fic: we wish you a merry snakehole & adorning, pg/g
title: We Wish You a Merry Snakehole
pairing: Leslie/Ben, but mostly ensemble
rating: PG
words: ~1000
notes: Advent fic for feeeelings, who wanted Christmas ensemble times at the Snakehole. I definitely started this right after the Christmas episode, and have no idea why I had a dry spell when I had part of this written for so long. But I am back and trying to fill stuff again! And I like excuses for ensemble drunk times!
“I’m sorry I missed your dinner this year, Jerry,” Leslie announces when she walks into the office. Her back still aches a little bit from being cramped in Tammy’s trunk over the weekend, no matter how many back rubs Ben offers (or she naggingly requests). She carefully makes her way to Jerry’s desk.
“Oh it’s no problem Leslie, it was a big day for Ron! And hey, I got to wear those fabulous socks you got me. We’re even.” He grins happily.
“But I didn’t get to have a Christmas hangout with everyone!” She turns to face everyone else. But of course, Donna barely looks up, Tom’s eyes are glued to his computer, April’s to her phone, and Andy is barely aware that anyone said anything. Ron hits the button so his office doors swing shut.
“I’ve got it! Christmas drinks at the Snakehole. Mandatory event, everyone has to come. Three drink minimum--”
“Leslie, the doctor says I really shouldn’t--”
“See you guys after work!”
She strolls back to her new office.
***
The Snakehole is definitely not the same as Jerry’s party, because the dancing hot blondes are wearing decidedly less clothing (which worries Leslie, because it’s snowing outside, and what about their blood circulation?) and the eggnog is more than spiked. But that’s almost definitely why everyone’s overjoyed, hitting the dance floor and singing loudly with some truly terrible modern remakes of old Christmas carols.
“I can’t hear anything,” Ben yells before taking a drag of his Miller Lite, squinting in Leslie’s direction. Their stuff is spread all over one booth, everyone’s coats and drinks and Santa hats she made them wear. But since the mandatory full staff photo has been taken, the festive garb has been traded in for things easier to dance in.
“All I said was I still think April looked cute dressed as an elf,” she shouts back, moping over the abandoned hat with attached fabric ears that she sewed herself. Either way, she knows April will keep it, but still. The night is young and there were so many pictures left to take! She points her camera out at the dance floor, looking for familiar faces.
Donna’s having a ball, a drink in each hand as she dances with at least three of the men around her. She still manages to high five Tom as they cross paths, and her eyes shoot daggers at a terrified Jean-Ralphio.
The duo is, of course, flouncing around with their usual swagger, both adorned in fedoras complete with mistletoe hanging off the brim. It doesn’t seem to be going well, as a girl pushes Tom right in the face when he gets too close.
“Come on, baby, it’s tradition!” Jean-Ralphio tries to no avail.
Ron sits silently at the other end of the booth, slowly nursing his glass of scotch, scowling as Ann attempts to tell a story. Poor, sweet little red nosed reindeer. Leslie snaps a picture before grabbing Ann’s hand to dance, dragging her away just as Jerry responds positively to whatever tale she had been spinning. She pats Ben on the head as they make their way to the dance floor.
“Christmas!” Leslie shouts for no reason, and she might not be drunk yet but she definitely feels warm. The dance floor is a blur of red and green when suddenly a shriek is heard and April darts between the clubbers, dressed in all black.
“You’ll never get me!” she shouts in a spectacularly awful French (maybe German?) accent, and Andy isn’t far behind, accidentally tripping a couple while in hot pursuit.
“Honey, it’s too crowded, it’s so hard to play spies in here!” He gets serious, looking at nothing in particular. “The perfect place for a crime.” He disappears back into the masses.
Leslie just laughs, turning back to Ann as they dance. It’s a good night; everyone’s happy, everyone loved their Christmas gifts this year, she’s engaged and an elected official and has the best friends in the world, and basically, 2012 kicked ass and it’s not even over yet.
“I’m not drunk enough yet!” Ann gleefully announces, and they make their way back over to the bar for some Christmas themed alcohol.
***
By the time Leslie makes her way back to the booth, she’s decidedly less steady, having to grab Ben’s shoulder as she plops back down next to him.
“It seems you’re lovely fiancee has returned,” Chris says. He must have taken her spot when she got up. “I will leave you lovebirds to it, and speak with my very good friend Ron Swanson.” He scoots down the couch to where Ron hasn’t moved, and Leslie can see his brow further furrow as Chris begins jabbering.
“I like holidays!” she slurs, leaning into Ben for support when things start spinning. He looks at her with open affection, that stupid damn face that makes her feel all giddy inside, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.
