fic: three's a crowd 2/5, leslie/ben/ann, pg13
title: Three's a Crowd (2/5)
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben/Ann
rating: This chapter PG13
words: ~4000
notes: I'm gonna guess 4 chapters and then an epilogue of sorts at the end. So five in all? Let's say that. This was like pulling teeth but its the most transitional chapter so I think the ball will get rolling more. If you missed the first chapter, go back for a more thorough explanation of the fic! Usual thanks to Caitlin. I'm going through some rough times right now and I'd really love feedback if you have the time to give it :)
chapter 1
Ben
He wakes with a start in the waiting room chair, his back creaking as his legs shoot up. There’s a few seconds of insane confusion, because this definitely isn’t Leslie’s (wait, their, it’s both of theirs now) bedroom, but once the world comes into focus he remembers. There’s a faint beeping down the hall, which makes his eye twitch.
Plus, Ann’s curled into a ball in the seat next to him. That brings him back.
He’s unsurprised that Leslie’s up, probably off getting breakfast or buying a balloon arrangement or checking in with the doctors or any number of wonderful, helpful things. He just sits back and rubs at his eyes, and sure enough, Leslie’s coming back down the hall with a stuffed animal in hand.
“Leslie, what . . . is that?”
“It’s a Get Well Soon platypus!” she says plainly, with a grin. “I know Ann’s not the one getting better, but I remember she said once that she thought platypuses were interesting, and this thing looks weird, so maybe it’ll make her smile?” She bites her lip in worry. “Has she been sleeping all morning?”
“I think so.”
They both look to Ann, who’s in a really uncomfortable position against the cold plastic arm of the seat, brow furrowed even in her sleep. A doctor races down the hall past them, and Ben catches snippets of words like “compound fracture” and “blood levels.” He flinches.
“Did you ask about her mom?”
“Stable.” She sighs. “Which means not any better.”
Ben gets that awkward third wheel feeling when Leslie settles in against Ann’s arm instead of his own, her fingers pushing Ann’s bangs off her face like he wants to do to hers. And this is ridiculous, really. He shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable, but it’s like, without Leslie at his side, he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands? Is he supposed to be watching Ann, which feels a little creepy, or just staring at the white walls?
Nope. Weird poster of the inside of a knee. His head jerks; he needs out.
It’s Ann, and she’s important to Leslie. He gets it. He just...
“Hey, Les, I think I’m gonna cut out--”
She looks up in concern, an elbow popping up in surprise, which of course stirs Ann. Great, because he wanted a best friend audience for this.
“What do you mean?”
But Ann sits up and yawns, rubbing at her face, which draws Leslie’s attention. And there’s a bit of confusion, a run-down of updates, the presentation of the platypus (Ann’s smile is wide but doesn’t reach her eyes, and Leslie seems so, so desperate to make her laugh), a lot of hugging and hand squeezing. He shuffles awkwardly on his legs.
“Uhh, so...”
Ann and Leslie both look at him, brown eyes questioning and blue eyes nervous.
“Oh, Ben!” Ann exclaims when the silence gets a little weird. “Thanks for staying, but you know, don’t feel bad if you need to go home.”
Leslie bristles next to her, but he catches a hint of understanding in Ann’s eyes. She nearly winks, nodding toward the door. Relief washes over him.
“I think I need to shower,” he explains, mock-smelling his armpit and screwing up his face in horror. It at least stirs a smile out of Leslie. “And I can answer the phone for you, keep things running while you’re with Ann.” He desperately wants to add something more, like cooking dinner for her tonight in their kitchen, but doesn’t want to push it.
“Okay,” she answers wearily, not entirely pleased. Ann lets her go enough that she pushes off the seat and leans up to kiss him goodbye.
He takes one last look at the waiting room, where a baby begins wailing, and shudders. Like many things, hospitals just make him uncomfortable. The overly bright sun on the other side is a welcome relief.
And who’s to say he can’t plan something nice for Leslie tonight? She can’t stay at the hospital forever, even Ann will understand that. She’ll go back in the morning, but they have this evening, which will be their official first together in her house. Their house. (He likes that he has to keep correcting himself.)
He drives him quickly, hopping into the shower (he really was getting a little funky) before speeding back out to the grocery store. His hands hover over spaghetti, chicken, some freshly cut green beans. But this is Leslie, and if he wants a romantic, relaxing night, fighting over the merits of greens isn’t the way to go. He still bypasses the waffles for something a little fancier, gathering ingredients for thick french toast he can coat in powdered sugar and, if he gets away with it, juicy berries.
The grocery store ends up just being the beginning, as he runs around town, thinking of new surprises he could have in store for Leslie tonight. He ends up buying some sweet-smelling massage oil and new matching fluffy bathrobes and it’s nearly dinner time when he realizes he’s been out all day.
