fic: baby we'll be fine (ann/leslie, pg13)
title: Baby, We'll Be Fine
author:
shornt
pairing: Ann/Leslie, with some Leslie/Ben in the background
rating: PG13, I'd say? Lots of drunkenness
words: ~3200
notes: This is a very new venture to me, but once Amy Poehler mentioned the nature of some Ann/Leslie outtakes, I couldn't resist. This is kind of like an alternative to The Fight, though it almost fits into canon. Thanks Caitlin for encouraging me.
Things have been a little blurry for a while now, but it doesn’t stop this seething ray of anger. It’s been building for some time, like all day, but Leslie’s been trying to ignore it because what use is it being mad at your very best friend?
But it’s a lot of use when your best friend is mad at you too, and is just being a generally careless jerk who doesn’t care about government or possible collaborations between the health and parks department or best friends who are trying their best to welcome your revolving door of boyfriends only to never see them again after learning their names.
She still can’t believe that after all the prep she put together for Ann, all of the steps Ann had to take to get a job where she could really make change and be important, all the strings Leslie was continuing to try to pull, Ann came here. To dance with one of the grossest men in Pawnee -- and there are a lot of gross men in Pawnee. Like that guy who took Leslie on a moonlight walk once, but ended up being really good at masking drunk and fell face-first into the Ramsett Park toilets when going to the bathroom. In the ladies room.
The Douche may be funny at 5am but he’s still probably grosser than that.
And there’s just been this revolving carousel of complaints circling in Leslie’s mind. The book Ann won’t try to get back for her, the job interview Ann doesn’t seem to want to go to, the hard work that Ann obviously doesn’t appreciate, the jab about Ben (and really, what is Leslie supposed to do about Ben? Make out with his face and get fired? He won’t even dance with her tonight, so), and the fact that Ann is so obviously lying when she says she isn’t mad.
Just, Ann is supposed to be the one who gets this. Who gets Leslie and everything about her. Leslie’s used to hearing that she goes overboard. Of course she hears it, she loves going overboard! That’s how you cover all your bases. But she thought Ann appreciated the help. And if you just let Ann slide, she stands in one place, and lets Andy boss her around or lets Mark decide her future.
Sometimes Ann needs a nudge. And who’s better at nudging than Leslie? Really, it’s just logic.
But right now logic’s losing to the fact that it’s essential that Leslie out-dance Ann. Like, she doesn’t think anything’s ever been as important than this in her life. It’s probably all come down to this and it’s gonna decide her fate, or something.
It’s insanely hot in the Snakehole. Like, disgusting. Leslie’s pretty sure her own hair is about to melt off and then it’s just gonna fuse with her shirt and the ducks will be blonde and how is she supposed to keep dancing when that happens? The ducks are going to have all her hard work on her hair and she’s gonna be bald and then Ben’s going to hate her and Ann’s just going to laugh and she’ll be stuck with Jean Ralphio forever.
Even though he’s currently being a super effective dance partner (because humping was what she was going for and he’s delivering, though it just makes Ann grind on the Douche more, and ugh stop that Ann), it’s not a future she wants.
Wait, why is she dancing again?
There’s a weird swaying moment where she reaches out her hand for balance and isn’t sure who’s shoulder it lands on, and her shoe is just really uncomfortable so she bends down to fix it. But wow, that’s really not a good idea, and now she’s seeing triple.
“Assault!” someone barks, and she realizes the sweater under her palm is Ann’s. She pulls her hand away viciously.
“You’re too pretty to ever assault because who wants to mess up your face?!”
Well, it sounded like an insult in her head.
And it’s true, unfortunately. Leslie would never be able to punch Ann because why would she want to give her a black eye? That would just be unfair to genetics. And she gets a little captivated by Ann’s answering scowl, the perfect crease of her eyebrows and the sweat on her temple, and the way her skin glows really nicely when the strobe lights are yellow.
Ugh she’s just so... pretty.
“And you’re being dumb!” she adds, for effect. That’ll show her.
