fic: start a war (1/6), r
title: Start A War (1/6)
author: shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: R for sexual scenes
words: ~5000
spoilers: Loosely based on the Mike Schur interview about season 4, but those were vague tidbits to begin with
notes: I plan on this being about 6 chapters, though that may change. Thanks so much to swayinisdancin for helping me write this as i go along, and to cypanache for giving it a read-over. This one's taking me a lot to get through, so feedback is greatly appreciated!
She doesn't even tell him about being approached for office that night. It’s the first of what’s probably many missteps to come.
When Barnes and his team leave Leslie and Ben detects through the window that something's up, she knows she has no time to think about this on her own. He's already on his way over because she's rooted to the spot, smiling to try to convince herself that everything could possibly work out.
But she said there was no scandal. It feels like she already made the decision, though she doesn't know if it’s the right one yet.
So when he makes his way over to the table, she just looks up at him with the same smile. And he looks unsure, is about to open his mouth in inquiry, but she just stands on shaky legs and takes his hand. She leads him out to the parking lot, away from the sound of Tammy shrieking and Mouse Rat's familiar chords, and she ends up driving him to her house. It’s been weirdly quiet, Ben only stopping to break the silence outside her car.
“Won’t people notice my car’s still here?”
“We’ll come back,” she says, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, because that’s one more thing she doesn’t want to deal with now. She’s dog tired of secret keeping, feels exhausted by it even though it’s only been a few weeks. And to add another level to the game, another set of eyes to hide from, another group of places they can’t be seen together at... she’s not going to deal with it tonight.
So when she pulls him out of the car and kisses him on her porch, for all of Pawnee to see (if all of Pawnee wasn’t busy mourning the loss of a miniature horse), she feels the tiniest sense of relief somewhere. It’s fleeting but it’s there, the fact that she’s holding him to her in the open, letting this happen unabashedly for once. But she knows she has to move it inside, knows it can’t last.
He tries to ask her what’s wrong, insists that he can tell something’s bothering her, but she quiets him with her lips. And everything’s a little frantic, a little hazy, because she’s shoving his clothing off without turning on a light and moving him where she wants him to go and when she’s left collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, he sighs.
“You’re not telling me something,” he says simply, reaching a hand out to touch her. She squeezes her eyes shut, gives it a moment before she moves out of his grasp.
“I, uh, have some work to do. On the observatory.” She tries to smile at him as she hoists herself out of bed, slipping his red plaid over her shoulders and closing the door behind her. And it isn’t the first time she’s left him in bed, with her tendency to fall asleep later and wake up earlier than him. But she feels guilty, given how weird this night must be for him. And it sucks, it all sucks, but if she lays awake thinking about this with him laying next to her, she’ll be going in circles for hours.
Which is what she ends up doing anyway, scribbling on notepads in her dimly-lit living room, lines crossing over the page between words, like the threads of her life can be brought together by a simple stroke of her multi-colored pen. But it’s not that easy. And when she sees it on paper, it’s black and white - Ben’s only been in her life for a year, but she’s wanted to run for office since she was a little girl.
There’s a gray area, but it terrifies and tires her. This is a bigger risk and there’s more to lose, and the only way she could have both things in her life sounds just as unappealing as either of the other paths.
And she doesn’t want to believe it, can’t bring herself to yet, scribbles furiously over it until the indent from the pen reaches back for pages more. And she falls asleep with it crumpled in her fist, never quite reaching the garbage can.
She’s probably going to have to break up with Ben.
---
Though she’s woken up in the morning by a gentle tug at her hand, she sits up with a start and immediately throws the ball of paper behind the couch. Ben’s gaze follows it for a moment but lets it go.
“Are you going to talk to me now, or am I going to have to wait even longer?”
There’s no malice behind his words, and only the smallest hint of frustration. But his hand begins tracing patterns on her thigh as he sits down next to her, fingers moving up to play at the hem of his shirt.
“I like when you wear my clothes,” he says with a barely repressed smile, eyeing her up and down. And she can’t help but move closer, wanting to curl up in his rough morning voice like a blanket. Without looking at him, she spits it out.
“Those people, the ones at City Hall last night? They want me to run for office.”
She feels him stiffen slightly, though his hands grip her with a new kind of excitement.
“Wow, Leslie...” he trails off, and she can practically hear his grin. “That’s amazing, I can’t believe--”
“They asked about scandals,” she says simply, interrupting him before his happiness crushes her. “I said I didn’t have any.”
He lets out a breath like he was waiting for that foot to drop, like he knew the news would be bad in the end. He turns her so they can look at each other, but she’s fiddling with her sleeve and avoiding his eyes.
“I’ve wanted to run for office forever,” she says meekly, her eyes flickering in the direction of her notebook. “Like, since I was in preschool.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he assures her, sounding shaky himself. “It won’t be easy, but--”
“Ben, I don’t think we can do this,” she blurts, her eyes stinging. “And it’s early to say so, I don’t even know what I’d run for yet, but I just...”
“Leslie. We’ve been doing this so far, right?”
“Yeah, but with little success.” She slumps over against the cushions.
“Like you said yesterday, though. We won’t talk to each other at work. I doubt anyone tails my car when I get off,” he gives her a pointed, amused grin, “and we can try to clear out your garage so I can park in there. Or really, it isn’t even that far of a walk from my place, and Andy stopped banging on my door at 4am to get me to join his X-Box Live games, and...”
And Leslie smiles, really genuinely smiles. Ben’s eyes are lit up and he’s rattling off these ideas, these ways they can stay together, and she starts to believe him. It’s like he’s had this stockpiled in his brain, emergency exits for when things go wrong, excuses for being found together. She almost reaches for her pen to write these down, to fill up the pros side of her chart, to balance out the idea of continuing this secret relationship and maybe, somehow things could work out.