“I know you do.”
She sinks into his side, happy to sit back and watch her friends have fun. Jerry’s almost asleep, Ron still locked down by Chris, but everyone else is dancing like there’s no tomorrow, and wow, okay, it’s just getting a little dizzying to watch. She hides her face in his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks, and she feels his fingers run through her hair. And this is it. This is perfect, this is everyone she loves and everything she loves and where is a mistletoe, she wants to kiss her dumb fiance’s face, and wake up with him on Christmas morning and also all the mornings after that, and then she remembered that she can kiss him whenever she wants because she doesn’t need a damn plant to tell her when she’s allowed to make out with--
Thinking is too hard, especially now that she’s reached up and firmly attached her lips to his, burrowing into their little nook in the couch, perfectly happy to share Christmas with her favorite human beings.
Even Jerry.
(Who, of course, comes to say goodbye for the night just as Ben’s hand slides up her thigh.)
(Dammit, Jerry.)
title: Adorning
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: G
words: ~700
notes: And advent fic for americnxidiot!! One of the prompts she gave me was Leslie and Ben shopping for an ornament together. Ornaments were always a big deal in my family, so I sort of took that and ran with it. Hope you like!
“The ornament you get for the year is very important,” Leslie informed Ben, as he stared in wonder (and possibly a bit of horror, but she was letting it slide) at her boxes of ornaments. “Not only should it encapsulate your entire year, but also it should shine favorably on the upcoming one.”
Really though, this is a big deal. Leslie picks out an ornament every year, since her mom started buying them annually for her as a child. It’s tradition, and she has thirty seven favorite ornaments packed away in one of five boxes. The rest are, naturally, categories by breakability, sentiment, color, size, and theme.
“You never got ornaments as a kid?”
“I mean, we had like, one each? They broke the year my mom tried to throw the whole tree at my dad.” His face bends into that sarcastic smirk he gets. “She also went at him with firewood. What great memories.”
It’s always been a bit of a disconnect when it comes to holidays. Ben’s more than happy to go along with her excitement, and she knows he adores her for her passion and he’ll put up with the three-day decorating extravaganza and he’ll get her all the right presents and he’ll wake up early on Christmas Day. He’ll do all of it, and he’ll smile through it, but she knows it’s because of her. She knows he doesn’t love Christmas.
“Remind me to scold your parents for ruining holidays for you,” she jokes.
“Yeah, you can put it on a square for the quilt.” She tosses a roll of garland at him.
***
“This one is from third grade.” She carefully detangles a little George Washington from the box, chipped in some places, with a faded Leslie Age 8 scribble. “We put on a pageant at school and none of the boys could remember their lines, so they let me play George. And I nailed, it, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes, hanging up some generic candy cane ornaments from another box.
“And I was really hoping for lots of apple pie in the new year, so it was a clear choice.” She shrewdly observes the tree before finding perfect placement for hanging, because you can’t just glomp all the ornaments in the front on the same branches. There has to be a balance.
“What about this one?” He pulls out a small shovel, which cites her age as 34.
“The year I filled in the pit. Also for breaking new ground in 2010.”
“Also for hitting impending state auditors in the foot when they disagree with your proposals?”
“I’ve told you a million times that my hand slipped.” She hides her smile behind age 19, which is a graduation cap reading Forward!.
***
It’s over an hour before all the boxes are emptied, and the tree looks perfect, if not slightly lopsided under the weight.
“I may have overdone it with those new crochet snowflakes,” she murmurs. Ben wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss on her temple, as they stand back to admire their work.
“Nah.” His hand rubs up and down her arm, somehow warming and leaving goosebumps at the same time. “Although, right over there...” He points. “You left a blank patch.”
“That’s for this year! We’re getting one together.”
***
It takes three stores (two Hallmarks and a craft store) and almost an entire afternoon before Leslie finds one satisfying enough. All the usual engagement ones are too cliche, too predictable, too flashy.
It’s not until that last store that she finds it. Way back in the corner, just waiting for her. It’s perfect.
“Penguins?” Ben asks, perplexed. “You win city council, and you choose penguins for this year?”
“They’re holding flippers,” she points out. “And penguins mate for life.” She smiles up at him, nudges him with her elbow. “It’s perfect for us.”
“For us, maybe.” He leans down, kissing her lightly. “But what about your year?”
“It was our year.” She gets in line to buy it.
***
Christmas morning, there’s another ornament in her stocking. It bears a simple Knope/Biden, four more years.