He hauls the stuff into the house, sets everything up just so. Closes the shades and dims the lights, sets out an inviting blanket and pillows in the living room, arranges the bathroom in preparation for a bubble bath, gets the oven going with the french toast, stares at his face in the mirror and decides to leave the stubble, for now.
Of course, just of course, that’s when the phone rings.
“Hey!” he answers, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “When do you think you’ll be home? I have some stuff planned--”
“Ben,” she tentatively interrupts, and he’s embarrassed that he doesn’t immediately pick up on the strain in her voice. “Ann’s mom isn’t getting better, it’s kind of getting worse -- I’m gonna stay with her tonight.”
He doesn’t say anything, and hates himself a little for it.
“I mean, you understand, right? I just want to make sure she eats and she needs someone with her and, you know. I want to be there for her.”
“Yeah. Of course.” He can tell how hollow his voice sounds, and he feels like an asshole. Really. This isn’t his call to make, and he really, honestly feels for Ann. But then he looks down at his hands, realizes he’s touching the skillet and pulls back in pain.
“Are you alright?” she yelps at his hiss.
“Yes, it’s fine. Uh. Call me if you need anything?”
“Of course. Thanks for understanding. Love you.”
She hangs up, and Ben looks around him.
Throws the now-burned french toast in the garbage.
Alone and unable to sleep, he’s never noticed just how big and empty her bed is.
---
Leslie
It’s just been a really long day. Leslie’s read the one issue of Time in the waiting room six times over. She’s doodled unicorns and City Council letterhead ideas on all the paper the children in the room would spare her. She’s eaten approximately five cups of jello, three vending machine packs of Oreos, and downed so much coffee that her leg won’t stop jiggling.
Ann flits in and out, usually checking on her mother or in deep conversation with the nurses and doctors. James, Ann’s brother, shows up just after Leslie tries to get Ann to eat lunch, and he doesn’t say much. Leslie supposes he and Ann haven’t been close in a long time, but it’s startling, how he doesn’t offer a hug or kind words. But Ann doesn’t either.
When she stumbles out of the hallway, ashen faced, Leslie is sure to offer extra squeezes to make up for it.
“It’s not better, I think? But she’s not doing well.”
She winces as Ann squeezes her fingers a little too hard.
Leslie knows she isn’t the poster child for healthy eating habits, and she’s spent her own days buried in work as she forgets to eat for hours, but this is Ann. Ann is supposed to be the one who subtly suggests salad and coaxes her into eating a bite, not the one who sways on her feet because the only thing she’s eaten is half a small bag of Lays.
“Hey, why don’t I take you home? I can make us some popcorn, and get some ice cream, and we can curl up on the couch and watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”
Ann still doesn’t look convinced.
“I don’t know, I’m not in the mood, Les--”
“I’m at least coming home with you. And you need to eat.”
Leslie can be persistent, and she gears up for a battle. But Ann’s too broken, too tired, and she’s handing over her keys before Leslie has to pull out the big guns. With a quick phone call to Ben, she gets behind the wheel of Ann’s car, stopping for food before they get home.
And she spreads the Chinese take out all over the living room table like a buffet, includes a bottle of vodka that Ann eyes gratefully. And they’re laughing at a marathon of Degrassi by nightfall, bits of fried rice falling between the cushions as Leslie leans over fast to keep her wine from sloshing onto the couch.
“Canadians are weird!” she declares, and for some reason, Ann toasts her.
She loves Ann so much, so she tells her. And doesn’t let her forget it. And makes sure to keep Ann smiling until they pass out in a heap under the throw blanket, the television flickering until Leslie wakes up at sunrise.
Ann’s face is completely peaceful, and it’s the most relief she’s felt in hours. Good. This is how it should be.
She starts mentally planning an overnight bag she can go home and pack, wondering how long she can stay with Ann, when she remembers home isn’t just her home anymore.
She has yet to experience home with Ben.
And she’s about to reach for her phone, about to hit the speed dial and apologize, to remind him that she loves him too but this is just a thing she has to--
But then Ann’s waking up from a nightmare and Leslie holds her hand, hugs her tightly, starts mentally preparing for another day at the hospital. There are stuffed penguins in the gift shop, right? Penguins tend to make things feel better.
To her surprise though, Ann changes plans.
“I can’t do another day in the hospital. We’ll check in tonight, but... breakfast?”
Beautiful, beautiful Ann. Of course they can go out to breakfast.
She forgets to call Ben.
Breakfast turns into shopping at the Eagleton mall.
“Should I buy this purse or just wait?” Leslie asks, modeling a blue plaid handbag in the window.
Lovely Ann still looks tired, but there’s a light in her eyes, and Leslie’s determined to keep that going.
