fic: visiting santa claus & snowed in, leslie/ben, g/pg
title: Visiting Santa Claus
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: G
words: ~500
notes: Advent fic for rikyl!! Leslie and Ben visit the most festive town in Indiana. My apologies for it not being longer, if only Holiday World were open in the winter!
“It’s so cold for a road trip,” Ben yawns, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck as he locks the front door behind him. “Cold and early.”
“It’s a traditional Christmas pilgrimage!” Leslie chirps from below her striped hat. She’s already buckled into a toasty warm car, and Ben wonders just how early she got up to surprise him. “When I was a kid, my parents would bring me to drop off my letter to Santa. They’re the only post office in the United States called Santa Claus! They even wrote replies back.”
Ben smiles as he settles into the passenger side, imagining a tiny Leslie hard at work on her Christmas list.
She thrusts a thermos of peppermint flavored coffee in his hands, and off they go.
He can feel himself gradually wake as she lists the many things she did as a kid that she wants to share with him this year. “The Candy Castle, Ben! I can knock out so many Christmas presents there! And we have to look through the museum, and head down to the stable to see the horses, and of course we have to stop by Holiday World.”
“Are there even rides for adults there?” he asks, but he really hasn’t wiped the grin off his face since they pulled out of the driveway.
“Oh, they close for the winter. I just like to look.” She turns to him with wide, excited eyes. “We should go back over the summer! They have an entire section just for the Fourth of July. Theodore Roosevelt bumper cars!”
He doesn’t think he’d mind.
***
As soon as they arrive, Ben can tell; this is a Thing. Something they’ll do every year, somewhere they can come once they’re a married couple and every year after. He can tell because Leslie can’t stop recalling memories, can’t stop remaking them with him.
She starts with buying a candy cane.
(Or, well, a pack of fifty.)
“We can put some up in the Parks Department, and I can hang some in my office, and we can run some over to our neighbors just in case they didn’t like my honking at you this morning, and then there’s Ann, and Ron, and everyone else gets at least one, Andy can eat about five, April will pretend not to want one and then steal three--”
He’s tight-lipped about the fact that he saw candy canes on sale at the Walgreens down the street from their house.
Leslie hangs one on his nose, another already hanging from her mouth, half-devoured.
***
And it’s astonishing, the eventual sugar crash and its fast hold; she hangs heavily on his arm as they shuffle to the post office to take a look.
“I wish I still had something to mail,” she says wistfully, looking around at the children with their parents, mailing their letters to Santa. And Ben feels warm thinking, maybe someday, they’ll have their own tiny, sleepy sugar fiend, sending off a list to the big man. He threads his fingers through hers and squeezes.
“Maybe in a few years.”
She smiles back.
***
He drives home to the sound of her loudly singing carols, enthusiastic again as her second wind (and tenth candy cane) hit her.
title: Snowed In
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: PG
words: ~750
notes: And advent fic for sashanaa!! She wanted Ben and Leslie in blizzard.
Leslie loves snow. Loves it. Loves the way it makes everything look cleaner, loves bonding with neighbors while out shoveling the driveway, loves sticking her tongue out to catch the flakes, loves making snowmen and throwing snowballs and making snow angels and almost everything about it.
Blizzards, however, are another beast.
“I’m bored,” she whines, staring out the window wistfully. “I can’t believe they won’t let me come into work.”
Ben’s been hard at work in the kitchen, taking the day in to cook up a large breakfast for everyone (and it was supposed to be breakfast in bed, but Leslie, as usual, woke with the sun). The bacon’s sizzling and he’s scrambling the eggs, but she can feel his usual perplexed, one-eyebrow-in-the-air gaze on the back of her head.
“Leslie Knope is bored?” he asks incredulously, but she hears the smile in his voice.
“I don’t like being cooped up.” She pulls his hoodie around her tighter (though it can be considered her hoodie now, as she’s basically commandeered it since he left it at her old place half a year ago, and it’s unsurprisingly snug enough to fit) and shifts on her chair. “What if we went outside and made snow forts?”
“What if we stayed inside in the heat, buried in pancakes?” he counters, sliding a few more flapjacks on the plate. It’s a hard proposition to argue against.
“You win this one, but the day’s young.” She piles a plate up high and tucks in.