“I guess I can have two ornaments this year,” she decides, grinning as she hangs it in the tree.
pairing: Leslie/Ben, but mostly ensemble
rating: PG
words: ~1000
notes: Advent fic for feeeelings, who wanted Christmas ensemble times at the Snakehole. I definitely started this right after the Christmas episode, and have no idea why I had a dry spell when I had part of this written for so long. But I am back and trying to fill stuff again! And I like excuses for ensemble drunk times!
“I’m sorry I missed your dinner this year, Jerry,” Leslie announces when she walks into the office. Her back still aches a little bit from being cramped in Tammy’s trunk over the weekend, no matter how many back rubs Ben offers (or she naggingly requests). She carefully makes her way to Jerry’s desk.
“Oh it’s no problem Leslie, it was a big day for Ron! And hey, I got to wear those fabulous socks you got me. We’re even.” He grins happily.
“But I didn’t get to have a Christmas hangout with everyone!” She turns to face everyone else. But of course, Donna barely looks up, Tom’s eyes are glued to his computer, April’s to her phone, and Andy is barely aware that anyone said anything. Ron hits the button so his office doors swing shut.
“I’ve got it! Christmas drinks at the Snakehole. Mandatory event, everyone has to come. Three drink minimum--”
“Leslie, the doctor says I really shouldn’t--”
“See you guys after work!”
She strolls back to her new office.
***
The Snakehole is definitely not the same as Jerry’s party, because the dancing hot blondes are wearing decidedly less clothing (which worries Leslie, because it’s snowing outside, and what about their blood circulation?) and the eggnog is more than spiked. But that’s almost definitely why everyone’s overjoyed, hitting the dance floor and singing loudly with some truly terrible modern remakes of old Christmas carols.
“I can’t hear anything,” Ben yells before taking a drag of his Miller Lite, squinting in Leslie’s direction. Their stuff is spread all over one booth, everyone’s coats and drinks and Santa hats she made them wear. But since the mandatory full staff photo has been taken, the festive garb has been traded in for things easier to dance in.
“All I said was I still think April looked cute dressed as an elf,” she shouts back, moping over the abandoned hat with attached fabric ears that she sewed herself. Either way, she knows April will keep it, but still. The night is young and there were so many pictures left to take! She points her camera out at the dance floor, looking for familiar faces.
Donna’s having a ball, a drink in each hand as she dances with at least three of the men around her. She still manages to high five Tom as they cross paths, and her eyes shoot daggers at a terrified Jean-Ralphio.
The duo is, of course, flouncing around with their usual swagger, both adorned in fedoras complete with mistletoe hanging off the brim. It doesn’t seem to be going well, as a girl pushes Tom right in the face when he gets too close.
“Come on, baby, it’s tradition!” Jean-Ralphio tries to no avail.
Ron sits silently at the other end of the booth, slowly nursing his glass of scotch, scowling as Ann attempts to tell a story. Poor, sweet little red nosed reindeer. Leslie snaps a picture before grabbing Ann’s hand to dance, dragging her away just as Jerry responds positively to whatever tale she had been spinning. She pats Ben on the head as they make their way to the dance floor.
“Christmas!” Leslie shouts for no reason, and she might not be drunk yet but she definitely feels warm. The dance floor is a blur of red and green when suddenly a shriek is heard and April darts between the clubbers, dressed in all black.
“You’ll never get me!” she shouts in a spectacularly awful French (maybe German?) accent, and Andy isn’t far behind, accidentally tripping a couple while in hot pursuit.
“Honey, it’s too crowded, it’s so hard to play spies in here!” He gets serious, looking at nothing in particular. “The perfect place for a crime.” He disappears back into the masses.
Leslie just laughs, turning back to Ann as they dance. It’s a good night; everyone’s happy, everyone loved their Christmas gifts this year, she’s engaged and an elected official and has the best friends in the world, and basically, 2012 kicked ass and it’s not even over yet.
“I’m not drunk enough yet!” Ann gleefully announces, and they make their way back over to the bar for some Christmas themed alcohol.
***
By the time Leslie makes her way back to the booth, she’s decidedly less steady, having to grab Ben’s shoulder as she plops back down next to him.
“It seems you’re lovely fiancee has returned,” Chris says. He must have taken her spot when she got up. “I will leave you lovebirds to it, and speak with my very good friend Ron Swanson.” He scoots down the couch to where Ron hasn’t moved, and Leslie can see his brow further furrow as Chris begins jabbering.
“I like holidays!” she slurs, leaning into Ben for support when things start spinning. He looks at her with open affection, that stupid damn face that makes her feel all giddy inside, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.