“Wait for what?”
“The other Burberrys, of course.”
“Is there a difference between the merchandise?”
Leslie doesn’t even dignify that with a response.
(She buys the exact same purse at the third and final Burberrys.)
(Notices it’s plaid.)
(Remembers that she still hasn’t called Ben.)
Shopping because an excursion to the spa, on Ann’s request.
“Ugh, this just feels perfect.”
Of course Ann would look great with her face covered in weird goo as someone massages her feet, but Leslie feels twitchy and uncomfortable and what is supposed to be fun about sitting still?
Ann finally agrees to go back to the hospital that afternoon, after a large lunch at her favorite Mexican place. And Leslie finally finds a quiet spot in the parking lot to call Ben.
“Hello?”
Ah, crap. He already sounds disgruntled. Backtrack, lay it on thick, just--
“Ben! I missed you! I love you! I just--”
“Les, it’s okay.” He chuckles a bit, which puts her at ease. “How’s Ann?”
“I spent all day trying. I think she’s better? We did some girl stuff, she seems a little happier, I don’t know, I guess it just depends.”
“Yeah.”
They sit over the phone in comfortable silence, but Leslie finds herself wishing she could curl into his arms and kiss that spot at the edge of his jaw, right beneath his ear.
“I’m sorry we haven’t really gotten a night together yet.”
“I get it,” he assures her, though he doesn’t sound entirely convincing. “I mean, it’s Ann, and she’s important.”
“Exactly! And it’ll probably just be like, a few days, and I’m gonna stop back tonight to pick some stuff up, so you should pencil in some making-out time around--”
“Wait. A few days?”
“Duh, it’s not like she’s gonna be okay tomorrow if her mom’s still here.”
“Alright.”
His voice sounds thin. And she knows it sucks, and she totally wants to go home to do things with him, and she wants to sleep in her bed with him there, knowing he’s gonna be there every night now. But it’s not like he’s going anywhere, and they can still do that, and whatever, she’s just gonna have to rock his world when she goes to pack some more pairs of underwear.
But when Ann returns to the waiting room, the day’s work is gone, and she’s a puffy-eyed gorgeous mess again. And Leslie knows how to drop everything for her best friends.
He greets her at the door with a kiss, and she’s out before he can remind her about the making-out proposal.
She just knows Ann needs her.
---
Ann
She’s not entirely oblivious.
Well, it does take a while to get there, but when she does, she understands what’s going on.
It’s just mostly a blur? Hospital clipboards mixing with old issues of magazines with cups of jello with blonde hair with an aching hunger pain that won’t go away.
Evelyn doesn’t talk a lot, even when she’s conscious. So at least that hasn’t changed.
Ann never thought about what strange limbo this would be, hovering between wanting to care for her mother and keeping their usual distance between them. And then there’s this weird disappointment, like she expected her mother to somehow transform into a humble, grateful woman with open arms and “I love you” on her lips. But she hasn’t changed to that, not at all, and Ann almost feels like the accused in Evelyn’s steely gaze.
When James shows up, it only feels worse.
Ann and her brother rarely talk. Their correspondence since he’s left has whittled down to monthly emails so sparse that their existence seems only to prove they’re still alive to one another. Seeing him in person is startling, and he looks so different from the last time they saw one another. Older, manlier, hair shorter and eyes somehow greener. He always looks different, though.
His visit feels like a test, a barrage of barked questions demanding answers, as though he expected Ann to sit on the sidelines and not care. She could blame him of the same thing, to be honest, but she doesn’t. They end up sitting in silence on either side of the hospital bed, faking urgent text messages to avoid small talk and awkward glances.
She so desperately wants to go back to the waiting room, to let Leslie’s smile take her away somewhere else, but she feels like she needs to prove family allegiance to a man who abandoned his family years ago. The irony would be hilarious if she could remember how to laugh.
She thinks of her father, how she can see him in James’s face, and that’s just too much. She needs a break.
And when Leslie offers her company for the night, Ann’s hesitant to leave, but it’s far too easy to forget herself when she’s with her. Leslie treats her like she's the top of the world, and she's realizing that it's so opposite from her family that it's no wonder Ann's attached.
It’s way, way too comfortable to let Leslie take the lead.
She’s whisked away to her own home, cocooned between Leslie and her favorite blanket, cared for and loved and it’s so nice. It’s too nice. And, she’s embarrassed to admit, her obliviousness extended until the next morning.
Leslie’s already running around the house with breakfast and plans for the day, but Ann can’t shake the dream she just had. The dream where Leslie was in the hospital bed and Ben was the unfeeling visitor, the idea of losing the people that have become her family being so present and painful. And the guilt that it’s a stronger kick to the gut than her actual situation.
