fic: question, leslie/ben, pg13
title: Question
author:
shornt
pairing: Ben/Leslie
rating: PG13 (language)
words: ~1700
notes: Usual thanks to fairytiger because I never believe anything is worth posting until she approves, and also I kind of want to dedicate this to americnxidiot because I kept prompting her and pressuring her and she popped out two fics this week. This is just kind of gratuitous, hyper, romantic fluff.
It’s election night, and everyone is pretty much out of their minds.
The entire campaign team is gathered at the usual campaign headquarters, decked out in more KNOPE 2012 than ever before. Even Champion is wearing a patriotic dog collar that Leslie bought at the store and pinned a button onto, like some sort of good luck charm. She isn’t sure if dogs are lucky animals in other cultures, but she likes to cover all her bases.
She hasn’t been still for hours, after waking up bright and early only 45 minutes after she and Ben went to bed last night. The day’s been a blur of anxious adrenaline, writing possible concession calls to Bobby Newport, mixing those index cards up with the possible winning speech ones, and holding Ben’s hand as tightly as possible when people aren’t looking.
“Whatever happens,” he keeps saying with a nervous smile, squeezing her hand back. He’s been all over the place too, more jumpy than usual, continually smoothing out his slacks and fiddling with his skinny tie.
The rest are various states of excitement, the house abuzz with nerves. Andy obliviously waits on everyone, smiling like Leslie’s already won and patting everyone on the back. April feigns disinterest but her leg hasn’t stopped jiggling all morning. Donna and Jerry play card games in the corner while Tom keeps consulting Leslie on the wardrobe he thinks she should wear if she wins (“Tom, for the last time, I don’t need a pink sweatsuit for council meetings”). Ann flits around to act as mediator, keeping Leslie’s coffee piled high with whipped cream. Ron sits stark still by the fireplace, only moving to send Leslie reassuring glances and to refill his deviled egg plate.
Perd’s going to have the results on Ya Heard, and that’s still half an hour away, and no one’s paying attention to the syndicated sitcom reruns that have been playing softly all afternoon. When Marlene finally makes her entrance, Leslie feels sanity slip even farther away, because this matters and this is everything and crap, my mother is here. Until she looks at Ben, and remembers there are other things too, and either way, she’s got a pretty awesome life right now.
But she still really wants this.
“You’re treading a path in the carpet,” Ben teases, catching her pacing around the living room for the fiftieth time.
“I can’t sit still,” she says unnecessarily, as if that wasn’t obvious. She shakes out her limbs, her blazer feeling too tight and sweaty, the collar of her blouse immediately choking her. Pulling at it with her thumb, she exaggerates a gag.
“Just deep breaths.” He lays his hands on her shoulders, reassuringly, kneading at the tense muscles. She cracks her neck and gives him a grateful smile, letting him lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. Over Ben’s shoulder, Marlene gives her an look of approval, Ann throws yet another thumbs up. Suddenly Jean Ralphio burst through the door, throwing Tom double fist-bumps. Apparently it isn’t loud enough yet. Ben steps to the side, keeping a hand on her shoulder as the tall hair approaches.
“KNOOOOOOOOOPE. You’re totally gonna win fellowship of the city or whatever! I can feel it in my gonads, and trust me, they’re never wrong.”
“Thanks,” she says, her nose scrunching.
He’s right, though. She’s totally gonna win.
Totally.
Probably.
Her hand pats Ben on the waist before she moves to the kitchen, bracing herself against the counter. Ann magically appears behind her with a glass of water, which Leslie eyes wearily.
“Sugar’s only gonna make your nerves worse,” Ann says, reading her mind. Leslie takes a small sip, but her stomach is home to too many butterflies to keep much more down.
“Perd’s on!” Jerry calls across the room, and Leslie’s hands bunch into fists. Ann leads her by the arm to the couch, but Leslie can only stand, shifting weight from one foot to the other. Perd teases the show and throws it to commercial with a quick, “The mystery this reporter has to solve is the Pawnee election.” The tension in the room rises as the Sweetums jingle takes over.
“Well, Knope,” Ron says, offering his hand out. “Good luck.” As Leslie takes his hand in a firm shake, she sees the glint in his eyes and clings to it, feeling tears fill her own. And ugh, she can’t cry, she hasn’t even won or lost yet. But Jesus Christ, this waiting. And Ron’s looking at her like she’s the most important non-breakfast item right now, and it doesn’t take a lot to realize the whole room is throwing her similar glances, and wow it’s a lot to take--
“Hey, Les,” Ben whispers, tugging her hand. She’s glad to get away for a moment as he pulls her into his room, softly shutting the door behind them. “Thought you might, uh, want a moment.”