“What office do they want you to run for?” he asks her excitedly, once she laughs and stops his constant flow of speech.
“They mentioned city council.” But then her giddiness takes over a little, because this is the first time she’s telling anyone out loud. “But oh my god, Ben... they also said mayor.”
He goes stock still, save for a wordless blink. Her brow furrows as he starts to fidget a little, looking away, breathing loudly.
“Oh. Do you think that’s something you’d want to do?”
And maybe she should have expected this, should have taken his past into account before she announced this. But this is about her, right? She’s not eighteen, and she doesn’t live in Minnesota, and she’s not Ben.
“I think it is,” she admits, looking to him for something. Anything. This blank contemplation is killing her, because he can either be happy for her or angry, and either one of them could make this hell. She needs to know what she’s dealing with.
“Well, that’s great,” he says warmly, his face breaking into a smile. And she breathes a small sigh of relief, lets him pull her into his lap, hugging her firmly before lowering his lips to hers. And she loses herself in him, falls just a little more, pushes him back on the couch and gets a head start on a lazy, languid Saturday.
Forgets about the paper behind the couch that says this is impossible.
---
He tells her to give it time. He says he’ll wait for her decision, leaves it up to her, because he’s already lost his race but Leslie’s just beginning hers.
They try the secret thing for a week. When they pass in the hall, they leave each other with little more than a nod. If she goes out to eat in the courtyard and he’s already there, she takes her salad and cookies back to her office. When he comes to discuss budget issues with the department, he takes them right to Ron, who is more than happy to discuss numbers if it means subtracting.
However, this seems to cause more alarm than sneaking around.
“Why aren’t you eating with Ben?” April asks suspiciously when Leslie wants to drag her out to J.J.’s for the third lunch this week. “I thought you guys were like messing around or something.”
Leslie can feel her face go pale.
“Ben is a colleague,” she says quickly, her palms beginning to sweat. “His face is too pointy and his hair’s like a porcupine and I’d never have sex with him in a million years even if all the other men were killed by mutant raccoons.”
“Right,” April says, rolling her eyes before returning her attention to her phone. Leslie runs to find Ben.
“Okay so, ignoring each other might be making things worse.”
“Chris did ask if our professional relationship was going through rough times,” he says grimly, his hand on the small of her back as they turn down a deserted hallway on the fourth floor. The fact that everyone is terrified of the halls up here is one advantage they’ve found in the building. “And Ron still seems a little weird every time I go to his office... I definitely think people suspect something.”
“Dammit,” she whispers urgently, leaning her forehead against the wall. She looks to him for help but he seems flustered, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a little messy. And she tries so hard to resist the urge to reach out, to feel his skin, to find a bit of comfort in his arms.
This Operation Shutdown thing was doomed from the start.
“I think maybe we should just cool off,” she suggest reluctantly, every neuron inside her screaming in frustration. “Just like, take this a little slower.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, but he already looks apprehensive.
“We talk again at work, but only see each other a few nights a week. Just relax a bit, to make hiding this easier. Make rules or something.”
“That doesn’t sound easier,” he says, but with a defeated shrug. “But we can try.”
He takes her out to dinner in Granville that night, and instead of laughing over their glasses of wine and deciding what movie to watch that night, Leslie’s in full-on work mode, scribbling down rules for them on her napkin.
“Barnes called me yesterday and wants to set up a day we can check in every week, to start spreading my name around and decide which office is best for me,” she says, so concentrated that Ben has to order for her. “I was thinking Thursdays for that, and I think we should have a buffer on each side.”
“So no seeing each other Wednesday or Friday?” he asks, sounding unsure.
“And probably Saturdays, since I imagine there will be events in the future. Sundays, though, that can be our day.” She smiles, but it reverts to a frown as she thinks further. “But probably not that night. We could do lunches then, or something.”
“Wait, you don’t want me to spend the night?”
“Maybe Mondays and Tuesdays. And always at my place, we can’t get caught by April.” Her cheeks burn as she remembers their conversation earlier, certain that the girl pays attention to much more than she lets on. “I feel like she knows too much.”
“This is weird,” he says with a little laugh, and his face hurts her. It isn’t like she enjoys this. She aches for the bubble, that pristine few weeks of untouched time together, holding hands in Ann’s office and actually going out to eat in Pawnee.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching out to grasp his hand. “I know this isn’t the best, but I don’t really know what to do yet, and...”
“It’s okay,” he assures her, and she feels his shoe tap against hers under the table.
Leslie realizes that the dinner they’re on probably counts as a date, and lets him stay the night under the promise that he only can one more time for the next week. She’s still waiting on Barnes, she’s still drawing venn diagrams to try to find the right fit for herself, she’s still avoiding that abandoned shred of evidence that points at the end of this relationship.
She keeps telling herself she’ll have another day.
--
For three weeks, they try the rules. Leslie has three meetings with Barnes and hardly speaks to Ben on any of those days, opting to call him early the following mornings when she knows he’s out of the shower. She brings him up to date quickly, tells him how things are looking more and more like she’s headed toward mayoral candidacy, reminds him that she misses him and they can get together tomorrow.
But the long days without seeing each other don’t last. They turn into more frequent phone calls, hourly texts, occasional lunch breaks outside of City Hall. He shows up at her doorstep unannounced with styrofoam take-out boxes in hand, she’s about to bite into a waffle at JJ’s when he walks through the door. And pretty soon, they’re back to square one.
“We should take a week off,” Leslie suggests, ready to bang her head against the wall when she realizes Ben’s over for the fourth night in a row and they’ve somehow been together every day this week without her even noticing. “Just like, let things settle.”