She can’t face the hospital today. She just grabs Leslie’s hand and lets her lead her around.
When Leslie mentions running home to pick up some stuff, Ann remembers. Ben lives there now. He’s just moved in and their relationship is supposed to be at the next level and Leslie hasn’t even gotten to experience it. And Ben’s been alone in their house while Leslie tends to her, and something about that just isn’t entirely fair.
But nothing about anything is exactly fair right now, so Ann keeps her mouth shut. Feigns more obliviousness. Keeps Leslie to herself.
It’s not as if it’s hard. Leslie’s offering to buy her half the mall, grabbing her hand at random times and reminding Ann that she’s a strong, capable woman. Which, to be fair, isn’t too different than usual. But Ann finds herself needing now, dependent on it.
She pretends not to notice when Leslie’s run home is brief. Too brief. She tries not to imagine Ben’s face.
When Leslie told Ann that she wanted to ask Ben to live with her, once the initial freak-out and idea pad, Ann will admit she had the typical best friend worry. Would Leslie living with Ben cut out on her time with her? But if anyone can multi-task, and if anyone is available at any hour of the day for someone they love, it’s Leslie. It was a silly worry. Leslie was intensely caring and Ben wasn’t one to put a foot down, so Ann knew she’d still have Leslie in her life with little change.
This just happens to be the perfect time to take advantage.
It’s hard to think of Ben when they’re out for girl’s day. And it falls out of her mind altogether when she goes through another two hours of hospital duty, deciding to visit on alternate times from James.
It becomes harder to avoid when Leslie ends up staying up all night, staring at her Blackberry with disappointment when she thinks Ann isn’t looking. When she can hear Ben on the other side of the phone the next morning, accidentally eavesdropping from the bathroom as Leslie whispers muted “I love yous” and Ben’s voice strains.
And that afternoon, when Ben meets them for lunch and stays eerily quiet next to Leslie, like he’s afraid to say anything.
And when he leaves them with a lingering kiss on Leslie’s cheek.
And, well. She deserves her best friend’s time right now, right?
Which is what she tells herself continually over the next day, where Leslie has once again glued herself to Ann’s side, from ice cream movie-viewings on the couch to sleeping side-by-side in Ann’s bed. And it’s comforting to feel a person next to you, to know someone’s with you who will hold your hand if you wake up in the middle of the night.
And of course, it helps that Leslie’s already up.
It was another weird dream, the kind where the plot fades but the feeling of urgency lingers. And her heart’s hammering and she feels like she’s run a mile, hands sweaty against the sheets.
And curiously, Leslie’s curled into a ball, far on the other side of the comforter, which may as well be an entire mile right now. And she’s talking softly, probably on her phone, and her voice sounds heavy and sad, and if Ann scoots over just a little, she can hear.
“No, I know, I want to, it’s just--”
Silence at the other end answers. Ann recognizes the tone and doesn’t need to hear the words.
“I don’t know, if Ann needs me, I can’t -- you know I want to, Ben, of course -- wait, what?”
And she’s quiet for a long while; Ben must be explaining something on the other end, but Ann thinks it sounds understanding and she holds her breath for Leslie’s answer.
“Do you think she’d really want to?”
“Want to what?” Ann asks instinctively. She’s never liked being talked about within earshot; tell it to her face, for god’s sake! Though she’s supposed to be asleep, which she remembers as Leslie jerks violently at the sound of her voice.
“Ann! Oh my god, you scared me. Wow, your hair looks really great, have you really been sleeping on it? Oh no, did you have another nightmare? Do you need help? Are you hurt? Ann, tell me if you’re hurt, I swear to god--”
“I’m fine!” she soothes, wondering how she became the calm one. “Just a weird dream, but it’s gone. What are you talking to Ben about?”
“Um.” Leslie’s cheeks get pink. “Ben was wondering, maybe, if you -- I mean, since I haven’t even been able to stay with him, at my -- I mean, our house. And you’re definitely not gonna want to, which is fine! I don’t mind. You need me and I want to be here and this is easy, but just, he suggested-- moving in with us?”
Ann blinks.
“Just temporarily! It’s a bad idea, right? Ben!” Leslie frantically grabs her phone, which had been accidentally chucked to the ground. “I don’t think so, but--”
“No. Leslie.” Ann grabs the phone out of her hands, holding one of Leslie’s wrists in a vice grip. She puts the phone to her ear. “Ben? That sounds great. Leslie loves you. Bye.”
It’s maybe one of the dumber things she’s done at 3am, and it was rushed, but somehow... it feels kind of okay?
“Ann, are you sure? I can call him right back, I--”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
And she has to physically push Leslie against the pillow, forcing her to relax, burrowing in next to her and letting out a deep sigh.
