Fic: The Trial by Leslie Knope - Part 4/?
Title: The Trial by Leslie Knope, Part 4/?
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Pairings: Leslie/Ben, Ann/Other, Ann/Chris
Spoilers: The Trial of Leslie Knope, The Comeback Kid, Sweet Sixteen, Dave Returns, and Live Ammo if you squint.
Rating: R (sex! naked people! ... for sex without naked people refer back to chapter 2.)
Word count: ~8600
Summary: Continuation of the first three parts: Chris meditates. A meditation on Chris and Ben. Domestic bliss with Andy, April, and Ann. And trouble in paradise: Ben takes a sadness bath. Because it has been a while, I've included a short recap of what happened in earlier chapters.
Notes: This is in response to a prompt for the Leslie/Ben Holiday Fest by saucydiva: An AU where Leslie has to, for whatever reason, in whatever capacity, conduct an ethics trial. It could be for Chris, or make it really fun and have the accused be Ann or Ben. Basically, I want to see what happens when Leslie has a love of government versus love of friend dilemma. Many, many thanks to the excellent rikyl for the beta! The thing about burlesque acts is once more from the list of wacky Pawnee Municipal Statutes. By the way, I have adjusted this to the existence of Champion since it was quite convenient. But City Council is still not a part-time job in this fic. And comments are the best!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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Quick Recap: It is 2013, early fall. Chris has asked Councilwoman Knope to conduct an ethics trial against himself and Ann, as they've been having relations, of the carnal sort, recently. Ann is married, but Leslie has also learned from her that she is getting a divorce. Leslie has struggled with her loyalty to her friends, the desire to make an example of Chris, and the ethical standards she's required to uphold in her position in deciding on a strategy for the trial. Ann has moved out of the house she shared with her husband Graham in Eagleton in an attempt to get her life back together. Because she couldn't come to stay with Leslie on account of the upcoming trial, Leslie figured things out so Ann could move in with Andy and April for the time being. This also allowed Ben, to whom Leslie has been engaged to be married for months, to move into Leslie's house. Ben is a lecturer at PCC (as well as consulting with city hall on some budget matters). And Andy, who is still majoring in women's studies, has started attending Ben's class on local politics, hoping for an easy pass.
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Chapter 4
Monday
On Monday morning, the morning of the trial, Chris's face morphed from slack-jawed sleepiness into a grimace before he could stop it. His eyes fell on the alarm clock by the bed, which revealed the time to be 5:37 a.m.
Another night's rest rudely interrupted by his own mind's restlessness. Dammit. Again, he'd fallen short of getting the seven and a half hours of sleep needed for optimal preservation of energy and youthfulness. His body was a microchip. Timed to the nanosecond. The trial was the speck of dust interfering with normal operations. It had been causing delays in entering sleep mode, and premature exits from it, every night for more than a week. He was in desperate need of a reboot. But not today.
Today was the opposite of a return to normalcy. He had twenty-three minutes left for sleep this morning! And wasted them. That was the kicker. Because now that he was awake, now that he was irritated, his control of his mind was already slipping away from him. Already his thoughts were jumping to the trial. There was a nervous nausea building in his stomach; the palms of his hands and the bottoms of his feet were starting to tingle. He groaned. No, he'd never be able to go back to sleep now. He'd be lucky if he got anywhere with his morning meditation.
With that thought, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and, in an effort of will, aligned his facial muscles so they produced a smile. It helped. If that alignment of muscles actually released endorphins or whether it just caused his spirits to follow his physiology in Pavlovian fashion to hurry and assume their habitual positivity, he couldn't say. But he felt the negativity recede as he breathed in deeply and pushed aside the curtains. Daylight flooded the half-octagonally shaped room whose four shorter walls were made entirely of glass. The sky was mostly cloudy, but with the occasional tattered edge in the cloud cover, so that specks of blue were visible. Beautiful! A reminder that even when things got murky, you could always count on clear skies eventually. Nature was fantastic like that!
He went into the studio, which was empty but for a potted palm tree whose leaves touched the ceiling, a three-foot stone statue of the Buddha in his meditation pose, and the "om"-embroidered meditation pillow in front of it. There Chris sat for twenty minutes and imagined himself breathing in light, energy, warmth and out tiredness and gloom. Man was but a part of nature, and it was in the very nature of nature to be good. To be magnificent!
He stretched for ten minutes and held a headstand for five, after which he retreated to the bathroom for a Scottish shower. Another fifteen minutes later, he sat on the bar stool behind his kitchen counter with a green smoothie and his laptop. Emails tended to pile up over the weekend, as though half of Pawnee's public servants somehow got their best ideas when they were off the clock, and, like excited children, had to get them to the City Manager post-haste.
Marcy Kimball from the library department had proposed a city-wide ban on e-readers. Those already owned by Pawnee citizens, she suggested, could be rounded up, put into a pile in the city hall parking lot, and burned in protest and solemn remembrance of actual book burnings. The new Chief of Police, Dave Sanderson, had emailed to demand the City Manager's office create a task force of "at least three dozen highly trained and heavily armed officers" of the Department of Animal Control to stop people from calling the police in case of "raccoon or raccoon-related emergencies" - which currently took up nearly 85 percent of the police force's time, he claimed. And Tom Haverford had sent a message marked urgent calling for the transformation of the East Side branch of the library into a city-owned and operated brewery-slash-nightclub - a project on which he'd be happy to take point. "P.S.: Gadgets are dope, so suck it, book jockeys!"