“A whole week with April and Andy?” he groans, shifting in his space below her on her couch. They’ve pretty much spent the weekend in this same position, moving only when articles of clothing need to be taken off or the tv needs to be muted (because, in Leslie’s words, “It feels weird to do you when Rachel Maddow is talking”).
“I’m serious, though. Nothing else is working.”
“And if the week apart works?” he asks, and she can hear the fear in his voice, snuggles against him closer.
“We’ll work it out from there.”
--
It isn’t the worst thing in the world, at first. She throws herself into her work, typing pages upon pages of plans for the observatory Chris wants to break ground on next spring. She treats Ron to a large lunch at that Mexican restaurant he loves one day, brings take-out over the Entertainment 720 for Tom another. She even takes Jerry out for coffee, in an attempt to fill her dull moments with company (though that just proves to be a mistake when Jerry takes a sip too soon and spits out the hot liquid onto Leslie’s padfolio). She whines to Ann over the phone until Ann forces her way into her house and drags Leslie to the mall with her.
“So you guys are just... not seeing each other?” Ann asks, one eyebrow arched as she files through cashmere-adorned hangers. “For a week?”
“Just like a little break,” Leslie shrugs, playing with the straw of her blue raspberry slushie, Ann leading the way through J Crew. It’s weird to talk about it, because she sometimes still forgets that nothing about her and Ben is normal by usual dating standards, and sometimes saying it out loud to Ann makes her feel silly.
“And you really think it’s going to make things better?”
“We’re just trying it out. Ann, I have no idea what to do here, and I just need to know which way to go--”
“You need to make a decision,” Ann says resolutely, patting Leslie on the shoulder. “You need to pick, and soon. You can’t keep stringing him along.”
“It’s not like this is easy for me!” Leslie yelps, trying not to spill on the nearby rack of blazers when her hands move up. “Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to give up Ben?”
“Do you think you love him?” Ann asks, looking Leslie right in the eye. “I mean, you asked me the same question about Mark. Do you think Ben’s The One?”
And that’s the big question, the thought that’s been echoing in Leslie’s mind. And the truth is, she doesn’t know yet. She’s worked beside him for a year, revels in his company and loses herself in his touch. He makes her smile, makes her pant, makes her chest constrict. But she doesn’t know that it’s love, not really. Not yet. In time, she’s sure she’ll get there. It’s not too far a leap. And yeah, she sees herself growing with him more clearly than with her other past boyfriends. But can she afford to give him that time when they can’t even commit to a full relationship out in the open?
“Either way, I’m doomed,” she answers dramatically, sipping at her straw and realizing her slurpee is empty. But a navy blue blazer catches her eye, the kind with a fancy fabric lining the inside, the kind that makes Leslie feel like she’s ready for any possible crisis, any surprise press conference. “Does this look like something a potential mayor would wear?”
Ann just takes her out for ice cream, pats her head and suggests getting really drunk at the Snakehole. That sounds like a pretty nice option when Leslie considers, and they find themselves in a booth two hours later, buzzed and bopping along to the generic hip hop music as Ann searches in her purse for a quarter to bounce into their glasses.
That’s when she sees him.
He’s sitting at the bar with Tom, quietly nursing his beer while Tom animatedly talks his head off, hands in the air, occasionally pausing to sing lyrics out loud to girls passing by. And she knows by Ben’s eyes that he’s had more than a few. His shirt is wrinkled and he keeps rubbing his forehead, nodding at Tom like he’s barely paying attention. There’s also this stubble adorning his jawline, short and dark like he decided not to shave that morning, and it makes her breath catch in her throat.
“I’ll talk to you later Ann,” she says, shifting herself over Ann’s lap and patting her messily on the head. She downs the rest of her cocktail and hands the glass over, trying not to trip. She’s not wasted, exactly, but everything’s hazy enough that she forgets the fact that she’s breaking every one of her self-made rules by making a beeline straight for Ben.
“Hey,” he says lazily, smiling when she approaches. He’s just far gone enough as well, motor skills only lightly dulled but conscience taking a harder hit. Tom gives her a high five and wanders off, following some tiny brunette who shimmies by them.
Leslie hoists herself up on the stool next to him and simply talks -- it’s been four days, the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other in months, she realizes -- tells him everything, even though it’s mostly boring and work-related and occasionally nonsensical. And she asks him a million odd questions, things she’s been wondering every day without him around. What did he have for breakfast, did he remember to fill his gas tank on Tuesday, has he called back his mom because really she called last week and it’s about time he got back to her?
“What are we doing?” he asks, when they’ve eased into each other and are a little more sober (alcohol has fallen on the wayside to stolen glances and shared laughter). “We’re supposed to be taking a break, or something?”
But she just stares, taking in the bead of sweat at his hairline, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, the scruff stretching itself perfectly over the angle of his jaw. And she stops caring, grabs his hand and leads him out of the club.
He ends up holding her against the wall in her living room, still dressed, vigorously thrusting up into her like four days without this has been a living hell. It’s truly ridiculous, how hard her hands are clutching at his hair, how hard she pulls him to her, how deeply she kisses him when he slumps against her in the after.
She leads him to her bed without a word but just ends up on top of him, lazy and slow, like suddenly she has to savor very moment, every sharp intake of his breath against her skin. She falls asleep against him, restlessly, remembering somewhere in the back of her mind that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
---
She’s woken up in the morning by the sharp ring of her cell phone. She’s up and in Ben’s shirt, the green checkered one she loves so much, in record time (because talking on the phone naked is awkward, what if it’s her mother?) and answers without looking at the caller ID.
“Leslie Knope.”
“Leslie? It’s William. I was speaking last night with some consultants around Gunderson’s office, and they seem to think you’re a shoo-in for opposing him.”