All she knows is that wherever Leslie is, she feels safe. And that’s enough.
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben/Ann
rating: This chapter PG13
words: ~4000
notes: I'm gonna guess 4 chapters and then an epilogue of sorts at the end. So five in all? Let's say that. This was like pulling teeth but its the most transitional chapter so I think the ball will get rolling more. If you missed the first chapter, go back for a more thorough explanation of the fic! Usual thanks to Caitlin. I'm going through some rough times right now and I'd really love feedback if you have the time to give it :)
chapter 1
Ben
He wakes with a start in the waiting room chair, his back creaking as his legs shoot up. There’s a few seconds of insane confusion, because this definitely isn’t Leslie’s (wait, their, it’s both of theirs now) bedroom, but once the world comes into focus he remembers. There’s a faint beeping down the hall, which makes his eye twitch.
Plus, Ann’s curled into a ball in the seat next to him. That brings him back.
He’s unsurprised that Leslie’s up, probably off getting breakfast or buying a balloon arrangement or checking in with the doctors or any number of wonderful, helpful things. He just sits back and rubs at his eyes, and sure enough, Leslie’s coming back down the hall with a stuffed animal in hand.
“Leslie, what . . . is that?”
“It’s a Get Well Soon platypus!” she says plainly, with a grin. “I know Ann’s not the one getting better, but I remember she said once that she thought platypuses were interesting, and this thing looks weird, so maybe it’ll make her smile?” She bites her lip in worry. “Has she been sleeping all morning?”
“I think so.”
They both look to Ann, who’s in a really uncomfortable position against the cold plastic arm of the seat, brow furrowed even in her sleep. A doctor races down the hall past them, and Ben catches snippets of words like “compound fracture” and “blood levels.” He flinches.
“Did you ask about her mom?”
“Stable.” She sighs. “Which means not any better.”
Ben gets that awkward third wheel feeling when Leslie settles in against Ann’s arm instead of his own, her fingers pushing Ann’s bangs off her face like he wants to do to hers. And this is ridiculous, really. He shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable, but it’s like, without Leslie at his side, he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands? Is he supposed to be watching Ann, which feels a little creepy, or just staring at the white walls?
Nope. Weird poster of the inside of a knee. His head jerks; he needs out.
It’s Ann, and she’s important to Leslie. He gets it. He just...
“Hey, Les, I think I’m gonna cut out--”
She looks up in concern, an elbow popping up in surprise, which of course stirs Ann. Great, because he wanted a best friend audience for this.
“What do you mean?”
But Ann sits up and yawns, rubbing at her face, which draws Leslie’s attention. And there’s a bit of confusion, a run-down of updates, the presentation of the platypus (Ann’s smile is wide but doesn’t reach her eyes, and Leslie seems so, so desperate to make her laugh), a lot of hugging and hand squeezing. He shuffles awkwardly on his legs.
“Uhh, so...”
Ann and Leslie both look at him, brown eyes questioning and blue eyes nervous.
“Oh, Ben!” Ann exclaims when the silence gets a little weird. “Thanks for staying, but you know, don’t feel bad if you need to go home.”
Leslie bristles next to her, but he catches a hint of understanding in Ann’s eyes. She nearly winks, nodding toward the door. Relief washes over him.
“I think I need to shower,” he explains, mock-smelling his armpit and screwing up his face in horror. It at least stirs a smile out of Leslie. “And I can answer the phone for you, keep things running while you’re with Ann.” He desperately wants to add something more, like cooking dinner for her tonight in their kitchen, but doesn’t want to push it.
“Okay,” she answers wearily, not entirely pleased. Ann lets her go enough that she pushes off the seat and leans up to kiss him goodbye.
He takes one last look at the waiting room, where a baby begins wailing, and shudders. Like many things, hospitals just make him uncomfortable. The overly bright sun on the other side is a welcome relief.
And who’s to say he can’t plan something nice for Leslie tonight? She can’t stay at the hospital forever, even Ann will understand that. She’ll go back in the morning, but they have this evening, which will be their official first together in her house. Their house. (He likes that he has to keep correcting himself.)
He drives him quickly, hopping into the shower (he really was getting a little funky) before speeding back out to the grocery store. His hands hover over spaghetti, chicken, some freshly cut green beans. But this is Leslie, and if he wants a romantic, relaxing night, fighting over the merits of greens isn’t the way to go. He still bypasses the waffles for something a little fancier, gathering ingredients for thick french toast he can coat in powdered sugar and, if he gets away with it, juicy berries.
The grocery store ends up just being the beginning, as he runs around town, thinking of new surprises he could have in store for Leslie tonight. He ends up buying some sweet-smelling massage oil and new matching fluffy bathrobes and it’s nearly dinner time when he realizes he’s been out all day.