“Well you’re ridiculous!” Ann spits. No literally, there is spit on Leslie’s arm and oh my god she is going to have to spit back whether that was intentional or not, but Ann stomps off to the bathrooms before she has the chance.
“We’re not done dancing!” Leslie yells, but pushes at Jean Ralphio’s ear so he can just get off her.
“But baby, you’re still mad at her, and I don’t mind standing in!” But Leslie’s too busy to listen to his list of ways he wouldn’t mind her hitting him, because she’s trying to fight through the crowd and ignore Ben’s sad puppy dog face (ugh, he turned her down, whatever) to reach Ann, who’s staring at her with her arms crossed and narrowly misses getting hit by the bathroom door opening.
“Watch it!” she shouts sloppily at the girl walking past, before her eyes turn to shoot daggers at Leslie.
It’s alarming, really, the effect that has. She always told Ann, those eyes could tell novels. Read novels? She does have good eyesight. Hmm. Something like that, anyway. But it’s not the time to stare into Ann’s eyes.
“We were having a perfectly good dance fight!” she yells, because out of all the things that have happened tonight, Ann abandoning the dance floor is at least the most recent.
“You wouldn’t have won it anyway! Jean Ralphio was humping your leg!”
“I meant for that! The Douche is being a total douche, by the way!”
“Well I meant for that!”
It’s hard to fight when Ann’s being all fiery and difficult. Usually Ann tries to reason, calmly dissecting whatever Leslie has to say. But they’ve never fought, and she’s never seen Ann yell like this, and passion’s a nice color on her. It might be angry passion, but there’s something about the twist of Ann’s wrist as she flails her hand angrily to make her point that makes Leslie stop for a moment.
“You deserve better than that.”
“Who are you to decide what I deserve?”
It’s ridiculous, and these crazy girls keep walking in between them as if they’re not trying to have a private conversation here, and Ann keeps saying words like “controlling” and “helping” and “pushing” and since when are these terrible things?
“I don’t even know if I want to work in City Hall! Maybe I don’t! Maybe I think it sucks there, and that raccoons could run Pawnee! How do you feel about that? A raccoon mayor!”
That one hurt. Point, Perkins.
“You’re stupid and you’re a jerk and you’re stupid!” she fights back, completely out of words. This hallway is loud and dark and annoying and filled with nosy girls trying to get in their fight so Leslie turns around to go in the bathroom, because its bright and maybe there will be less people.
Ann follows in a huff and seeing her in the bright lights is a whole different thing. Her makeup’s smudged, her hair sleek with sweat and somehow it’s still a look she can pull off. And Leslie thinks about how much she just wants to hug her, because she usually goes to Ann with these things and Ann hugs her and tells her its okay and it’s always nice. Ann usually smells like lilacs and other pretty flowers that are pretty like her and she has soft skin and focus, Leslie.
“I’m just trying to move you!” she starts yelling, once Ann slumps against the row of sinks. “Or pull you, or something! Why do you have to be so mean about it?”
“I don’t understand how this is my fault!”
And ugh Ann’s really missing the point, because sometimes things are other people’s faults too. And Leslie just starts flailing her hands, because this is silly, and Ann’s deferring the issue and this isn’t just about Ann, it’s about Leslie too.
“I just meant that you were being stupid and you were acting like a jerk!” Seriously, they need to get to the real problem. But Ann won’t stop talking, her pretty mouth yelling mean things and her stupid hair is all shiny under the light, and her sweater’s slipped a little on one side and she has a very nice clavicle (but duh, all her bones look nice probably) and oh my god Ann shut up.
Before Leslie really knows what she’s doing, she lunges forward with nothing but the intention to make Ann stop yelling. But the plan isn’t fully formed and the first thing that happens is a weird hop-step into her body, and suddenly Ann’s mouth is on hers.
It should be surprising but it really isn’t. It’s not like Leslie’s never thought about kissing Ann before -- she isn’t made of wood. Ann’s so beautiful and she has full, soft lips and they’re so close all the time and Leslie just loves her so much even though she’s supposed to hate her right now and really, what’s surprising is that this hasn’t already happened.