And she stops breathing.
Half an hour later, after a lot of head nodding and answers she feels are premature, she curls back up next to Ben. She thinks she has her answer, but this involves two people, not just her, and she watches him as she waits for him to wake.
“We’re gonna have to buy you your own shirts,” he mumbles when he senses her, pulling her closer toward him and kissing her temple. “Morning.”
“Hey,” she answers tentatively, not pushing him away but not quite answering his affection. “We need to talk.”
Ben insists on coffee first but she can see the strain on his face, knows he’s just trying to prolong whatever a “talk” might entail. And she gets it, she understands, because she’s been putting this off for weeks now and facing it is a little more than terrifying. Saying the words out loud are harder than thinking them, and she’s struggling to remember how to put on a brace face.
“Barnes thinks I have a really good chance at mayor,” she says across her kitchen table, once Ben’s eyes look more alert. He nods, knowing that’s not all, readying himself for what comes next. “Ben, this isn’t easy, I mean...”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice sounding like gravel despite his gentle tone. “You should do it. You have to do it.”
“But you...” She sighs, looking down. “We weren’t even supposed to, last night. But I think it’s because this is all up in the air. Nothing’s been concrete.”
Her mind wanders to that damn paper ball, the one she knows she’ll end up retrieving and tearing up once this ends. The thing that’s been haunting her, the end that she’s been hesitant to reach. It only took her a day to ask him to stay, but it’s taken her weeks to figure out how to let him go.
“We haven’t had a real disaster, though,” he offers, trying to stay upbeat. “Maybe rules aren’t really the way, but if we just keep quiet--”
“We have a relationship we can’t tell anyone about, Ben. And you make me happy -- really, really happy.” At this, he smiles sadly, looks down at the table. “But how long would we be able to do this? If I won, we still would have to keep this a secret! And what would we do, date behind closed doors for a few years until we realize we can’t even get married like normal people? And that’s if we didn’t get caught, which is about as likely as a raccoon eating my garbage because Joan Callamezzo is relentless, and--”
“You’ve thought about marriage?” he asks with wide eyes, his whole body going still.
“I’m just trying to think ahead,” she says, feeling a blush creep up on her cheeks. “And there’s no way I can see this all.. working out. In the future.” And it’s absolutely not fair, especially not to him, and she can’t even look him in the eye while she talks.
“You realize I stayed in Pawnee for you,” he says, his voice steady. He’s not angry or accusing, not throwing it in her face. He seems curious, like maybe she doesn’t know, like maybe if she’s certain about how much this relationship means to him, she’ll think this through more. “I mean... I’ve changed things. We can keep adapting. We’ve been doing it so far, we’re trying and--”
“What else would we change? Nothing’s going to make this okay unless one of us quits our job.” And Ben looks startled, like that option wasn’t allowed to him before, and makes his way to jump on it. “I’m not letting you quit,” she quickly states, shaking her head. “That’s not fair to you.”
“Why do you get to decide that?” he asks, with a quiet kind of frustration, under control but peaking through the cracks. Even so, he’s immediately remorseful. “It’s just... Leslie, if I want to be with you, why can’t I help you? I can’t ask you to not run for office, but I can--”
“You can’t--”
“But really, it can’t be too--”
“You can’t!” And her voice is raised, which she didn’t want to do, but she knows what would happen. If Ben quit, they wouldn’t even be able to say they’re together for ages, and the media would still turn it into a scandal. And where else would he even work? She crossed out that object weeks ago, can see the red line through the words in her mind. “You wouldn’t be happy anywhere else, if you didn’t work in government.”
“But this is kind of a big deal, you and me.” And he sounds hurt, bordering on desperate. She can tell he wants to reach out to her but is holding back, and it pains her to not meet him half way. “That makes me happy.”
“I know, Ben...” She closes her eyes, presses the lids tight because god, she knows. She’s happy with him, too, but she remembers a time when she was happy before him and believes she’ll be happy after. Believes that this lump in her throat will cease and one day, this won’t hurt so much. “It’s not like I like this. I just don’t think we can. This is... a much bigger risk than before.”
“But Leslie...”
“And it’s only been a little over a month.”
He recoils like she’s hit him, and she immediately regrets her words. But what’s fact is fact; they haven’t been together that long, and she doesn’t feel like that’s enough to let him quit his job or to risk all of her dreams.
“I just,” and she needs to steady her breath, say this in a strong voice. She needs to do that for herself. “Trying out other options hasn’t worked how I’d like it to, and I don’t see another way. I’ve written it out on paper, I tried. Really, I just... I’m so sorry.” She loses, her resolve breaking, and she has to hide her face in her hand.
Ben clenches his fists, looks like he has a mouthful to say, but bites it back. And she wants to circle her arms around him, wants to comfort him and be comforted, but she’s letting him go and she can’t do that anymore and needs to stop even considering it. And there’s this awkward fumbling, this weirdness as he goes to retrieve his things and get dressed and does not say a word. She tries to give his shirt back but he just holds up a hand in protest, keeps pressing it back into her palm.
She walks him to the door, trying to keep it together but just barely succeeding. And there’s so much she wants to say, attempts to tell him with her eyes, so many apologies and broken promises and she needs him to know that it’s taken her weeks to get here for a reason.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, hiding behind the door when she pulls it open. The corner of his mouth lifts, almost like an after thought, a defeated half-smile. He leans in and kisses her cheek.
“Pawnee’s lucky to have you,” he whispers into her ear, and then he’s gone.
Immediately, she pulls out the couch and throws the crumpled notebook page into the garbage. Then she goes back to bed, waits for the phone to ring, waits for this to feel okay, waits for that moment where she’s sure she’s made the absolute best decision.