He’s fiddling with his pants, like something isn’t fitting correctly, so she swats at his hands and grips them tightly in her own.
“I didn’t realize it’d feel this intense.”
“You feel everything intensely.” She looks up into his smile, warm with affection, and leans up, her nose touching his and their lips barely grazing. But he steps back, looks to the ground, his brow creased. “And um, about feelings--” His hand goes back to his pants, and really, does she have to buy him a new pair or something?
“Ben, what the hell is up with your pants?”
“It’s just, I thought maybe--” His hair bounces around with with his anxious movements, and he reaches to his pocket just as someone bangs loudly on the door.
“LESLIE,” Andy yells with glee, banging harder. “IT’S BACK ON! STOP HAVING SEX WITH BEN AND COME BACK OUT!!”
“Yeah, Ben, keep your pants on,” April joins in the background.
Leslie glances at the door and back at Ben.
“Go,” he urges, a grin breaking out on his face.
She all but runs out the door (and maybe creates a dent in Ben’s bedroom wall where the doorknob hits), nearly knocking down Andy in her path to the television. Perd is reading results of other offices, saving the bigger ones for last. It’s another year until they vote for mayor, so City Council is saved for the end of the list.
Leslie suddenly feels both her hands being taken, Ann on the left and her mom on the right. Her eyes search for Ben and find him, just behind the crowd, looking just as crazed as she feels.
“And the office we’ve saved for last is City Council. After quite an interesting campaign, the winner is Parks and Recreation employee, Leslie Knope.”
There’s a resounding cheer in the room and suddenly loud rap music starts blasting. She’s being pulled into hugs, her mother around her shoulders and Ann around her neck and Andy’s coming in for a high five. Leslie just hears the bass notes reverberate in her ears, unable to comprehend the moment, until she’s finally freed from the pile of limbs and finds Ben.
Ben, who’s looking at her like some kind of mirage and hero all at once, like he’s never been more proud in his life.
Ben, whom she could never have done this without.
Ben, that guy she’s in love with.
And suddenly, there’s one more thing she can do to make this moment even better.
He holds out his hands, eyes shining, and she throws herself toward him with a laugh, feeling her feet leave the ground with the force of his hug. He tries to spin her and fails, stumbling against her and all she hears is his laughter, all she feels is his hands on her hips and his legs twining with hers, looking for balance.
And it just bubbles out of her.
“Marry me.”
Ben seems to trip again, his eyebrows practically shooting up to his hair line.
“What?”
“Marry me!” she yelps, and now she can’t stop smiling, and then -- yup, she’s lost control of the tears situation. And this is insane, she’s put zero thought into this, but somehow it’s absolutely right.
She’s saved the anticipation of a verbal reply when Ben simply swoops in, claiming her bottom lip and cradling her face in his hands, her tears against his cheek. Holy... shit.
“Wait,” she mumbles between kisses, Ben unable to let go. “Is... that... yes?”
His hand leaves her face as he keeps kissing her, but then she feels him slip something into her hand. Something distinctly hard and velvety.
“Open it,” he whispers in her ear, kissing the lobe. It takes a bit of face-wiping, and her shaky hands just barely manage.
It’s a ring. Of course it is.
“You upstaged me a little,” he says, nudging her ribs.
“You planned--”
“Yup.”
“Tonight?”
“Yup. I was gonna do it before the results, but--”
She never hears the end of the sentence because she’s too busy making out with his stupid face, tongue curling against his lips and arms wrapped around him like she can’t get close enough.
Then she remembers they’re not alone.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Ann’s squealing loudly, her hands clutching her face. Leslie manages to disentangle herself enough to look around. Andy’s whooping and laughing, Tom and Jean Ralphio dancing crazily in the middle of the floor. Donna whistles with a huge grin, Jerry is clapping. Ron nods with the smallest of grins, and even April has the ghost of a smile on her face.
“Oh, honey,” Marlene lets out, even her eyes a little wet.
And Leslie feels everything hit her at once.
“Crap on a craisin,” she breathes out, breath getting caught in her throat. And suddenly she’s pulled into a massive dance party, and the night becomes a blur of hugs, drinks, smiles and congratulations. And, later, a blur of Ben.
“So, councilwoman Knope,” Ben whispers, when they’re wrapped around each other in bed, red-faced and grinning. “How does it feel?”
“Soon to be Knope-Wyatt,” she corrects, leaning in to kiss his jaw.
Councilwoman Knope-Wyatt.