At any rate, it’s doing a good job of shutting Ann up. Leslie’s weaved a hand into Ann’s hair and feels Ann desperately cling to her wrists, squealing out a weird little noise that Leslie feels deep inside her stomach. And suddenly this kiss moves from a quieting device to an actual thing, and Ann’s lips butterfly against her own and Leslie can’t tell if the alcohol taste is on Ann’s tongue or her own.
As far as her thoughts about kissing Ann before, this is actually kind of awesome. And they’re both still mad, pushing and giving all they’ve got, and Leslie finds herself forcefully backing Ann against the sink. And she tears her mouth from Ann’s, kisses a trail up her cheek just like she thought about doing that one time she watched Ann put on blush, and leans into her ear.
“I win.”
And then Ann’s pushing roughly at her shoulders until there’s a good foot of space between them. The feeling of victory is quickly lost by the look of betrayal on Ann’s face, as if Leslie had just slapped her. And instead of anger, Leslie feels different.
“Ann--”
“Maybe we shouldn’t work together,” Ann mumbles, making a beeline for the door.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Leslie agrees, though she isn’t sure why.
---
So it hurts in the morning. Like, a lot.
Leslie’s had a lot of hangovers, but never anything like this. She’s never felt like her head is being sucked inside a vacuum tube quite this tight before. And all she can remember of the night before is yelling, lots of yelling. And it’s like she’s still hearing it in the mess of her mind, accusations and name-calling and ugh.
She remembers Ben’s stupid sad face, but then thinks of the fire in Ann’s eyes, and a weird moment of quiet sadness she doesn’t remember, and the tone of the morning sets in.
Job interviews. She has to be at work in like, two seconds (two hours really, but that’s hardly any time for a morning). She possibly ruined the best lady friendship in the history of the world, maybe ruined her chances with the first guy she’s really liked in a long time, and she’s probably the worst human being in Pawnee right now.
She goes to work early and falls asleep under her desk because the fluorescent lights are maybe her worst enemy ever right now, and more sleep just sounds so nice. But Ben finds her and at least she’s not hurting alone, and he doesn’t seem like he hates her and she latches onto his side because she’s salvaged one important person at the other end of all of this.
But he’s not Ann. And she weirdly relates to all these mean posters in the hallways, and wonders how she and Jan Cooper could be so awful. And when Ben leans in close to ask if she’s alright, when his voice gets gravely and her heart would usually skip a rapid beat, she just frowns and looks at the table.
They take a break and Leslie thinks about all the horrible things she probably said last night, and take them all back in her mind. She’s awful. She’s the worst friend ever. No matter how mad she might have been, Ann didn’t deserve to be yelled at. That’s not how friends solve problems.
It takes a while from Ben to get back from his elusive trip, and he comes back muttering something about coffee and apologizes for not getting her any. He’s not holding any coffee to begin with.
And then, after a few more interviews, Ann does show up. Her sweater is on backwards (which she can strangely pull off?) and she looks embarrassed and apologetic and how could Leslie have ever been so angry at that face? Ben’s smiling all funny like he did something here, and Leslie realizes where he went on his break.
Well that doesn’t help matters with Cute Face No. 2. Now how to fix Cute Face No. 1? (Ann’s face is always number one, they’ve discussed this before, there was a signed document involved)
“‘Lots of Regret and Shame’ should be the official slogan of Snake Juice,” Ann tries joking, but she stares at the table to avoid Leslie’s eye.
Once they sort out what the candidate and committee want from each other (forgiveness, mainly, and both are thankfully willing and able), Leslie’s feeling nauseous again. She’s more than happy to follow Ann to the bathroom, tossing Ben a folder-tap because wow, he did this for her. He talked to Ann. Her best friend and her... what is Ben, anyway? She’s too busy trying not to throw up right now that she doesn’t want to figure it out. But she’s happy they seem to get along and like each other.