Chris shook his head. Fool's errands all. Nevertheless, the industrious spirit of these emails was tremendous!
After sorting through this special kind of junk mail, he marked other emails he'd have to deal with later without pausing to worry if it'd still be his job to deal with them. There was something from Ben, too. It was likely just something that had to do with the Public Works budget he was currently consulting on, but Ben-of course-was one of his favourite people in the entire universe. He could use a bit of that, a bit of Ben, right now, even if it came cloaked in seven layers of business. He clicked on it.
Chris,
I've looked over the revised budget proposal from Public Works. Refer to attachment for my notes.
I just also wanted to say again, good luck on the trial. It's going to be fine. And I do not say that as a witness. As a witness I'd just like to state that Leslie and I haven't discussed it, nor am I in bed with the prosecution in any way. Except literally. As there happens to be some overlap between the institution of the prosecution and the institution of my engagement. A personal union, if you will. Never mind, this isn't part of the official testimony …
But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
Chris smiled. He appreciated what Ben was trying to do. He was offering an olive branch ahead of the fact. In his own way, he was saying that this wouldn't be like last time, when Chris had put Leslie and Ben himself on trial.
≈
The way that had gone down between them was this. While Leslie had called it "Chris's rule" time and again, had rolled her eyes at its mere existence, had openly blamed Chris, Ben had known better.
“I think you began your relationship with Ben Wyatt earlier than you're saying, I believe that you certainly received special treatment, and I think that you may even guilty of bribery,” Chris had accused her, and Leslie had stormed at him that she'd prove none of it was true. In short, they'd yelled, but by the end of the day they were done yelling, and then they understood each other and that was that. Ben … had been more complicated.
For a few months after his resignation, he was strangely reserved with Chris. They barely spoke. And because it was too strange to think, after more than a decade on the road together, that this was the new order of things now that they weren't working together, Chris at first suspected that Ben resented him for having stood between him and Leslie. Sure, it was irrational. Chris wasn’t cruel. Things would have been much simpler if there had ever really been such a thing as “Chris's rule”. But it wasn’t hard to see why Ben might have lingering resentment towards Chris just the same.
After all, there had been that inexplicable streak in the early summer of 2011 when Ben had smiled so much and so easily and had cracked so many bad jokes that Chris had felt compelled to ask him, more than once, what vitamins he was taking. Even though he knew very well that Ben only took that one multi-vitamin, kind of reluctantly too, and only because you couldn’t be close to Chris Traeger for years on end and expect him not to add years to your life like that.
But the happiness had ended as quickly as it had come, and in the months before the trial, Ben had seemed to retreat back in on himself. The hardness had returned to the frown lines in his face, the rigidity to the way he carried himself. He had an even shorter fuse than usual when departments fell behind on their paperwork.
Ben, of course, was outstanding and terrific and deserved only the best all the time, and Chris would have made every effort humanly possible to ensure his happiness. But the crux of the matter was that this Ben, the one ensconced in his shell, the one who demanded competence and snapped at people when he didn't get it, the one who picked unenthusiastically at his lunch at Sue’s Salads, was so much closer to the man he'd known all these years.
The Ben who sat at his desk and smiled at his computer screen as he sent emails to the Parks Department, denying requests for additional funds for their community center, had been an aberration. A fluke. From Chris’s point of you, after twelve years on the road together, you might as well have missed him if you so much as squinted. And so, when the old Ben had returned, Chris hadn't been surprised. Actually, he'd started to wonder if he hadn't dreamt the other one up himself on an overdose of primrose.
The whole thing only made sense when Chris found out those emails to the Parks Department had been emails addressed to one "Snuggy-buggy" by one "Benjamin Netankissyou." And by then, well, by then it was way too late. Ben was out of a job before Chris knew what to think or how to talk him out of it.
On the Tuesday morning after the trial, he discovered that all of Ben's things had gone from the office. Chris knew for a fact that Ben hadn't been escorted out by security or anything dramatically drastic like that - he'd ordered them to stand down himself. Still - there had been no goodbyes. As he stood staring uncomprehendingly at Ben's empty desk, Chris thought he understood that, even just unconsciously, Ben might harbour a grudge towards Chris for having presented the obstacle between him and Leslie. The difference between loneliness and love. Or maybe it was just that Ben had chosen between Leslie and the job, and felt the job naturally included Chris. Chris didn't, couldn't blame him for it, not really. It wasn’t always easy to think of public servants as separate from the institutions they served. He decided it was probably best to leave Ben alone for a while.
But a couple of weeks later he heard Ben had hit a bit of a rough patch after resigning in disgrace. So Chris went to test the waters and found Ben in a state he’d never seen before. Looking ten years younger in his faded Letters to Cleo t-shirt and Doc Martens, utterly lost on a professional, yet giddy with happiness on a personal level. Chris felt strangely fatherly in his suit and tie and overcoat as he told Ben his new gastronomic entrepreneurship was producing the best ideas he’d ever heard of - though they might as well have sprung from the mind of Tom Haverford.
