood?
“Are you bleeding? Why are you bleeding?”
“What?” He follows her gaze and brings his finger up, inspecting it closely.
“Why the hell are you bleeding? What happened? Are you okay? Is there even a first aid kit here?”
Leslie stops talking and watches as Ben brings his finger up even closer and furrows his brow. And then he…sniffs the blood. Ew. What the-
“Oh, this is just,” he stops talking to suck on his finger, causing Leslie to make a face. “Tomato sauce. It’s fine. I made calzone for dinner!”
And while she’s really glad that Ben didn’t hurt himself, she’s not sure she’d call calzone for dinner fine.
____
4. “PILLOW FIGHT!”
“PILLOW FIGHT!” Sonia yells out gleefully and then hits her unsuspecting four year-old brother in the face with her yellow smiley face pillow.
Before she actually makes contact, Ben starts to warn, “Hey, no, Sonia. No pillow fight,” but by the time he gets the sentence out, not only has she hit Wesley in the face, but his glasses have already flown across the room.
Almost immediately, the little boy is crying.
Sonia gets all wide-eyed and looks from Wesley, next to her on the floor of the triplet’s room to her father, over by the bookshelf and then her lip starts quivering and she’s crying as well. Loud, unhappy, guilty-sounding sobs, that pair up noisily with Wesley’s scared and surprised ones.
Ben rushes over, reaching his son first. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He gently feels Wesley’s face for any bumps but doesn’t find any.
“My g-glasses are gone,” the little boy manages to get out between gasps.
“Oh, it’s okay, they’re just over there. We’ll get them.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry. Wessie’s glasses,” Sonia sobs, trying to crawl into Ben’s lap. He wraps one arm around his son and one around his daughter, as he sits down on the floor next to them.
“It’s okay. It was an accident, but no pillow fights, honey.”
He figures he and Leslie will have to spend a little more time tomorrow talking to their daughter about how it’s dangerous to hit someone with glasses, but right now his first priority is calming everyone down before bed.
Despite the hugs and kisses, both kids are still crying a few seconds later when Leslie rushes in, Stephen in tow.
“Oh my god, what happened? What-”
“It’s okay, it’s under control,” Ben says from his spot on the floor, Wes and Sonia both with their arms still flung around Ben’s neck. “We just had a little situation and-”
“Why…is everyone crying?” Stephen asks all concerned, sniffling in response to the scene.
The little boy lets go of Leslie’s hand and takes a few steps into the room and then there’s the unmistakable crunching noise of glasses being stepped on. Ben watches helplessly as Stephen looks down, shocked at what he’s done, and also promptly bursts into tears.
____
5. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
Leslie isn’t usually isn’t self-conscious. And she always had a very specific look-blazers, pant suits, sometimes sexy underwear underneath, maybe cargo pants on the weekend if she was feeling sassy. But lately…lately none of that is an option because she is an airship. A literal blimp. A beached whale in stretchy pants and a rotating collection of empire-line blouses.
A cranky, seven-month pregnant beached whale that actually had to call to her husband for help when she realized she couldn’t get up from the couch earlier.
Thank god she can grasp onto the door handle to help hoist herself off of the toilet, she thinks with a shudder.
“Okay,” Ben says cheerfully, walking into the living room. “We can do the lemon chicken thing tonight or the whole wheat spaghetti with all the vegetables. What do the babies and you feel like for dinner?”
When she doesn’t answer, he frowns and moves closer. “Babe? What do you want for-”
“I want to be able to see my feet. I want to not look like a giant marshmallow with four toothpicks stuck into it. I want to wear cargo pants.”
“Leslie. Honey. You don’t look like a marshmallow.”
“You have to say that, you did this to me.”
“Well, that’s not true, but if you were a marshmallow, you’d be an adorable marshmallow, with three tiny marshmallows inside you,” he says, sitting down next to her.
“Ugh,” Leslie responds. “I know. I know. I’m just…” she pauses to rest her hand protectively on her giant, expanding-by-the-minute belly. “I’m happy to be housing the babies and sharing my space with them. I love them so much already. But some days, it’s just…a lot. I’m enormous and my boobs hurt and I’m just so…”
“Beautiful?” Ben suggests.
Leslie looks at him and rolls her eyes. She loves him more than anything, but sometimes lately she wants to punch him. Lightly, of course.