When they get to the bathroom, there’s mostly some awkward stumbling through the door and additional apologies. Leslie can withstand her stomach for her best friend.
“I really am sorry,” Leslie says, tugging on Ann’s sleeve. This seems to startle Ann more than usual, but maybe it’s just the hangover making her sensitive.
“Me too, Les. And Ben, well, he really likes you.”
Leslie can feel the heat on the edge of her cheeks, can feel the small smile taking over her mouth. Of course, that’s when enough is enough and she has to get to that toilet at the soonest possible second.
“Ann, you’re beautiful and I love you but I’m just gonna have to--”
It’s a disgusting five minutes as they both empty their stomachs for the fourth time this morning, and they dissolve into a fit of giggles in adjacent stalls.
“I can’t believe we got that drunk. What is this, college?”
Ann sighs on the other side of the pink wall, clicking her heels against the marble tile.
“Yup,” she agrees. “Drinking instead of studying, making out with your best friend, hungover for the big test the next day.”
Leslie laughs along until she realizes what that middle part was.
“Wait, what?” she squeaks, scrambling to her feet. Oh no, bad idea. She leans back against the door, reaching to the purse hook for support.
“Yeah,” Ann starts slowly, gingerly getting to her feet. “That happened.”
The door of her stall pushes back against her, and she looks at the ground to see Ann’s legs, leaning just on the other side of the thin metal. Leslie’s head is buzzing, and once she can concentrate she wracks her brain, wonders how on earth... it took that long to kiss Ann.
Really.
“Wow,” she chuckles, with a faint picture of pushing Ann against a sink in her mind. “The will-they, won’t-they went on for a while there.” Thankfully Ann laughs, and Leslie feels comfortable enough to open the door between them.
“I’m sorry if that was weird,” she says, scrunching up her nose. Ann looks slightly mussed, but probably no more worse-for-the-wear than Leslie. But beautiful, really. And it seems she’s righted her sweater, and Leslie just wants to tug on the sleeve and make her smile again.
“Drunk people do... things,” Ann says carefully, searching Leslie’s face. Eventually she shrugs, holding out her arms for a hug. “Back to normal?” Leslie gratefully folds herself in.
“Back to normal,” she agrees against Ann’s shoulder, hugging her tight. Despite the mess of the morning, Ann still smells pretty, like perfume, with just an intoxicating hint of sweat. Leslie shudders, and pushes Ann back to arm’s length. “I knew you would be just as good a kisser as you are a nurse, though.”
“Oh, stop it,” Ann says on a laugh, shoving Leslie’s arm. But she decides to play along in a dopey voice. “I knew you’d be as good a kisser as you are a civil servant.”
“Damn straight.”
They smile at each other. It’s, surprisingly, not weird at all. Leslie loves Ann. She has for a few years now, more than maybe anybody else in her life, and it kind of feels good to have released some of that. It has to come out of her somehow, right?
“Coffee?” she asks, perking up.
“Ugh.” Ann returns to her stall.
---
A week later, Ann’s been offered the health department job and Leslie’s being sent on some road trip with Ben, and they’re laughing in Ann’s living room over ridiculous dresses and silly comments.
“I will not be mentioning his penis,” Leslie scolds, throwing a bunched-up blouse at Ann’s head.
“Sorry, sorry!” She fingers the material before looking up at Leslie with a grin. “I just want you to be happy, and you’re happy when you’re with him.”
Leslie sighs. If only it were that easy. And it might be a rough night, trying to keep herself away from Ben and his stupid cute mouth, but she’s got her best friend on speed dial.
“I’m happy when I’m with you, too.” She grabs Ann’s hand and swings it back and forth. “He probably won’t kiss as good as you.”
“Shut up.” But Ann’s blushing and laughing, and Leslie can’t help but lean over and kiss her cheek. She still smells nice, as always.
“Too pretty for your own good,” Leslie asserts, and disappears back into Ann’s closet to look through more clothes.