“I know you do.”
She sinks into his side, happy to sit back and watch her friends have fun. Jerry’s almost asleep, Ron still locked down by Chris, but everyone else is dancing like there’s no tomorrow, and wow, okay, it’s just getting a little dizzying to watch. She hides her face in his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks, and she feels his fingers run through her hair. And this is it. This is perfect, this is everyone she loves and everything she loves and where is a mistletoe, she wants to kiss her dumb fiance’s face, and wake up with him on Christmas morning and also all the mornings after that, and then she remembered that she can kiss him whenever she wants because she doesn’t need a damn plant to tell her when she’s allowed to make out with--
Thinking is too hard, especially now that she’s reached up and firmly attached her lips to his, burrowing into their little nook in the couch, perfectly happy to share Christmas with her favorite human beings.
Even Jerry.
(Who, of course, comes to say goodbye for the night just as Ben’s hand slides up her thigh.)
(Dammit, Jerry.)
title: Adorning
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: G
words: ~700
notes: And advent fic for americnxidiot!! One of the prompts she gave me was Leslie and Ben shopping for an ornament together. Ornaments were always a big deal in my family, so I sort of took that and ran with it. Hope you like!
“The ornament you get for the year is very important,” Leslie informed Ben, as he stared in wonder (and possibly a bit of horror, but she was letting it slide) at her boxes of ornaments. “Not only should it encapsulate your entire year, but also it should shine favorably on the upcoming one.”
Really though, this is a big deal. Leslie picks out an ornament every year, since her mom started buying them annually for her as a child. It’s tradition, and she has thirty seven favorite ornaments packed away in one of five boxes. The rest are, naturally, categories by breakability, sentiment, color, size, and theme.
“You never got ornaments as a kid?”
“I mean, we had like, one each? They broke the year my mom tried to throw the whole tree at my dad.” His face bends into that sarcastic smirk he gets. “She also went at him with firewood. What great memories.”
It’s always been a bit of a disconnect when it comes to holidays. Ben’s more than happy to go along with her excitement, and she knows he adores her for her passion and he’ll put up with the three-day decorating extravaganza and he’ll get her all the right presents and he’ll wake up early on Christmas Day. He’ll do all of it, and he’ll smile through it, but she knows it’s because of her. She knows he doesn’t love Christmas.
“Remind me to scold your parents for ruining holidays for you,” she jokes.
“Yeah, you can put it on a square for the quilt.” She tosses a roll of garland at him.
***
“This one is from third grade.” She carefully detangles a little George Washington from the box, chipped in some places, with a faded Leslie Age 8 scribble. “We put on a pageant at school and none of the boys could remember their lines, so they let me play George. And I nailed, it, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes, hanging up some generic candy cane ornaments from another box.
“And I was really hoping for lots of apple pie in the new year, so it was a clear choice.” She shrewdly observes the tree before finding perfect placement for hanging, because you can’t just glomp all the ornaments in the front on the same branches. There has to be a balance.
“What about this one?” He pulls out a small shovel, which cites her age as 34.
“The year I filled in the pit. Also for breaking new ground in 2010.”
“Also for hitting impending state auditors in the foot when they disagree with your proposals?”
“I’ve told you a million times that my hand slipped.” She hides her smile behind age 19, which is a graduation cap reading Forward!.
***
It’s over an hour before all the boxes are emptied, and the tree looks perfect, if not slightly lopsided under the weight.
“I may have overdone it with those new crochet snowflakes,” she murmurs. Ben wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss on her temple, as they stand back to admire their work.
“Nah.” His hand rubs up and down her arm, somehow warming and leaving goosebumps at the same time. “Although, right over there...” He points. “You left a blank patch.”
“That’s for this year! We’re getting one together.”
***
It takes three stores (two Hallmarks and a craft store) and almost an entire afternoon before Leslie finds one satisfying enough. All the usual engagement ones are too cliche, too predictable, too flashy.
It’s not until that last store that she finds it. Way back in the corner, just waiting for her. It’s perfect.
“Penguins?” Ben asks, perplexed. “You win city council, and you choose penguins for this year?”
“They’re holding flippers,” she points out. “And penguins mate for life.” She smiles up at him, nudges him with her elbow. “It’s perfect for us.”
“For us, maybe.” He leans down, kissing her lightly. “But what about your year?”
“It was our year.” She gets in line to buy it.
***
Christmas morning, there’s another ornament in her stocking. It bears a simple Knope/Biden, four more years.
“I guess I can have two ornaments this year,” she decides, grinning as she hangs it in the tree.