It has a nice ring to it.
author:
shornt
pairing: Ben/Leslie
rating: PG13 (language)
words: ~1700
notes: Usual thanks to fairytiger because I never believe anything is worth posting until she approves, and also I kind of want to dedicate this to americnxidiot because I kept prompting her and pressuring her and she popped out two fics this week. This is just kind of gratuitous, hyper, romantic fluff.
It’s election night, and everyone is pretty much out of their minds.
The entire campaign team is gathered at the usual campaign headquarters, decked out in more KNOPE 2012 than ever before. Even Champion is wearing a patriotic dog collar that Leslie bought at the store and pinned a button onto, like some sort of good luck charm. She isn’t sure if dogs are lucky animals in other cultures, but she likes to cover all her bases.
She hasn’t been still for hours, after waking up bright and early only 45 minutes after she and Ben went to bed last night. The day’s been a blur of anxious adrenaline, writing possible concession calls to Bobby Newport, mixing those index cards up with the possible winning speech ones, and holding Ben’s hand as tightly as possible when people aren’t looking.
“Whatever happens,” he keeps saying with a nervous smile, squeezing her hand back. He’s been all over the place too, more jumpy than usual, continually smoothing out his slacks and fiddling with his skinny tie.
The rest are various states of excitement, the house abuzz with nerves. Andy obliviously waits on everyone, smiling like Leslie’s already won and patting everyone on the back. April feigns disinterest but her leg hasn’t stopped jiggling all morning. Donna and Jerry play card games in the corner while Tom keeps consulting Leslie on the wardrobe he thinks she should wear if she wins (“Tom, for the last time, I don’t need a pink sweatsuit for council meetings”). Ann flits around to act as mediator, keeping Leslie’s coffee piled high with whipped cream. Ron sits stark still by the fireplace, only moving to send Leslie reassuring glances and to refill his deviled egg plate.
Perd’s going to have the results on Ya Heard, and that’s still half an hour away, and no one’s paying attention to the syndicated sitcom reruns that have been playing softly all afternoon. When Marlene finally makes her entrance, Leslie feels sanity slip even farther away, because this matters and this is everything and crap, my mother is here. Until she looks at Ben, and remembers there are other things too, and either way, she’s got a pretty awesome life right now.
But she still really wants this.
“You’re treading a path in the carpet,” Ben teases, catching her pacing around the living room for the fiftieth time.
“I can’t sit still,” she says unnecessarily, as if that wasn’t obvious. She shakes out her limbs, her blazer feeling too tight and sweaty, the collar of her blouse immediately choking her. Pulling at it with her thumb, she exaggerates a gag.
“Just deep breaths.” He lays his hands on her shoulders, reassuringly, kneading at the tense muscles. She cracks her neck and gives him a grateful smile, letting him lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. Over Ben’s shoulder, Marlene gives her an look of approval, Ann throws yet another thumbs up. Suddenly Jean Ralphio burst through the door, throwing Tom double fist-bumps. Apparently it isn’t loud enough yet. Ben steps to the side, keeping a hand on her shoulder as the tall hair approaches.
“KNOOOOOOOOOPE. You’re totally gonna win fellowship of the city or whatever! I can feel it in my gonads, and trust me, they’re never wrong.”
“Thanks,” she says, her nose scrunching.
He’s right, though. She’s totally gonna win.
Totally.
Probably.
Her hand pats Ben on the waist before she moves to the kitchen, bracing herself against the counter. Ann magically appears behind her with a glass of water, which Leslie eyes wearily.
“Sugar’s only gonna make your nerves worse,” Ann says, reading her mind. Leslie takes a small sip, but her stomach is home to too many butterflies to keep much more down.
“Perd’s on!” Jerry calls across the room, and Leslie’s hands bunch into fists. Ann leads her by the arm to the couch, but Leslie can only stand, shifting weight from one foot to the other. Perd teases the show and throws it to commercial with a quick, “The mystery this reporter has to solve is the Pawnee election.” The tension in the room rises as the Sweetums jingle takes over.
“Well, Knope,” Ron says, offering his hand out. “Good luck.” As Leslie takes his hand in a firm shake, she sees the glint in his eyes and clings to it, feeling tears fill her own. And ugh, she can’t cry, she hasn’t even won or lost yet. But Jesus Christ, this waiting. And Ron’s looking at her like she’s the most important non-breakfast item right now, and it doesn’t take a lot to realize the whole room is throwing her similar glances, and wow it’s a lot to take--
“Hey, Les,” Ben whispers, tugging her hand. She’s glad to get away for a moment as he pulls her into his room, softly shutting the door behind them. “Thought you might, uh, want a moment.”