“Amazing? Wonderful? Cheerfully perky?”
She starts laughing at his last option and smiles when he takes her hand. “Sorry. I’m being annoying.”
“You’re really not. This is a lot. Really a lot. And you are amazing. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“How do you see me if it’s not like a giant marshmallow?” She asks, as Ben pulls her back so she’s resting against him on the couch.
“I see you as this incredible, awe-inspiring, and small-framed woman who is growing three babies inside her,” he slides his hand around her stomach, as their fingers entwine. “Who is so beautiful and so ridiculously sexy-”
Leslie snorts. “You’re just saying that because of all the doggy-style lately.”
“Well,” Ben gives her a look and raises his eyebrows until she laughs, and then he turns his head to give her a kiss.
“Babe. Seriously. Stop. I mean, no. Go ahead and vent to me if you need to, but I really love you and I know this is hard on you and I wish I could help with the physical stuff, but you are not a marshmallow.”
“Fuck,” Leslie says.
“What?” Ben asks, sitting up a bit and looking concerned.
“Now I want a marshmallow.”
____
6. The triplets' neighborhood newsletter
2021:
Leslie finds the perfect bench for some work in Ramsett Park, so she can sit outside and admire the warm and sunny day. Ben is at home with the kids and she’s got a couple of uninterrupted hours to go through some emails and start some reports.
She loves being back in Pawnee, even if it’s just for the summer. As her fellow Pawneeans walk by her bench, they kind of giggle and wave at her, and it just feels so good to be back. She loves DC but Indiana will always be home-people have been smiling and laughing at her all morning.
As she’s pulling the laptop out of her case, Leslie glances down and grins when she sees the little newsletter the triplets put together.
It’s four photocopied and stapled pages of Pawnee news stories. They wrote all the articles over the last few days and then spent last night after dinner walking through neighborhoods and depositing the newsletter on porches and doorsteps in town, while she and Ben had walked along and beamed at their wonderful, creative children.
The kids are starting second grade back in DC in a few weeks and they already have a publishing empire.
Leslie thumbs through the pages, rereading Wesley’s article on spiders, admiring Stephen’s drawings, and catching up again with BoBo and Margo T. Cuddlepants in Sonia’s Stuffed Animal Corner. But she pauses when she gets to the top of the third page and sees an article she doesn’t recognize.
And really, she can’t help but be a little extra impressed by her sneaky, sneaky children.
The Ghost in Our House - AN EXTRA SPECIAL SURPRISE REPORT by Sonia Knope-Wyatt (Hi mommy and daddy!)
The ghost in our house makes noises at night. Almost every night it moans and groans and maybe has a friend. Sometimes there are pounding noises too. Wesley gets scared (and Stephen mostly stays asleep) but I tell him it’s okay, the ghost is probably our friend and that we should leave out cookies for the ghosts (because the ghost has a friend) and he will eat them and maybe even play with us. Our house in Washington DC, capital of the United States, also has noisy ghosts. Except when mommy has to go on a trip to tell people what to do, then the ghosts are quiet and don’t moan.
If you have ghosts in your house, leave them some cookies and maybe get earphones so you can listen to Muppet Babies but no one should be scared of noisy ghosts. The End.
Crap on a-Leslie doesn’t even get to finish that thought before her phone starts buzzing. When she grabs it, she’s not very surprised to see that the (probably flustered) caller is Ben.
____
7. Ben and Roller Skates
He’s thirteen when his friend Jeff has a co-ed birthday party at the Partridge Skating Rink. When Ben unexpectedly gets an erection while standing near the railing, watching female classmates squeal and roll by to With or Without You blaring from the sound system, Ben skates quickly and awkwardly to a bench off the rink.
He sits wide-eyed and confused for the next fifteen minutes with his jacket covering his lap.
At twenty-one, Ben has a bit more control over it and casual dates at the Northfield Skating Rink on alternative music night serve as more of a warm-up for what he hopes will happen later that evening. And aside from that one unfortunate incident during a couple’s skate to Fade Into You on his date with Heather from Econ-320, he’s fairly in control of his secret wheel-kink.
It’s not until he’s thirty-seven, that he actually comes out and just tells someone, “um, women in skates turn me on. A lot.”
Ben is not sure why it sounds so weird to his ears, it’s not like he’s saying he’s into having sex in a gorilla costume or wants to pee on someone, but he’s always been slightly embarrassed by the skating thing. It’s makes him feel like his thirteen-year old self at the roller rink with an ill-timed boner in the middle of a party.