She knows she has a lot of waiting ahead.
author: shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: R for sexual scenes
words: ~5000
spoilers: Loosely based on the Mike Schur interview about season 4, but those were vague tidbits to begin with
notes: I plan on this being about 6 chapters, though that may change. Thanks so much to swayinisdancin for helping me write this as i go along, and to cypanache for giving it a read-over. This one's taking me a lot to get through, so feedback is greatly appreciated!
She doesn't even tell him about being approached for office that night. It’s the first of what’s probably many missteps to come.
When Barnes and his team leave Leslie and Ben detects through the window that something's up, she knows she has no time to think about this on her own. He's already on his way over because she's rooted to the spot, smiling to try to convince herself that everything could possibly work out.
But she said there was no scandal. It feels like she already made the decision, though she doesn't know if it’s the right one yet.
So when he makes his way over to the table, she just looks up at him with the same smile. And he looks unsure, is about to open his mouth in inquiry, but she just stands on shaky legs and takes his hand. She leads him out to the parking lot, away from the sound of Tammy shrieking and Mouse Rat's familiar chords, and she ends up driving him to her house. It’s been weirdly quiet, Ben only stopping to break the silence outside her car.
“Won’t people notice my car’s still here?”
“We’ll come back,” she says, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, because that’s one more thing she doesn’t want to deal with now. She’s dog tired of secret keeping, feels exhausted by it even though it’s only been a few weeks. And to add another level to the game, another set of eyes to hide from, another group of places they can’t be seen together at... she’s not going to deal with it tonight.
So when she pulls him out of the car and kisses him on her porch, for all of Pawnee to see (if all of Pawnee wasn’t busy mourning the loss of a miniature horse), she feels the tiniest sense of relief somewhere. It’s fleeting but it’s there, the fact that she’s holding him to her in the open, letting this happen unabashedly for once. But she knows she has to move it inside, knows it can’t last.
He tries to ask her what’s wrong, insists that he can tell something’s bothering her, but she quiets him with her lips. And everything’s a little frantic, a little hazy, because she’s shoving his clothing off without turning on a light and moving him where she wants him to go and when she’s left collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, he sighs.
“You’re not telling me something,” he says simply, reaching a hand out to touch her. She squeezes her eyes shut, gives it a moment before she moves out of his grasp.
“I, uh, have some work to do. On the observatory.” She tries to smile at him as she hoists herself out of bed, slipping his red plaid over her shoulders and closing the door behind her. And it isn’t the first time she’s left him in bed, with her tendency to fall asleep later and wake up earlier than him. But she feels guilty, given how weird this night must be for him. And it sucks, it all sucks, but if she lays awake thinking about this with him laying next to her, she’ll be going in circles for hours.
Which is what she ends up doing anyway, scribbling on notepads in her dimly-lit living room, lines crossing over the page between words, like the threads of her life can be brought together by a simple stroke of her multi-colored pen. But it’s not that easy. And when she sees it on paper, it’s black and white - Ben’s only been in her life for a year, but she’s wanted to run for office since she was a little girl.
There’s a gray area, but it terrifies and tires her. This is a bigger risk and there’s more to lose, and the only way she could have both things in her life sounds just as unappealing as either of the other paths.
And she doesn’t want to believe it, can’t bring herself to yet, scribbles furiously over it until the indent from the pen reaches back for pages more. And she falls asleep with it crumpled in her fist, never quite reaching the garbage can.
She’s probably going to have to break up with Ben.
---
Though she’s woken up in the morning by a gentle tug at her hand, she sits up with a start and immediately throws the ball of paper behind the couch. Ben’s gaze follows it for a moment but lets it go.
“Are you going to talk to me now, or am I going to have to wait even longer?”
There’s no malice behind his words, and only the smallest hint of frustration. But his hand begins tracing patterns on her thigh as he sits down next to her, fingers moving up to play at the hem of his shirt.
“I like when you wear my clothes,” he says with a barely repressed smile, eyeing her up and down. And she can’t help but move closer, wanting to curl up in his rough morning voice like a blanket. Without looking at him, she spits it out.
“Those people, the ones at City Hall last night? They want me to run for office.”
She feels him stiffen slightly, though his hands grip her with a new kind of excitement.
“Wow, Leslie...” he trails off, and she can practically hear his grin. “That’s amazing, I can’t believe--”
“They asked about scandals,” she says simply, interrupting him before his happiness crushes her. “I said I didn’t have any.”
He lets out a breath like he was waiting for that foot to drop, like he knew the news would be bad in the end. He turns her so they can look at each other, but she’s fiddling with her sleeve and avoiding his eyes.
“I’ve wanted to run for office forever,” she says meekly, her eyes flickering in the direction of her notebook. “Like, since I was in preschool.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he assures her, sounding shaky himself. “It won’t be easy, but--”
“Ben, I don’t think we can do this,” she blurts, her eyes stinging. “And it’s early to say so, I don’t even know what I’d run for yet, but I just...”
“Leslie. We’ve been doing this so far, right?”
“Yeah, but with little success.” She slumps over against the cushions.
“Like you said yesterday, though. We won’t talk to each other at work. I doubt anyone tails my car when I get off,” he gives her a pointed, amused grin, “and we can try to clear out your garage so I can park in there. Or really, it isn’t even that far of a walk from my place, and Andy stopped banging on my door at 4am to get me to join his X-Box Live games, and...”
And Leslie smiles, really genuinely smiles. Ben’s eyes are lit up and he’s rattling off these ideas, these ways they can stay together, and she starts to believe him. It’s like he’s had this stockpiled in his brain, emergency exits for when things go wrong, excuses for being found together. She almost reaches for her pen to write these down, to fill up the pros side of her chart, to balance out the idea of continuing this secret relationship and maybe, somehow things could work out.