***
It’s a lazy afternoon, the kind she’s starting to get used to. By the time she’s filled to the gills with pancakes and syrup, Ben’s coaxed her out of her pants and under a warm knit afghan on the couch. And now he’s crouched in front of the fireplace in his boxers in a weak attempt to light them a warm fire.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” she teases, though it’s likely true. Leslie’s definitely the expert when it comes to the fireplace.
“I think I’ve got it by now.” And immediately, he winces as a spark hits him square in the chest.
“Step aside, fiance.” Ben’s hoodie is more effective armor against the sparks, and she’s got the makings of a roaring fire in no time. She tackles him onto the couch, bits of ash from her fingertips smearing across his chest.
“S’why I’m marrying you,” he sighs, letting her settle against him under the blanket.
***
They plow their way through the first two Home Alones, all of Leslie’s impressive board game collection, and all their remaining items of clothing twice over. Leslie’s called every person from work to make sure they’re doing okay stuck at home, and she’s called Ann three extra times on top of that. She’s halfway through making a batch of cookies, and . . . it’s three in the afternoon.
“How is it still this early?” she asks, frustrated. Shouldn’t being this relaxed all day mean burning up more time?
“You’re rushing through being lazy,” he notes, hugging her from behind as she mixes up some frosting. “Stop looking at the clocks. Or else I’ll unplug them all.”
She bumps back to hip-check him, which leads to some kissing, which leads to some less than sanitary kitchen activities.
Maybe this batch of cookies doesn’t leave the house.
***
“I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything today,” she whines once the sun starts to set and they’re waiting for their chinese delivery. She can see all her binders piled up on both desks in both offices back at work, all the things she needs to get through and all the people she has to call.
“Thanks,” Ben deadpans on the end of a yawn.
“No no no.” She turns over from their spot on the couch, which now sports a sunken Ben-and-Leslie shaped dent in the cushions. She presses her lips against his briefly. “I don’t mean that.”
“I know. But Leslie, you won five games of Sorry and made three batches of cookies.” He leans in closer. His hand slides down her stomach as he whispers, “And finished other things more than once.”
When his palm wanders below her belly button, she giggles and pushes it away.
“Fair point.”
“A productive day doesn’t have to mean you did a ton of things. It could just mean you spent a nice day with someone you like being with.”
And it’s probably grossly corny, but feels nice in the moment, and maybe they make out a little until the doorbell rings.
She figures sometimes, maybe, lazy days are okay.
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: G
words: ~500
notes: Advent fic for rikyl!! Leslie and Ben visit the most festive town in Indiana. My apologies for it not being longer, if only Holiday World were open in the winter!
“It’s so cold for a road trip,” Ben yawns, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck as he locks the front door behind him. “Cold and early.”
“It’s a traditional Christmas pilgrimage!” Leslie chirps from below her striped hat. She’s already buckled into a toasty warm car, and Ben wonders just how early she got up to surprise him. “When I was a kid, my parents would bring me to drop off my letter to Santa. They’re the only post office in the United States called Santa Claus! They even wrote replies back.”
Ben smiles as he settles into the passenger side, imagining a tiny Leslie hard at work on her Christmas list.
She thrusts a thermos of peppermint flavored coffee in his hands, and off they go.
He can feel himself gradually wake as she lists the many things she did as a kid that she wants to share with him this year. “The Candy Castle, Ben! I can knock out so many Christmas presents there! And we have to look through the museum, and head down to the stable to see the horses, and of course we have to stop by Holiday World.”
“Are there even rides for adults there?” he asks, but he really hasn’t wiped the grin off his face since they pulled out of the driveway.
“Oh, they close for the winter. I just like to look.” She turns to him with wide, excited eyes. “We should go back over the summer! They have an entire section just for the Fourth of July. Theodore Roosevelt bumper cars!”
He doesn’t think he’d mind.
***
As soon as they arrive, Ben can tell; this is a Thing. Something they’ll do every year, somewhere they can come once they’re a married couple and every year after. He can tell because Leslie can’t stop recalling memories, can’t stop remaking them with him.
She starts with buying a candy cane.
(Or, well, a pack of fifty.)
“We can put some up in the Parks Department, and I can hang some in my office, and we can run some over to our neighbors just in case they didn’t like my honking at you this morning, and then there’s Ann, and Ron, and everyone else gets at least one, Andy can eat about five, April will pretend not to want one and then steal three--”
He’s tight-lipped about the fact that he saw candy canes on sale at the Walgreens down the street from their house.
Leslie hangs one on his nose, another already hanging from her mouth, half-devoured.