But, fuck it, he’s just…really into roller skates. Really, really into ladies in roller skates. Really, really, really wants to see one very specific lady in a pair of roller skates.
After his confession, Leslie kind of gives him a look that says she thinks he’s adorable and starts giggling. Almost immediately Ben starts laughing too (mostly in relief, but also because Leslie is ridiculously cute when cackling), covering her body with his as they kiss, kicking the covers off and down by their feet.
On his thirty-eighth birthday, he stands in the city council room and watches his amazing wife filibuster in purple roller skates and it’s like a crazy sex fantasy come to life. He doesn’t even think twice about admitting this to a fairly-confused Chris. It’s just the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
Until later, when he and Leslie get home.
____
8. Leslie is the big spoon when Ben doesn't feel good
“Nooooo. Stay away,” Ben says weakly, the covers all bundled up around him. “Actually, maybe I should go sleep on the-”
“What? No! Wait. Are you sick?” Leslie asks, starting to frown, as she quickly walks over to him and kneels down by Ben’s side of the bed. It’s only ten at night and she thought he was doing some work in the home office they share across the hall after they had put the kids to bed-not all weak and defenseless and bundled up in their room.
But no, Ben is on his side of the bed, with just his eyes, forehead, and messy bedhead sticking up from where the comforter is snuggled up around his face.
Ben hardly ever gets sick. There was the pre-wedding calzone food poisoning disaster and then some weird sinus infection a couple of years ago, but he’s usually super healthy. Except for right now. Now he looks almost exactly like Wesley did last week, all chilled, stuffed up, and miserable. And just when they finally got their four year-old son over his cold and back to his energetic self.
She touches Ben’s forehead-he’s hot. And not his usual sexy elf husband-hot, but actual fever-y hot.
“Babe. You’re sick.”
“I think am,” Ben nods, eyes still closed. “Wes probably gave me what he had.” When he replies, Leslie can hear the stuffiness in his nose.
“You probably have a fever too. Hold on, let me get the thermometer.”
“I’m not really in the mood for…oh, wait. You mean for my mouth.”
“Yeah.” She studies him, amused but concerned. “Was that a joke or are you really confused about whether this is me trying to jump you or me trying to take care of you?”
“Joke,” Ben confirms. He pulls the covers down briefly. “See? I’m smiling.”
“No you’re not.”
“Sorry. I can’t feel my face. But don’t go yet,” he says, reaching out to grab her hand.
“Okay.” Leslie sits down on the bed next to him.
“Um, other side. I don’t want to breathe on you. One of us has to stay normal to take care of the kids.”
She lets go of his (kind of clammy) fingers and moves down, crawling over Ben’s knees, then ends up on his other side. Leslie spoons around him, one arm up under her head, the other around his waist. She pushes her front against his comforter-covered back.
“Do you want some soup?”
“Mmmhrmmmrrrrrph.”
“Is that a yes? A no? I really don’t know what are you saying, babe. Yes? No? Yes? Maybe?”
“No. No. A no. That’s okay, I’m not hungry.”
“Do you want some tea?” She asks, bending her knees and molding them against the back of Ben’s bent legs.
“Maybe in a bit,” he responds. “Could you just stay here for a few minutes? You’re very warm.”
“Like an extra blanket?”
“Yes. Keep me warm with your adorable but abnormal body heat.”
“Okay.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes. “What’s that song you sang to Wesley last week?”
Leslie laughs. “The meatball song?” She watches the back of Ben’s head nod slowly. “Do you want me to sing you the meatball song, honey?”
“Yeah. It’s funny.”
She sits up a little, but keeps her legs against his, and runs her fingers through Ben’s hair as she sings, “On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed.” She has to stop herself from giggling, and then she continues. “It rolled off the table, and on to the floor, and then my poor meatball, rolled out of the door. It rolled-”
“Mommy? I can’t breathe out my nose and I feel icky.”
Leslie sits all the way up and sees Sonia, in her flannel pajamas and shivering, standing in the doorway to their room. She’s holding BoBo in one hand, dangling from a limp, stuffed ostrich foot.
She looks almost as bad as Ben.
“Oh, pumpkin,” Ben mumbles. “No. Come here.”