But she doesn’t miss Ann’s pleased smile on her way out.
author:
shornt
pairing: Ann/Leslie, with some Leslie/Ben in the background
rating: PG13, I'd say? Lots of drunkenness
words: ~3200
notes: This is a very new venture to me, but once Amy Poehler mentioned the nature of some Ann/Leslie outtakes, I couldn't resist. This is kind of like an alternative to The Fight, though it almost fits into canon. Thanks Caitlin for encouraging me.
Things have been a little blurry for a while now, but it doesn’t stop this seething ray of anger. It’s been building for some time, like all day, but Leslie’s been trying to ignore it because what use is it being mad at your very best friend?
But it’s a lot of use when your best friend is mad at you too, and is just being a generally careless jerk who doesn’t care about government or possible collaborations between the health and parks department or best friends who are trying their best to welcome your revolving door of boyfriends only to never see them again after learning their names.
She still can’t believe that after all the prep she put together for Ann, all of the steps Ann had to take to get a job where she could really make change and be important, all the strings Leslie was continuing to try to pull, Ann came here. To dance with one of the grossest men in Pawnee -- and there are a lot of gross men in Pawnee. Like that guy who took Leslie on a moonlight walk once, but ended up being really good at masking drunk and fell face-first into the Ramsett Park toilets when going to the bathroom. In the ladies room.
The Douche may be funny at 5am but he’s still probably grosser than that.
And there’s just been this revolving carousel of complaints circling in Leslie’s mind. The book Ann won’t try to get back for her, the job interview Ann doesn’t seem to want to go to, the hard work that Ann obviously doesn’t appreciate, the jab about Ben (and really, what is Leslie supposed to do about Ben? Make out with his face and get fired? He won’t even dance with her tonight, so), and the fact that Ann is so obviously lying when she says she isn’t mad.
Just, Ann is supposed to be the one who gets this. Who gets Leslie and everything about her. Leslie’s used to hearing that she goes overboard. Of course she hears it, she loves going overboard! That’s how you cover all your bases. But she thought Ann appreciated the help. And if you just let Ann slide, she stands in one place, and lets Andy boss her around or lets Mark decide her future.
Sometimes Ann needs a nudge. And who’s better at nudging than Leslie? Really, it’s just logic.
But right now logic’s losing to the fact that it’s essential that Leslie out-dance Ann. Like, she doesn’t think anything’s ever been as important than this in her life. It’s probably all come down to this and it’s gonna decide her fate, or something.
It’s insanely hot in the Snakehole. Like, disgusting. Leslie’s pretty sure her own hair is about to melt off and then it’s just gonna fuse with her shirt and the ducks will be blonde and how is she supposed to keep dancing when that happens? The ducks are going to have all her hard work on her hair and she’s gonna be bald and then Ben’s going to hate her and Ann’s just going to laugh and she’ll be stuck with Jean Ralphio forever.
Even though he’s currently being a super effective dance partner (because humping was what she was going for and he’s delivering, though it just makes Ann grind on the Douche more, and ugh stop that Ann), it’s not a future she wants.
Wait, why is she dancing again?
There’s a weird swaying moment where she reaches out her hand for balance and isn’t sure who’s shoulder it lands on, and her shoe is just really uncomfortable so she bends down to fix it. But wow, that’s really not a good idea, and now she’s seeing triple.
“Assault!” someone barks, and she realizes the sweater under her palm is Ann’s. She pulls her hand away viciously.
“You’re too pretty to ever assault because who wants to mess up your face?!”
Well, it sounded like an insult in her head.
And it’s true, unfortunately. Leslie would never be able to punch Ann because why would she want to give her a black eye? That would just be unfair to genetics. And she gets a little captivated by Ann’s answering scowl, the perfect crease of her eyebrows and the sweat on her temple, and the way her skin glows really nicely when the strobe lights are yellow.
Ugh she’s just so... pretty.
“And you’re being dumb!” she adds, for effect. That’ll show her.