He hauls the stuff into the house, sets everything up just so. Closes the shades and dims the lights, sets out an inviting blanket and pillows in the living room, arranges the bathroom in preparation for a bubble bath, gets the oven going with the french toast, stares at his face in the mirror and decides to leave the stubble, for now.
Of course, just of course, that’s when the phone rings.
“Hey!” he answers, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “When do you think you’ll be home? I have some stuff planned--”
“Ben,” she tentatively interrupts, and he’s embarrassed that he doesn’t immediately pick up on the strain in her voice. “Ann’s mom isn’t getting better, it’s kind of getting worse -- I’m gonna stay with her tonight.”
He doesn’t say anything, and hates himself a little for it.
“I mean, you understand, right? I just want to make sure she eats and she needs someone with her and, you know. I want to be there for her.”
“Yeah. Of course.” He can tell how hollow his voice sounds, and he feels like an asshole. Really. This isn’t his call to make, and he really, honestly feels for Ann. But then he looks down at his hands, realizes he’s touching the skillet and pulls back in pain.
“Are you alright?” she yelps at his hiss.
“Yes, it’s fine. Uh. Call me if you need anything?”
“Of course. Thanks for understanding. Love you.”
She hangs up, and Ben looks around him.
Throws the now-burned french toast in the garbage.
Alone and unable to sleep, he’s never noticed just how big and empty her bed is.
---
Leslie
It’s just been a really long day. Leslie’s read the one issue of Time in the waiting room six times over. She’s doodled unicorns and City Council letterhead ideas on all the paper the children in the room would spare her. She’s eaten approximately five cups of jello, three vending machine packs of Oreos, and downed so much coffee that her leg won’t stop jiggling.
Ann flits in and out, usually checking on her mother or in deep conversation with the nurses and doctors. James, Ann’s brother, shows up just after Leslie tries to get Ann to eat lunch, and he doesn’t say much. Leslie supposes he and Ann haven’t been close in a long time, but it’s startling, how he doesn’t offer a hug or kind words. But Ann doesn’t either.
When she stumbles out of the hallway, ashen faced, Leslie is sure to offer extra squeezes to make up for it.
“It’s not better, I think? But she’s not doing well.”
She winces as Ann squeezes her fingers a little too hard.
Leslie knows she isn’t the poster child for healthy eating habits, and she’s spent her own days buried in work as she forgets to eat for hours, but this is Ann. Ann is supposed to be the one who subtly suggests salad and coaxes her into eating a bite, not the one who sways on her feet because the only thing she’s eaten is half a small bag of Lays.
“Hey, why don’t I take you home? I can make us some popcorn, and get some ice cream, and we can curl up on the couch and watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”
Ann still doesn’t look convinced.
“I don’t know, I’m not in the mood, Les--”
“I’m at least coming home with you. And you need to eat.”
Leslie can be persistent, and she gears up for a battle. But Ann’s too broken, too tired, and she’s handing over her keys before Leslie has to pull out the big guns. With a quick phone call to Ben, she gets behind the wheel of Ann’s car, stopping for food before they get home.
And she spreads the Chinese take out all over the living room table like a buffet, includes a bottle of vodka that Ann eyes gratefully. And they’re laughing at a marathon of Degrassi by nightfall, bits of fried rice falling between the cushions as Leslie leans over fast to keep her wine from sloshing onto the couch.
“Canadians are weird!” she declares, and for some reason, Ann toasts her.
She loves Ann so much, so she tells her. And doesn’t let her forget it. And makes sure to keep Ann smiling until they pass out in a heap under the throw blanket, the television flickering until Leslie wakes up at sunrise.
Ann’s face is completely peaceful, and it’s the most relief she’s felt in hours. Good. This is how it should be.
She starts mentally planning an overnight bag she can go home and pack, wondering how long she can stay with Ann, when she remembers home isn’t just her home anymore.
She has yet to experience home with Ben.
And she’s about to reach for her phone, about to hit the speed dial and apologize, to remind him that she loves him too but this is just a thing she has to--
But then Ann’s waking up from a nightmare and Leslie holds her hand, hugs her tightly, starts mentally preparing for another day at the hospital. There are stuffed penguins in the gift shop, right? Penguins tend to make things feel better.
To her surprise though, Ann changes plans.
“I can’t do another day in the hospital. We’ll check in tonight, but... breakfast?”
Beautiful, beautiful Ann. Of course they can go out to breakfast.
She forgets to call Ben.
Breakfast turns into shopping at the Eagleton mall.
“Should I buy this purse or just wait?” Leslie asks, modeling a blue plaid handbag in the window.
Lovely Ann still looks tired, but there’s a light in her eyes, and Leslie’s determined to keep that going.
“Wait for what?”