***
And it’s astonishing, the eventual sugar crash and its fast hold; she hangs heavily on his arm as they shuffle to the post office to take a look.
“I wish I still had something to mail,” she says wistfully, looking around at the children with their parents, mailing their letters to Santa. And Ben feels warm thinking, maybe someday, they’ll have their own tiny, sleepy sugar fiend, sending off a list to the big man. He threads his fingers through hers and squeezes.
“Maybe in a few years.”
She smiles back.
***
He drives home to the sound of her loudly singing carols, enthusiastic again as her second wind (and tenth candy cane) hit her.
title: Snowed In
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: PG
words: ~750
notes: And advent fic for sashanaa!! She wanted Ben and Leslie in blizzard.
Leslie loves snow. Loves it. Loves the way it makes everything look cleaner, loves bonding with neighbors while out shoveling the driveway, loves sticking her tongue out to catch the flakes, loves making snowmen and throwing snowballs and making snow angels and almost everything about it.
Blizzards, however, are another beast.
“I’m bored,” she whines, staring out the window wistfully. “I can’t believe they won’t let me come into work.”
Ben’s been hard at work in the kitchen, taking the day in to cook up a large breakfast for everyone (and it was supposed to be breakfast in bed, but Leslie, as usual, woke with the sun). The bacon’s sizzling and he’s scrambling the eggs, but she can feel his usual perplexed, one-eyebrow-in-the-air gaze on the back of her head.
“Leslie Knope is bored?” he asks incredulously, but she hears the smile in his voice.
“I don’t like being cooped up.” She pulls his hoodie around her tighter (though it can be considered her hoodie now, as she’s basically commandeered it since he left it at her old place half a year ago, and it’s unsurprisingly snug enough to fit) and shifts on her chair. “What if we went outside and made snow forts?”
“What if we stayed inside in the heat, buried in pancakes?” he counters, sliding a few more flapjacks on the plate. It’s a hard proposition to argue against.
“You win this one, but the day’s young.” She piles a plate up high and tucks in.
***
It’s a lazy afternoon, the kind she’s starting to get used to. By the time she’s filled to the gills with pancakes and syrup, Ben’s coaxed her out of her pants and under a warm knit afghan on the couch. And now he’s crouched in front of the fireplace in his boxers in a weak attempt to light them a warm fire.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” she teases, though it’s likely true. Leslie’s definitely the expert when it comes to the fireplace.
“I think I’ve got it by now.” And immediately, he winces as a spark hits him square in the chest.
“Step aside, fiance.” Ben’s hoodie is more effective armor against the sparks, and she’s got the makings of a roaring fire in no time. She tackles him onto the couch, bits of ash from her fingertips smearing across his chest.
“S’why I’m marrying you,” he sighs, letting her settle against him under the blanket.
***
They plow their way through the first two Home Alones, all of Leslie’s impressive board game collection, and all their remaining items of clothing twice over. Leslie’s called every person from work to make sure they’re doing okay stuck at home, and she’s called Ann three extra times on top of that. She’s halfway through making a batch of cookies, and . . . it’s three in the afternoon.
“How is it still this early?” she asks, frustrated. Shouldn’t being this relaxed all day mean burning up more time?
“You’re rushing through being lazy,” he notes, hugging her from behind as she mixes up some frosting. “Stop looking at the clocks. Or else I’ll unplug them all.”
She bumps back to hip-check him, which leads to some kissing, which leads to some less than sanitary kitchen activities.
Maybe this batch of cookies doesn’t leave the house.
***
“I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything today,” she whines once the sun starts to set and they’re waiting for their chinese delivery. She can see all her binders piled up on both desks in both offices back at work, all the things she needs to get through and all the people she has to call.
“Thanks,” Ben deadpans on the end of a yawn.
“No no no.” She turns over from their spot on the couch, which now sports a sunken Ben-and-Leslie shaped dent in the cushions. She presses her lips against his briefly. “I don’t mean that.”
“I know. But Leslie, you won five games of Sorry and made three batches of cookies.” He leans in closer. His hand slides down her stomach as he whispers, “And finished other things more than once.”
When his palm wanders below her belly button, she giggles and pushes it away.
“Fair point.”
“A productive day doesn’t have to mean you did a ton of things. It could just mean you spent a nice day with someone you like being with.”
And it’s probably grossly corny, but feels nice in the moment, and maybe they make out a little until the doorbell rings.
She figures sometimes, maybe, lazy days are okay.