“Well you’re ridiculous!” Ann spits. No literally, there is spit on Leslie’s arm and oh my god she is going to have to spit back whether that was intentional or not, but Ann stomps off to the bathrooms before she has the chance.
“We’re not done dancing!” Leslie yells, but pushes at Jean Ralphio’s ear so he can just get off her.
“But baby, you’re still mad at her, and I don’t mind standing in!” But Leslie’s too busy to listen to his list of ways he wouldn’t mind her hitting him, because she’s trying to fight through the crowd and ignore Ben’s sad puppy dog face (ugh, he turned her down, whatever) to reach Ann, who’s staring at her with her arms crossed and narrowly misses getting hit by the bathroom door opening.
“Watch it!” she shouts sloppily at the girl walking past, before her eyes turn to shoot daggers at Leslie.
It’s alarming, really, the effect that has. She always told Ann, those eyes could tell novels. Read novels? She does have good eyesight. Hmm. Something like that, anyway. But it’s not the time to stare into Ann’s eyes.
“We were having a perfectly good dance fight!” she yells, because out of all the things that have happened tonight, Ann abandoning the dance floor is at least the most recent.
“You wouldn’t have won it anyway! Jean Ralphio was humping your leg!”
“I meant for that! The Douche is being a total douche, by the way!”
“Well I meant for that!”
It’s hard to fight when Ann’s being all fiery and difficult. Usually Ann tries to reason, calmly dissecting whatever Leslie has to say. But they’ve never fought, and she’s never seen Ann yell like this, and passion’s a nice color on her. It might be angry passion, but there’s something about the twist of Ann’s wrist as she flails her hand angrily to make her point that makes Leslie stop for a moment.
“You deserve better than that.”
“Who are you to decide what I deserve?”
It’s ridiculous, and these crazy girls keep walking in between them as if they’re not trying to have a private conversation here, and Ann keeps saying words like “controlling” and “helping” and “pushing” and since when are these terrible things?
“I don’t even know if I want to work in City Hall! Maybe I don’t! Maybe I think it sucks there, and that raccoons could run Pawnee! How do you feel about that? A raccoon mayor!”
That one hurt. Point, Perkins.
“You’re stupid and you’re a jerk and you’re stupid!” she fights back, completely out of words. This hallway is loud and dark and annoying and filled with nosy girls trying to get in their fight so Leslie turns around to go in the bathroom, because its bright and maybe there will be less people.
Ann follows in a huff and seeing her in the bright lights is a whole different thing. Her makeup’s smudged, her hair sleek with sweat and somehow it’s still a look she can pull off. And Leslie thinks about how much she just wants to hug her, because she usually goes to Ann with these things and Ann hugs her and tells her its okay and it’s always nice. Ann usually smells like lilacs and other pretty flowers that are pretty like her and she has soft skin and focus, Leslie.
“I’m just trying to move you!” she starts yelling, once Ann slumps against the row of sinks. “Or pull you, or something! Why do you have to be so mean about it?”
“I don’t understand how this is my fault!”
And ugh Ann’s really missing the point, because sometimes things are other people’s faults too. And Leslie just starts flailing her hands, because this is silly, and Ann’s deferring the issue and this isn’t just about Ann, it’s about Leslie too.
“I just meant that you were being stupid and you were acting like a jerk!” Seriously, they need to get to the real problem. But Ann won’t stop talking, her pretty mouth yelling mean things and her stupid hair is all shiny under the light, and her sweater’s slipped a little on one side and she has a very nice clavicle (but duh, all her bones look nice probably) and oh my god Ann shut up.
Before Leslie really knows what she’s doing, she lunges forward with nothing but the intention to make Ann stop yelling. But the plan isn’t fully formed and the first thing that happens is a weird hop-step into her body, and suddenly Ann’s mouth is on hers.
It should be surprising but it really isn’t. It’s not like Leslie’s never thought about kissing Ann before -- she isn’t made of wood. Ann’s so beautiful and she has full, soft lips and they’re so close all the time and Leslie just loves her so much even though she’s supposed to hate her right now and really, what’s surprising is that this hasn’t already happened.