“The other Burberrys, of course.”
“Is there a difference between the merchandise?”
Leslie doesn’t even dignify that with a response.
(She buys the exact same purse at the third and final Burberrys.)
(Notices it’s plaid.)
(Remembers that she still hasn’t called Ben.)
Shopping because an excursion to the spa, on Ann’s request.
“Ugh, this just feels perfect.”
Of course Ann would look great with her face covered in weird goo as someone massages her feet, but Leslie feels twitchy and uncomfortable and what is supposed to be fun about sitting still?
Ann finally agrees to go back to the hospital that afternoon, after a large lunch at her favorite Mexican place. And Leslie finally finds a quiet spot in the parking lot to call Ben.
“Hello?”
Ah, crap. He already sounds disgruntled. Backtrack, lay it on thick, just--
“Ben! I missed you! I love you! I just--”
“Les, it’s okay.” He chuckles a bit, which puts her at ease. “How’s Ann?”
“I spent all day trying. I think she’s better? We did some girl stuff, she seems a little happier, I don’t know, I guess it just depends.”
“Yeah.”
They sit over the phone in comfortable silence, but Leslie finds herself wishing she could curl into his arms and kiss that spot at the edge of his jaw, right beneath his ear.
“I’m sorry we haven’t really gotten a night together yet.”
“I get it,” he assures her, though he doesn’t sound entirely convincing. “I mean, it’s Ann, and she’s important.”
“Exactly! And it’ll probably just be like, a few days, and I’m gonna stop back tonight to pick some stuff up, so you should pencil in some making-out time around--”
“Wait. A few days?”
“Duh, it’s not like she’s gonna be okay tomorrow if her mom’s still here.”
“Alright.”
His voice sounds thin. And she knows it sucks, and she totally wants to go home to do things with him, and she wants to sleep in her bed with him there, knowing he’s gonna be there every night now. But it’s not like he’s going anywhere, and they can still do that, and whatever, she’s just gonna have to rock his world when she goes to pack some more pairs of underwear.
But when Ann returns to the waiting room, the day’s work is gone, and she’s a puffy-eyed gorgeous mess again. And Leslie knows how to drop everything for her best friends.
He greets her at the door with a kiss, and she’s out before he can remind her about the making-out proposal.
She just knows Ann needs her.
---
Ann
She’s not entirely oblivious.
Well, it does take a while to get there, but when she does, she understands what’s going on.
It’s just mostly a blur? Hospital clipboards mixing with old issues of magazines with cups of jello with blonde hair with an aching hunger pain that won’t go away.
Evelyn doesn’t talk a lot, even when she’s conscious. So at least that hasn’t changed.
Ann never thought about what strange limbo this would be, hovering between wanting to care for her mother and keeping their usual distance between them. And then there’s this weird disappointment, like she expected her mother to somehow transform into a humble, grateful woman with open arms and “I love you” on her lips. But she hasn’t changed to that, not at all, and Ann almost feels like the accused in Evelyn’s steely gaze.
When James shows up, it only feels worse.
Ann and her brother rarely talk. Their correspondence since he’s left has whittled down to monthly emails so sparse that their existence seems only to prove they’re still alive to one another. Seeing him in person is startling, and he looks so different from the last time they saw one another. Older, manlier, hair shorter and eyes somehow greener. He always looks different, though.
His visit feels like a test, a barrage of barked questions demanding answers, as though he expected Ann to sit on the sidelines and not care. She could blame him of the same thing, to be honest, but she doesn’t. They end up sitting in silence on either side of the hospital bed, faking urgent text messages to avoid small talk and awkward glances.
She so desperately wants to go back to the waiting room, to let Leslie’s smile take her away somewhere else, but she feels like she needs to prove family allegiance to a man who abandoned his family years ago. The irony would be hilarious if she could remember how to laugh.
She thinks of her father, how she can see him in James’s face, and that’s just too much. She needs a break.
And when Leslie offers her company for the night, Ann’s hesitant to leave, but it’s far too easy to forget herself when she’s with her. Leslie treats her like she's the top of the world, and she's realizing that it's so opposite from her family that it's no wonder Ann's attached.
It’s way, way too comfortable to let Leslie take the lead.
She’s whisked away to her own home, cocooned between Leslie and her favorite blanket, cared for and loved and it’s so nice. It’s too nice. And, she’s embarrassed to admit, her obliviousness extended until the next morning.
Leslie’s already running around the house with breakfast and plans for the day, but Ann can’t shake the dream she just had. The dream where Leslie was in the hospital bed and Ben was the unfeeling visitor, the idea of losing the people that have become her family being so present and painful. And the guilt that it’s a stronger kick to the gut than her actual situation.
She can’t face the hospital today. She just grabs Leslie’s hand and lets her lead her around.