Sonia wanders over and Ben holds a hand out and gently rests it on his daughter’s forehead, while Leslie moves towards the edge of the bed. He frowns and puts his other hand on his own forehead. “Um. I can’t tell if she’s-”
“Yeah. I got it,” Leslie says, getting up and rushing over to Sonia.
She kneels down and pushes Ben’s hand up and on top of Sonia’s head while Leslie feels her daughter’s little forehead. Yep. She’s definitely fevery.
“You’re sick too, honey. Just like daddy.”
“Ohhhhhh,” Ben manages to get out. He moves back and holds the covers out, making room for Sonia on his side of the bed. She quickly climbs in with her stuffed animal friend and snuggles against her father. Ben bundles them back up under the flannel sheets and comforter.
“It’s okay, mommy is going to cuddle us and sing the meatball song.”
____
9. Pregnant Leslie/Ben sleepy cuddling
When Ben gets home, he’s surprised that Leslie’s not in the living room, binders and papers spread out in front of her, with whatever bizarre food combination she’s been craving all day on a plate next to her work.
Since he has a late night meeting with the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability on Wednesdays, it’s the one day they don’t carpool to City Hall. And since she’s three-and-a-half months pregnant, rather than doing work in the office after six, she’s been opting to go home at a normal time, change into something comfy, and whip up some weird snack.
But tonight…she’s not in her usual spot on the couch. Her car is in the driveway so he knows she’s here.
“Babe?” Ben calls out and listens for a response.
Nothing.
He’s not worried yet, but he is a little concerned. He walks through the house looking for his wife, but no Leslie.
Upstairs, he heads to their bedroom and…she’s lying on her side, blonde hair all tousled, pants and blazer off and on the floor, her blue and white polka dot blouse acting sort of as a pajama top. Leslie kind of snorts and snores and says something about Fonzie and chili cheese fries.
Ben grins and steps out of his shoes, shrugs of his jacket, loosens his tie, and crawls up the bed, settling beside her.
“Hey,” he says quietly by her ear, putting an arm around her and spooning against her back.
“Ben?”
“Yeah. You were expecting someone else?”
“Mmmmmm…maybe The Fonz?” She pauses. “That’s weird.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he teases, as she turns around and gets resettled facing him. Both of their heads are on her pillow, faces inches apart and he takes the opportunity to give her a kiss. She tastes a little like chocolate sauce and…potato chips.
“Why are you home so early?”
He laughs. “I’m not. It’s eight-thirty.”
“Really?” Now her eyes are open but she makes no move to sit up. “God. I came home and was going to change clothes but then I decided to lie down and close my eyes for a second before I found stretchier pants.”
Ben nods. “A mid-pants-swapping nap?”
“Exactly. I was just so tired. The babies are making me so tired.”
“That’s okay. Are you hungry? I can make us dinner.”
She makes a face like she’s considering his question very carefully. “Not quite yet. I had a snack when I first got home.”
“Do I want to know what?”
Leslie answers his question by shaking her head and grinning sleepily, as her foot travels up his calf. Then she frowns and narrows her eyes at him.
“What?”
“Okay Wyatt. Why are you still wearing pants? The bed is a pants-free zone, babe. You know that.”
“Sorry,” Ben says, sitting up to undo his belt and then unzip his pants. He pulls them down and kicks them off when the material is bunched by his ankles.
They cuddle pants-less for a few minutes, playing footsie, and lazily making out just a bit. He smiles when he pulls back from a kiss and sees that her eyes stay closed, her hand still on his head, where her fingers were playing with his hair. Ben softly trails his hand across Leslie’s hip, where the material from her shirt is bunched up.
He slides his palm down, pushing her shirt up as he goes, and places it on her bare and growing-rounder-by-the-day belly. He still can’t believe they have three babies in there.
Three little noses, six little eyes, so many adorable, ticklish toes.
“We should open a 50s diner and sell burgers and milk shakes,” Leslie kind of mumbles to him, her hand now resting against the pillow above his head. “Chili cheese fries with magical donuts and blue tricycle parts…”
“Wanna go back to sleep for a bit, honey?” Ben asks softly, trying not to laugh.
Leslie just snores softly in response.
He figures he’ll snuggle with her for a few more minutes and then go downstairs and make them some vegetable waffles for dinner.