At any rate, it’s doing a good job of shutting Ann up. Leslie’s weaved a hand into Ann’s hair and feels Ann desperately cling to her wrists, squealing out a weird little noise that Leslie feels deep inside her stomach. And suddenly this kiss moves from a quieting device to an actual thing, and Ann’s lips butterfly against her own and Leslie can’t tell if the alcohol taste is on Ann’s tongue or her own.
As far as her thoughts about kissing Ann before, this is actually kind of awesome. And they’re both still mad, pushing and giving all they’ve got, and Leslie finds herself forcefully backing Ann against the sink. And she tears her mouth from Ann’s, kisses a trail up her cheek just like she thought about doing that one time she watched Ann put on blush, and leans into her ear.
“I win.”
And then Ann’s pushing roughly at her shoulders until there’s a good foot of space between them. The feeling of victory is quickly lost by the look of betrayal on Ann’s face, as if Leslie had just slapped her. And instead of anger, Leslie feels different.
“Ann--”
“Maybe we shouldn’t work together,” Ann mumbles, making a beeline for the door.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Leslie agrees, though she isn’t sure why.
---
So it hurts in the morning. Like, a lot.
Leslie’s had a lot of hangovers, but never anything like this. She’s never felt like her head is being sucked inside a vacuum tube quite this tight before. And all she can remember of the night before is yelling, lots of yelling. And it’s like she’s still hearing it in the mess of her mind, accusations and name-calling and ugh.
She remembers Ben’s stupid sad face, but then thinks of the fire in Ann’s eyes, and a weird moment of quiet sadness she doesn’t remember, and the tone of the morning sets in.
Job interviews. She has to be at work in like, two seconds (two hours really, but that’s hardly any time for a morning). She possibly ruined the best lady friendship in the history of the world, maybe ruined her chances with the first guy she’s really liked in a long time, and she’s probably the worst human being in Pawnee right now.
She goes to work early and falls asleep under her desk because the fluorescent lights are maybe her worst enemy ever right now, and more sleep just sounds so nice. But Ben finds her and at least she’s not hurting alone, and he doesn’t seem like he hates her and she latches onto his side because she’s salvaged one important person at the other end of all of this.
But he’s not Ann. And she weirdly relates to all these mean posters in the hallways, and wonders how she and Jan Cooper could be so awful. And when Ben leans in close to ask if she’s alright, when his voice gets gravely and her heart would usually skip a rapid beat, she just frowns and looks at the table.
They take a break and Leslie thinks about all the horrible things she probably said last night, and take them all back in her mind. She’s awful. She’s the worst friend ever. No matter how mad she might have been, Ann didn’t deserve to be yelled at. That’s not how friends solve problems.
It takes a while from Ben to get back from his elusive trip, and he comes back muttering something about coffee and apologizes for not getting her any. He’s not holding any coffee to begin with.
And then, after a few more interviews, Ann does show up. Her sweater is on backwards (which she can strangely pull off?) and she looks embarrassed and apologetic and how could Leslie have ever been so angry at that face? Ben’s smiling all funny like he did something here, and Leslie realizes where he went on his break.
Well that doesn’t help matters with Cute Face No. 2. Now how to fix Cute Face No. 1? (Ann’s face is always number one, they’ve discussed this before, there was a signed document involved)
“‘Lots of Regret and Shame’ should be the official slogan of Snake Juice,” Ann tries joking, but she stares at the table to avoid Leslie’s eye.
Once they sort out what the candidate and committee want from each other (forgiveness, mainly, and both are thankfully willing and able), Leslie’s feeling nauseous again. She’s more than happy to follow Ann to the bathroom, tossing Ben a folder-tap because wow, he did this for her. He talked to Ann. Her best friend and her... what is Ben, anyway? She’s too busy trying not to throw up right now that she doesn’t want to figure it out. But she’s happy they seem to get along and like each other.