When Leslie mentions running home to pick up some stuff, Ann remembers. Ben lives there now. He’s just moved in and their relationship is supposed to be at the next level and Leslie hasn’t even gotten to experience it. And Ben’s been alone in their house while Leslie tends to her, and something about that just isn’t entirely fair.
But nothing about anything is exactly fair right now, so Ann keeps her mouth shut. Feigns more obliviousness. Keeps Leslie to herself.
It’s not as if it’s hard. Leslie’s offering to buy her half the mall, grabbing her hand at random times and reminding Ann that she’s a strong, capable woman. Which, to be fair, isn’t too different than usual. But Ann finds herself needing now, dependent on it.
She pretends not to notice when Leslie’s run home is brief. Too brief. She tries not to imagine Ben’s face.
When Leslie told Ann that she wanted to ask Ben to live with her, once the initial freak-out and idea pad, Ann will admit she had the typical best friend worry. Would Leslie living with Ben cut out on her time with her? But if anyone can multi-task, and if anyone is available at any hour of the day for someone they love, it’s Leslie. It was a silly worry. Leslie was intensely caring and Ben wasn’t one to put a foot down, so Ann knew she’d still have Leslie in her life with little change.
This just happens to be the perfect time to take advantage.
It’s hard to think of Ben when they’re out for girl’s day. And it falls out of her mind altogether when she goes through another two hours of hospital duty, deciding to visit on alternate times from James.
It becomes harder to avoid when Leslie ends up staying up all night, staring at her Blackberry with disappointment when she thinks Ann isn’t looking. When she can hear Ben on the other side of the phone the next morning, accidentally eavesdropping from the bathroom as Leslie whispers muted “I love yous” and Ben’s voice strains.
And that afternoon, when Ben meets them for lunch and stays eerily quiet next to Leslie, like he’s afraid to say anything.
And when he leaves them with a lingering kiss on Leslie’s cheek.
And, well. She deserves her best friend’s time right now, right?
Which is what she tells herself continually over the next day, where Leslie has once again glued herself to Ann’s side, from ice cream movie-viewings on the couch to sleeping side-by-side in Ann’s bed. And it’s comforting to feel a person next to you, to know someone’s with you who will hold your hand if you wake up in the middle of the night.
And of course, it helps that Leslie’s already up.
It was another weird dream, the kind where the plot fades but the feeling of urgency lingers. And her heart’s hammering and she feels like she’s run a mile, hands sweaty against the sheets.
And curiously, Leslie’s curled into a ball, far on the other side of the comforter, which may as well be an entire mile right now. And she’s talking softly, probably on her phone, and her voice sounds heavy and sad, and if Ann scoots over just a little, she can hear.
“No, I know, I want to, it’s just--”
Silence at the other end answers. Ann recognizes the tone and doesn’t need to hear the words.
“I don’t know, if Ann needs me, I can’t -- you know I want to, Ben, of course -- wait, what?”
And she’s quiet for a long while; Ben must be explaining something on the other end, but Ann thinks it sounds understanding and she holds her breath for Leslie’s answer.
“Do you think she’d really want to?”
“Want to what?” Ann asks instinctively. She’s never liked being talked about within earshot; tell it to her face, for god’s sake! Though she’s supposed to be asleep, which she remembers as Leslie jerks violently at the sound of her voice.
“Ann! Oh my god, you scared me. Wow, your hair looks really great, have you really been sleeping on it? Oh no, did you have another nightmare? Do you need help? Are you hurt? Ann, tell me if you’re hurt, I swear to god--”
“I’m fine!” she soothes, wondering how she became the calm one. “Just a weird dream, but it’s gone. What are you talking to Ben about?”
“Um.” Leslie’s cheeks get pink. “Ben was wondering, maybe, if you -- I mean, since I haven’t even been able to stay with him, at my -- I mean, our house. And you’re definitely not gonna want to, which is fine! I don’t mind. You need me and I want to be here and this is easy, but just, he suggested-- moving in with us?”
Ann blinks.
“Just temporarily! It’s a bad idea, right? Ben!” Leslie frantically grabs her phone, which had been accidentally chucked to the ground. “I don’t think so, but--”
“No. Leslie.” Ann grabs the phone out of her hands, holding one of Leslie’s wrists in a vice grip. She puts the phone to her ear. “Ben? That sounds great. Leslie loves you. Bye.”
It’s maybe one of the dumber things she’s done at 3am, and it was rushed, but somehow... it feels kind of okay?
“Ann, are you sure? I can call him right back, I--”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
And she has to physically push Leslie against the pillow, forcing her to relax, burrowing in next to her and letting out a deep sigh.
All she knows is that wherever Leslie is, she feels safe. And that’s enough.