He’s fiddling with his pants, like something isn’t fitting correctly, so she swats at his hands and grips them tightly in her own.
“I didn’t realize it’d feel this intense.”
“You feel everything intensely.” She looks up into his smile, warm with affection, and leans up, her nose touching his and their lips barely grazing. But he steps back, looks to the ground, his brow creased. “And um, about feelings--” His hand goes back to his pants, and really, does she have to buy him a new pair or something?
“Ben, what the hell is up with your pants?”
“It’s just, I thought maybe--” His hair bounces around with with his anxious movements, and he reaches to his pocket just as someone bangs loudly on the door.
“LESLIE,” Andy yells with glee, banging harder. “IT’S BACK ON! STOP HAVING SEX WITH BEN AND COME BACK OUT!!”
“Yeah, Ben, keep your pants on,” April joins in the background.
Leslie glances at the door and back at Ben.
“Go,” he urges, a grin breaking out on his face.
She all but runs out the door (and maybe creates a dent in Ben’s bedroom wall where the doorknob hits), nearly knocking down Andy in her path to the television. Perd is reading results of other offices, saving the bigger ones for last. It’s another year until they vote for mayor, so City Council is saved for the end of the list.
Leslie suddenly feels both her hands being taken, Ann on the left and her mom on the right. Her eyes search for Ben and find him, just behind the crowd, looking just as crazed as she feels.
“And the office we’ve saved for last is City Council. After quite an interesting campaign, the winner is Parks and Recreation employee, Leslie Knope.”
There’s a resounding cheer in the room and suddenly loud rap music starts blasting. She’s being pulled into hugs, her mother around her shoulders and Ann around her neck and Andy’s coming in for a high five. Leslie just hears the bass notes reverberate in her ears, unable to comprehend the moment, until she’s finally freed from the pile of limbs and finds Ben.
Ben, who’s looking at her like some kind of mirage and hero all at once, like he’s never been more proud in his life.
Ben, whom she could never have done this without.
Ben, that guy she’s in love with.
And suddenly, there’s one more thing she can do to make this moment even better.
He holds out his hands, eyes shining, and she throws herself toward him with a laugh, feeling her feet leave the ground with the force of his hug. He tries to spin her and fails, stumbling against her and all she hears is his laughter, all she feels is his hands on her hips and his legs twining with hers, looking for balance.
And it just bubbles out of her.
“Marry me.”
Ben seems to trip again, his eyebrows practically shooting up to his hair line.
“What?”
“Marry me!” she yelps, and now she can’t stop smiling, and then -- yup, she’s lost control of the tears situation. And this is insane, she’s put zero thought into this, but somehow it’s absolutely right.
She’s saved the anticipation of a verbal reply when Ben simply swoops in, claiming her bottom lip and cradling her face in his hands, her tears against his cheek. Holy... shit.
“Wait,” she mumbles between kisses, Ben unable to let go. “Is... that... yes?”
His hand leaves her face as he keeps kissing her, but then she feels him slip something into her hand. Something distinctly hard and velvety.
“Open it,” he whispers in her ear, kissing the lobe. It takes a bit of face-wiping, and her shaky hands just barely manage.
It’s a ring. Of course it is.
“You upstaged me a little,” he says, nudging her ribs.
“You planned--”
“Yup.”
“Tonight?”
“Yup. I was gonna do it before the results, but--”
She never hears the end of the sentence because she’s too busy making out with his stupid face, tongue curling against his lips and arms wrapped around him like she can’t get close enough.
Then she remembers they’re not alone.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Ann’s squealing loudly, her hands clutching her face. Leslie manages to disentangle herself enough to look around. Andy’s whooping and laughing, Tom and Jean Ralphio dancing crazily in the middle of the floor. Donna whistles with a huge grin, Jerry is clapping. Ron nods with the smallest of grins, and even April has the ghost of a smile on her face.
“Oh, honey,” Marlene lets out, even her eyes a little wet.
And Leslie feels everything hit her at once.
“Crap on a craisin,” she breathes out, breath getting caught in her throat. And suddenly she’s pulled into a massive dance party, and the night becomes a blur of hugs, drinks, smiles and congratulations. And, later, a blur of Ben.
“So, councilwoman Knope,” Ben whispers, when they’re wrapped around each other in bed, red-faced and grinning. “How does it feel?”
“Soon to be Knope-Wyatt,” she corrects, leaning in to kiss his jaw.
Councilwoman Knope-Wyatt.
It has a nice ring to it.