“What office do they want you to run for?” he asks her excitedly, once she laughs and stops his constant flow of speech.
“They mentioned city council.” But then her giddiness takes over a little, because this is the first time she’s telling anyone out loud. “But oh my god, Ben... they also said mayor.”
He goes stock still, save for a wordless blink. Her brow furrows as he starts to fidget a little, looking away, breathing loudly.
“Oh. Do you think that’s something you’d want to do?”
And maybe she should have expected this, should have taken his past into account before she announced this. But this is about her, right? She’s not eighteen, and she doesn’t live in Minnesota, and she’s not Ben.
“I think it is,” she admits, looking to him for something. Anything. This blank contemplation is killing her, because he can either be happy for her or angry, and either one of them could make this hell. She needs to know what she’s dealing with.
“Well, that’s great,” he says warmly, his face breaking into a smile. And she breathes a small sigh of relief, lets him pull her into his lap, hugging her firmly before lowering his lips to hers. And she loses herself in him, falls just a little more, pushes him back on the couch and gets a head start on a lazy, languid Saturday.
Forgets about the paper behind the couch that says this is impossible.
---
He tells her to give it time. He says he’ll wait for her decision, leaves it up to her, because he’s already lost his race but Leslie’s just beginning hers.
They try the secret thing for a week. When they pass in the hall, they leave each other with little more than a nod. If she goes out to eat in the courtyard and he’s already there, she takes her salad and cookies back to her office. When he comes to discuss budget issues with the department, he takes them right to Ron, who is more than happy to discuss numbers if it means subtracting.
However, this seems to cause more alarm than sneaking around.
“Why aren’t you eating with Ben?” April asks suspiciously when Leslie wants to drag her out to J.J.’s for the third lunch this week. “I thought you guys were like messing around or something.”
Leslie can feel her face go pale.
“Ben is a colleague,” she says quickly, her palms beginning to sweat. “His face is too pointy and his hair’s like a porcupine and I’d never have sex with him in a million years even if all the other men were killed by mutant raccoons.”
“Right,” April says, rolling her eyes before returning her attention to her phone. Leslie runs to find Ben.
“Okay so, ignoring each other might be making things worse.”
“Chris did ask if our professional relationship was going through rough times,” he says grimly, his hand on the small of her back as they turn down a deserted hallway on the fourth floor. The fact that everyone is terrified of the halls up here is one advantage they’ve found in the building. “And Ron still seems a little weird every time I go to his office... I definitely think people suspect something.”
“Dammit,” she whispers urgently, leaning her forehead against the wall. She looks to him for help but he seems flustered, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a little messy. And she tries so hard to resist the urge to reach out, to feel his skin, to find a bit of comfort in his arms.
This Operation Shutdown thing was doomed from the start.
“I think maybe we should just cool off,” she suggest reluctantly, every neuron inside her screaming in frustration. “Just like, take this a little slower.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, but he already looks apprehensive.
“We talk again at work, but only see each other a few nights a week. Just relax a bit, to make hiding this easier. Make rules or something.”
“That doesn’t sound easier,” he says, but with a defeated shrug. “But we can try.”
He takes her out to dinner in Granville that night, and instead of laughing over their glasses of wine and deciding what movie to watch that night, Leslie’s in full-on work mode, scribbling down rules for them on her napkin.
“Barnes called me yesterday and wants to set up a day we can check in every week, to start spreading my name around and decide which office is best for me,” she says, so concentrated that Ben has to order for her. “I was thinking Thursdays for that, and I think we should have a buffer on each side.”
“So no seeing each other Wednesday or Friday?” he asks, sounding unsure.
“And probably Saturdays, since I imagine there will be events in the future. Sundays, though, that can be our day.” She smiles, but it reverts to a frown as she thinks further. “But probably not that night. We could do lunches then, or something.”
“Wait, you don’t want me to spend the night?”
“Maybe Mondays and Tuesdays. And always at my place, we can’t get caught by April.” Her cheeks burn as she remembers their conversation earlier, certain that the girl pays attention to much more than she lets on. “I feel like she knows too much.”
“This is weird,” he says with a little laugh, and his face hurts her. It isn’t like she enjoys this. She aches for the bubble, that pristine few weeks of untouched time together, holding hands in Ann’s office and actually going out to eat in Pawnee.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching out to grasp his hand. “I know this isn’t the best, but I don’t really know what to do yet, and...”
“It’s okay,” he assures her, and she feels his shoe tap against hers under the table.
Leslie realizes that the dinner they’re on probably counts as a date, and lets him stay the night under the promise that he only can one more time for the next week. She’s still waiting on Barnes, she’s still drawing venn diagrams to try to find the right fit for herself, she’s still avoiding that abandoned shred of evidence that points at the end of this relationship.
She keeps telling herself she’ll have another day.
--
For three weeks, they try the rules. Leslie has three meetings with Barnes and hardly speaks to Ben on any of those days, opting to call him early the following mornings when she knows he’s out of the shower. She brings him up to date quickly, tells him how things are looking more and more like she’s headed toward mayoral candidacy, reminds him that she misses him and they can get together tomorrow.
But the long days without seeing each other don’t last. They turn into more frequent phone calls, hourly texts, occasional lunch breaks outside of City Hall. He shows up at her doorstep unannounced with styrofoam take-out boxes in hand, she’s about to bite into a waffle at JJ’s when he walks through the door. And pretty soon, they’re back to square one.
“We should take a week off,” Leslie suggests, ready to bang her head against the wall when she realizes Ben’s over for the fourth night in a row and they’ve somehow been together every day this week without her even noticing. “Just like, let things settle.”