____
10. Leslie catches Ben doing one of his 'sadness baths' when they're married
“Babe? Are you in-”
Leslie opens the cracked bathroom door the rest of the way and stops talking when she takes in the sight of her husband, eyes covered with a red washcloth and head resting against the back of the over-sized tub, a few remaining bubbles surrounding him in the water.
Ben hardly ever takes baths (well, unless he comes across her already in the tub, smiles, and quickly takes his clothes off to join her). But the few times she’s discovered him soaking solo since getting married, it’s usually when something is bothering him. Besides, it’s August-there’s absolutely no happy reason to get into a late-night bubble bath in summer.
Yeah, she thinks, something is upsetting him and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Leslie goes over the days events in her head looking for clues.
Nope. Nothing.
“What’s going on, honey?” she says quietly and then goes over and sits on the ledge.
Ben uncovers his eyes to look at her. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey. Did we break up?”
Ben looks confused for about half a second, but then he gives her a small smile. “No. Definitely not.”
“Good. What’s wrong then? And don’t say nothing because I know it’s something.”
“It’s silly.”
She gives him a look and reaches down into the water to take his hand, but then frowns. "This water isn’t even hot.“
“It’s summer.”
“Sure,” Leslie nods. When he doesn’t start talking, she prods him. “Ben?”
He takes a breath. “Okay. Fine. Today, when Stephen and I were going to go to the park.”
“Yeah?” She asks, when he stops talking after the one short sentence.
“I was about to tie his shoes before we left and he stopped me. He just pushed my hands away and said, No, daddy. Stop. I can do it.”
Leslie’s eyes widen and she smiles-Stephen is the last triplet to learn how to tie his shoes. She gives Ben a proud, excited smile. “He can tie his shoes now?”
“No,” Ben shakes his head. “Oh, no, he did it completely wrong. The laces were all knotted and not tightened right. And then I had to distract him by telling him the cupcake fairy was in the other room, so I could retie them when he wasn’t looking, but he…he didn’t want my help. He actually pushed my hands away.”
“Oh. Well-”
“No, daddy. Stop. I can do it,” Ben repeats sadly. “And then next week…”
“Yeah. That’s going to be tough,” she agrees. Next week, the triplets start kindergarten.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but…maybe you were right. Maybe we should have had more. So there’d be more little baby tummies and first steps and another naked baby running away and almost bumping into walls all over again.”
“Ben…” She starts and then stops.
Well, of course she was right. And it’s normally fun to tease Ben about making more babies (and it’s not like she wouldn’t maybe be up for it), but she is 45. And she does have a demanding, full-time government job. And if she really thinks about it seriously, Leslie figures they are probably done making their family. Their wonderful, amazing, incredible family.
Besides, she feels like Ben needs her to be the level-headed and sensible one here.
“I used to kiss and tickle Stephen’s little feet and he would giggle and look up at me with that tiny, adorable face like I was his whole world…they all would. And now, Stephen pushes my hands away like I am totally unnecessary. Next week it’s kindergarten and before we know it, they’ll be leaving for college and moving away.”
“I think there’s a few steps in between those two events.”
Her husband shrugs.
“It’s not like they’ll be heading off next Monday with little briefcases and…oh my god, that would be so cute. We have to get them little briefcases for their first day of kindergarten!”
That earns her a small laugh from Ben. “Little leather ones with fancy clasps?”
“Exactly. Like they’re high-powered executives.”
She smiles at him and lets go of his hand before holding hers up out of the water. Ben reaches up and lightly slaps his palm against it.
“That would be cute,” he agrees, nodding his head.
“It would be super fucking cute. But, they’re still our babies. Even if they start to want to do things on their own. They can’t. They’re five and they have no jobs and no money and they totally still need us.”
“I know,” he tells her. “I know. And I’m not sure why today made me so sad. It just did. But…he really has no clue how to tie his shoes yet. Maybe if I try to show him again tomorrow, so he can actually do it himself. We could work on it after dinner and…” He stops talking and looks at her where she’s now standing up beside the tub. “What are you doing?”
After shrugging her unbuttoned shirt off, Leslie unhooks her bra and tosses it to the floor and then starts undoing her pants. “Getting in the tub with you. I definitely still need you. And I always will.”
Ben smiles at her. Finally. A real smile.
“And I definitely still need you and always will. But I’ll just get out and we can go in the bedroom. This was actually kind of dumb, it’s like a million degrees out.”