When they get to the bathroom, there’s mostly some awkward stumbling through the door and additional apologies. Leslie can withstand her stomach for her best friend.
“I really am sorry,” Leslie says, tugging on Ann’s sleeve. This seems to startle Ann more than usual, but maybe it’s just the hangover making her sensitive.
“Me too, Les. And Ben, well, he really likes you.”
Leslie can feel the heat on the edge of her cheeks, can feel the small smile taking over her mouth. Of course, that’s when enough is enough and she has to get to that toilet at the soonest possible second.
“Ann, you’re beautiful and I love you but I’m just gonna have to--”
It’s a disgusting five minutes as they both empty their stomachs for the fourth time this morning, and they dissolve into a fit of giggles in adjacent stalls.
“I can’t believe we got that drunk. What is this, college?”
Ann sighs on the other side of the pink wall, clicking her heels against the marble tile.
“Yup,” she agrees. “Drinking instead of studying, making out with your best friend, hungover for the big test the next day.”
Leslie laughs along until she realizes what that middle part was.
“Wait, what?” she squeaks, scrambling to her feet. Oh no, bad idea. She leans back against the door, reaching to the purse hook for support.
“Yeah,” Ann starts slowly, gingerly getting to her feet. “That happened.”
The door of her stall pushes back against her, and she looks at the ground to see Ann’s legs, leaning just on the other side of the thin metal. Leslie’s head is buzzing, and once she can concentrate she wracks her brain, wonders how on earth... it took that long to kiss Ann.
Really.
“Wow,” she chuckles, with a faint picture of pushing Ann against a sink in her mind. “The will-they, won’t-they went on for a while there.” Thankfully Ann laughs, and Leslie feels comfortable enough to open the door between them.
“I’m sorry if that was weird,” she says, scrunching up her nose. Ann looks slightly mussed, but probably no more worse-for-the-wear than Leslie. But beautiful, really. And it seems she’s righted her sweater, and Leslie just wants to tug on the sleeve and make her smile again.
“Drunk people do... things,” Ann says carefully, searching Leslie’s face. Eventually she shrugs, holding out her arms for a hug. “Back to normal?” Leslie gratefully folds herself in.
“Back to normal,” she agrees against Ann’s shoulder, hugging her tight. Despite the mess of the morning, Ann still smells pretty, like perfume, with just an intoxicating hint of sweat. Leslie shudders, and pushes Ann back to arm’s length. “I knew you would be just as good a kisser as you are a nurse, though.”
“Oh, stop it,” Ann says on a laugh, shoving Leslie’s arm. But she decides to play along in a dopey voice. “I knew you’d be as good a kisser as you are a civil servant.”
“Damn straight.”
They smile at each other. It’s, surprisingly, not weird at all. Leslie loves Ann. She has for a few years now, more than maybe anybody else in her life, and it kind of feels good to have released some of that. It has to come out of her somehow, right?
“Coffee?” she asks, perking up.
“Ugh.” Ann returns to her stall.
---
A week later, Ann’s been offered the health department job and Leslie’s being sent on some road trip with Ben, and they’re laughing in Ann’s living room over ridiculous dresses and silly comments.
“I will not be mentioning his penis,” Leslie scolds, throwing a bunched-up blouse at Ann’s head.
“Sorry, sorry!” She fingers the material before looking up at Leslie with a grin. “I just want you to be happy, and you’re happy when you’re with him.”
Leslie sighs. If only it were that easy. And it might be a rough night, trying to keep herself away from Ben and his stupid cute mouth, but she’s got her best friend on speed dial.
“I’m happy when I’m with you, too.” She grabs Ann’s hand and swings it back and forth. “He probably won’t kiss as good as you.”
“Shut up.” But Ann’s blushing and laughing, and Leslie can’t help but lean over and kiss her cheek. She still smells nice, as always.
“Too pretty for your own good,” Leslie asserts, and disappears back into Ann’s closet to look through more clothes.
But she doesn’t miss Ann’s pleased smile on her way out.