“A whole week with April and Andy?” he groans, shifting in his space below her on her couch. They’ve pretty much spent the weekend in this same position, moving only when articles of clothing need to be taken off or the tv needs to be muted (because, in Leslie’s words, “It feels weird to do you when Rachel Maddow is talking”).
“I’m serious, though. Nothing else is working.”
“And if the week apart works?” he asks, and she can hear the fear in his voice, snuggles against him closer.
“We’ll work it out from there.”
--
It isn’t the worst thing in the world, at first. She throws herself into her work, typing pages upon pages of plans for the observatory Chris wants to break ground on next spring. She treats Ron to a large lunch at that Mexican restaurant he loves one day, brings take-out over the Entertainment 720 for Tom another. She even takes Jerry out for coffee, in an attempt to fill her dull moments with company (though that just proves to be a mistake when Jerry takes a sip too soon and spits out the hot liquid onto Leslie’s padfolio). She whines to Ann over the phone until Ann forces her way into her house and drags Leslie to the mall with her.
“So you guys are just... not seeing each other?” Ann asks, one eyebrow arched as she files through cashmere-adorned hangers. “For a week?”
“Just like a little break,” Leslie shrugs, playing with the straw of her blue raspberry slushie, Ann leading the way through J Crew. It’s weird to talk about it, because she sometimes still forgets that nothing about her and Ben is normal by usual dating standards, and sometimes saying it out loud to Ann makes her feel silly.
“And you really think it’s going to make things better?”
“We’re just trying it out. Ann, I have no idea what to do here, and I just need to know which way to go--”
“You need to make a decision,” Ann says resolutely, patting Leslie on the shoulder. “You need to pick, and soon. You can’t keep stringing him along.”
“It’s not like this is easy for me!” Leslie yelps, trying not to spill on the nearby rack of blazers when her hands move up. “Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to give up Ben?”
“Do you think you love him?” Ann asks, looking Leslie right in the eye. “I mean, you asked me the same question about Mark. Do you think Ben’s The One?”
And that’s the big question, the thought that’s been echoing in Leslie’s mind. And the truth is, she doesn’t know yet. She’s worked beside him for a year, revels in his company and loses herself in his touch. He makes her smile, makes her pant, makes her chest constrict. But she doesn’t know that it’s love, not really. Not yet. In time, she’s sure she’ll get there. It’s not too far a leap. And yeah, she sees herself growing with him more clearly than with her other past boyfriends. But can she afford to give him that time when they can’t even commit to a full relationship out in the open?
“Either way, I’m doomed,” she answers dramatically, sipping at her straw and realizing her slurpee is empty. But a navy blue blazer catches her eye, the kind with a fancy fabric lining the inside, the kind that makes Leslie feel like she’s ready for any possible crisis, any surprise press conference. “Does this look like something a potential mayor would wear?”
Ann just takes her out for ice cream, pats her head and suggests getting really drunk at the Snakehole. That sounds like a pretty nice option when Leslie considers, and they find themselves in a booth two hours later, buzzed and bopping along to the generic hip hop music as Ann searches in her purse for a quarter to bounce into their glasses.
That’s when she sees him.
He’s sitting at the bar with Tom, quietly nursing his beer while Tom animatedly talks his head off, hands in the air, occasionally pausing to sing lyrics out loud to girls passing by. And she knows by Ben’s eyes that he’s had more than a few. His shirt is wrinkled and he keeps rubbing his forehead, nodding at Tom like he’s barely paying attention. There’s also this stubble adorning his jawline, short and dark like he decided not to shave that morning, and it makes her breath catch in her throat.
“I’ll talk to you later Ann,” she says, shifting herself over Ann’s lap and patting her messily on the head. She downs the rest of her cocktail and hands the glass over, trying not to trip. She’s not wasted, exactly, but everything’s hazy enough that she forgets the fact that she’s breaking every one of her self-made rules by making a beeline straight for Ben.
“Hey,” he says lazily, smiling when she approaches. He’s just far gone enough as well, motor skills only lightly dulled but conscience taking a harder hit. Tom gives her a high five and wanders off, following some tiny brunette who shimmies by them.
Leslie hoists herself up on the stool next to him and simply talks -- it’s been four days, the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other in months, she realizes -- tells him everything, even though it’s mostly boring and work-related and occasionally nonsensical. And she asks him a million odd questions, things she’s been wondering every day without him around. What did he have for breakfast, did he remember to fill his gas tank on Tuesday, has he called back his mom because really she called last week and it’s about time he got back to her?
“What are we doing?” he asks, when they’ve eased into each other and are a little more sober (alcohol has fallen on the wayside to stolen glances and shared laughter). “We’re supposed to be taking a break, or something?”
But she just stares, taking in the bead of sweat at his hairline, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, the scruff stretching itself perfectly over the angle of his jaw. And she stops caring, grabs his hand and leads him out of the club.
He ends up holding her against the wall in her living room, still dressed, vigorously thrusting up into her like four days without this has been a living hell. It’s truly ridiculous, how hard her hands are clutching at his hair, how hard she pulls him to her, how deeply she kisses him when he slumps against her in the after.
She leads him to her bed without a word but just ends up on top of him, lazy and slow, like suddenly she has to savor very moment, every sharp intake of his breath against her skin. She falls asleep against him, restlessly, remembering somewhere in the back of her mind that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
---
She’s woken up in the morning by the sharp ring of her cell phone. She’s up and in Ben’s shirt, the green checkered one she loves so much, in record time (because talking on the phone naked is awkward, what if it’s her mother?) and answers without looking at the caller ID.
“Leslie Knope.”
“Leslie? It’s William. I was speaking last night with some consultants around Gunderson’s office, and they seem to think you’re a shoo-in for opposing him.”
And she stops breathing.
Half an hour later, after a lot of head nodding and answers she feels are premature, she curls back up next to Ben. She thinks she has her answer, but this involves two people, not just her, and she watches him as she waits for him to wake.
“We’re gonna have to buy you your own shirts,” he mumbles when he senses her, pulling her closer toward him and kissing her temple. “Morning.”
“Hey,” she answers tentatively, not pushing him away but not quite answering his affection. “We need to talk.”
Ben insists on coffee first but she can see the strain on his face, knows he’s just trying to prolong whatever a “talk” might entail. And she gets it, she understands, because she’s been putting this off for weeks now and facing it is a little more than terrifying. Saying the words out loud are harder than thinking them, and she’s struggling to remember how to put on a brace face.
“Barnes thinks I have a really good chance at mayor,” she says across her kitchen table, once Ben’s eyes look more alert. He nods, knowing that’s not all, readying himself for what comes next. “Ben, this isn’t easy, I mean...”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice sounding like gravel despite his gentle tone. “You should do it. You have to do it.”
“But you...” She sighs, looking down. “We weren’t even supposed to, last night. But I think it’s because this is all up in the air. Nothing’s been concrete.”
Her mind wanders to that damn paper ball, the one she knows she’ll end up retrieving and tearing up once this ends. The thing that’s been haunting her, the end that she’s been hesitant to reach. It only took her a day to ask him to stay, but it’s taken her weeks to figure out how to let him go.
“We haven’t had a real disaster, though,” he offers, trying to stay upbeat. “Maybe rules aren’t really the way, but if we just keep quiet--”
“We have a relationship we can’t tell anyone about, Ben. And you make me happy -- really, really happy.” At this, he smiles sadly, looks down at the table. “But how long would we be able to do this? If I won, we still would have to keep this a secret! And what would we do, date behind closed doors for a few years until we realize we can’t even get married like normal people? And that’s if we didn’t get caught, which is about as likely as a raccoon eating my garbage because Joan Callamezzo is relentless, and--”
“You’ve thought about marriage?” he asks with wide eyes, his whole body going still.
“I’m just trying to think ahead,” she says, feeling a blush creep up on her cheeks. “And there’s no way I can see this all.. working out. In the future.” And it’s absolutely not fair, especially not to him, and she can’t even look him in the eye while she talks.
“You realize I stayed in Pawnee for you,” he says, his voice steady. He’s not angry or accusing, not throwing it in her face. He seems curious, like maybe she doesn’t know, like maybe if she’s certain about how much this relationship means to him, she’ll think this through more. “I mean... I’ve changed things. We can keep adapting. We’ve been doing it so far, we’re trying and--”
“What else would we change? Nothing’s going to make this okay unless one of us quits our job.” And Ben looks startled, like that option wasn’t allowed to him before, and makes his way to jump on it. “I’m not letting you quit,” she quickly states, shaking her head. “That’s not fair to you.”
“Why do you get to decide that?” he asks, with a quiet kind of frustration, under control but peaking through the cracks. Even so, he’s immediately remorseful. “It’s just... Leslie, if I want to be with you, why can’t I help you? I can’t ask you to not run for office, but I can--”
“You can’t--”
“But really, it can’t be too--”
“You can’t!” And her voice is raised, which she didn’t want to do, but she knows what would happen. If Ben quit, they wouldn’t even be able to say they’re together for ages, and the media would still turn it into a scandal. And where else would he even work? She crossed out that object weeks ago, can see the red line through the words in her mind. “You wouldn’t be happy anywhere else, if you didn’t work in government.”
“But this is kind of a big deal, you and me.” And he sounds hurt, bordering on desperate. She can tell he wants to reach out to her but is holding back, and it pains her to not meet him half way. “That makes me happy.”
“I know, Ben...” She closes her eyes, presses the lids tight because god, she knows. She’s happy with him, too, but she remembers a time when she was happy before him and believes she’ll be happy after. Believes that this lump in her throat will cease and one day, this won’t hurt so much. “It’s not like I like this. I just don’t think we can. This is... a much bigger risk than before.”
“But Leslie...”
“And it’s only been a little over a month.”
He recoils like she’s hit him, and she immediately regrets her words. But what’s fact is fact; they haven’t been together that long, and she doesn’t feel like that’s enough to let him quit his job or to risk all of her dreams.
“I just,” and she needs to steady her breath, say this in a strong voice. She needs to do that for herself. “Trying out other options hasn’t worked how I’d like it to, and I don’t see another way. I’ve written it out on paper, I tried. Really, I just... I’m so sorry.” She loses, her resolve breaking, and she has to hide her face in her hand.
Ben clenches his fists, looks like he has a mouthful to say, but bites it back. And she wants to circle her arms around him, wants to comfort him and be comforted, but she’s letting him go and she can’t do that anymore and needs to stop even considering it. And there’s this awkward fumbling, this weirdness as he goes to retrieve his things and get dressed and does not say a word. She tries to give his shirt back but he just holds up a hand in protest, keeps pressing it back into her palm.
She walks him to the door, trying to keep it together but just barely succeeding. And there’s so much she wants to say, attempts to tell him with her eyes, so many apologies and broken promises and she needs him to know that it’s taken her weeks to get here for a reason.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, hiding behind the door when she pulls it open. The corner of his mouth lifts, almost like an after thought, a defeated half-smile. He leans in and kisses her cheek.
“Pawnee’s lucky to have you,” he whispers into her ear, and then he’s gone.
Immediately, she pulls out the couch and throws the crumpled notebook page into the garbage. Then she goes back to bed, waits for the phone to ring, waits for this to feel okay, waits for that moment where she’s sure she’s made the absolute best decision.
She knows she has a lot of waiting ahead.