And he was more relieved than anybody in the world had ever been before when Ben finally stopped fidgeting like a hormonal teenager and they were able to have A Moment over herbal smoothies. “You can’t hide these things from your friends,” Chris said and realized belatedly that felt was confident in what he'd said. They were friends, still. Again.
After that, he stopped thinking that the problem was him, and started thinking maybe it was Ben himself. After all, he'd sort of blindsided Chris with the illicit relationship, and again with the resignation. Suddenly they weren't working together for the first time in over a decade. It was kind of Chris's fault, but it was kind of Ben's fault, too, and it wasn't what either of them had planned or wished for. And, crucially, he'd seen him do it many, many times before: when Ben made a mess of things, his instinct was to retreat.
Herbal smoothies aside, things didn't go back to the way they were right away. But Chris knew he just had to give it time. He was swamped anyway. There was no City Treasurer at the time. Ben had eliminated the position when they'd slashed Pawnee's budget and had allocated the duties to the newly created - and lower paid - position of Assistant City Manager, which he'd taken on himself. After losing Ben, Chris was stuck with both jobs, and the hunt for a replacement. Then he lost Millicent, too, and for a few weeks cared very little about anything.
He pulled himself back out of the funk, gradually, agonizingly, with the help of the (magnificent!) April Ludgate and the (outstanding!) Champion. And when he didn't feel quite so much like he was wading through quicksand anymore, when the world stopped appearing to him in a sickening shade of soupy sepia, and when he stopped feeling a sharp pain in his chest every time he saw Ben smile at Leslie, Chris called Ben. When they got together over salad at Sue’s for the first time in months, Ben wolfed his down so enthusiastically that Chris had to bite his tongue on a comment about benefits of chewing each bite 20 times. “Hey man, I’m glad you’re doing better," Ben said, and then added wryly, "Your smile has not had that normal universal and rigorous, incomprehensible Chris Traeger sense of fun in a while.”
They also hatched the most ingenious plan ever conceived - a rival to the most shrewd scheme that had ever existed, the one that had allowed them both to keep their jobs and marked the beginning of their partnership all those years ago. Ben would consult with city hall on some of the more essential City Treasurer duties without actually being in the public service, per se. He could do most of it from home or from his office at PCC, and it would nicely supplement his lecturer salary. Chris could hire himself a second assistant, but wouldn’t actually have to train anybody to do the more complicated calculations. With this resumption of their working relationship the world had finally returned to normal.
≈
Chris read the email again as he took a sip of the green liquid in his glass.
… But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
He chuckled and then he chugged the rest of his smoothie and felt his chest expand a little. Yes, it was good to have friends. The best!
It was amusing, too, that it sounded like Ben and Leslie's experiment in living together was proving no less of an awkward balancing act than the other new roommate constellation he'd gotten a glimpse of this past weekend …
++++
Saturday
"Ann Perkins! Hey!"
Perkins? "Um … hey. Chris." She hadn't been Ann Perkins in a while. But correcting that felt … wrong, under the circumstances.
He wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't he saying anything? Was she supposed to invite him in? She wouldn't do that. She didn't want him here, hadn't invited him. So why was he here? He was just getting himself in deeper and deeper. Was that what he wanted? It couldn't be.
Ann folded her arms across her chest. Chris raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. She didn't smile. He did. It made her feel self-conscious about the flour making her hair look white and grey in patches.
"So, I see you've moved in already. That was fast."
"Yeah, hasn't it?" Damn, now she was running her hand awkwardly through her hair, creating a cloud of white dust around her head. Chris's lip twitched.
"Was there actually something you wanted or did you just come here to check up on me?"
Ouch. That came out a lot harsher than was justified. Chris's eyes widened, his smile faltering for a second before he recovered it. "No, Ann, of course I'm not … checking up on you? I'm just picking up Champion. We've got an outing planned - and - it's going to be off the charts!"
"Oh. Of course. Right." She didn't really understand Chris's attachment to a dog that wasn't his. Sure, whenever she'd seen him around Champion, he'd been cuddled up with the dog somewhere, but Chris was overzealous about so many things. Who knew what actually mattered to him, except six-hour meditation torture sessions …
"Champion! Hey champion!" she yelled into the house and whistled. He came running immediately, a large three-legged dog enveloped in a cloud of white dust, enthusiastically wagging his tail.
"Hello boy!" Chris squatted down next to the dog, who proceeded to lick his face enthusiastically. "Who's a good boy? You are! Yes, you are," Chris was saying. But if Champion could speak he might have been saying the same, Ann thought. It was … sweet actually.
She didn't realize she'd been standing there watching for maybe ten seconds before Chris raised his eyes to her.
"What happened to the two of you?" he said as he ran his hands against the grain through Champion's fur to get rid of the flour, which was rising up and enveloping the three of them in a kind of fog. Ann sneezed.
"Been trying to teach Andy to bake. Things got out of hand when April showed up looking for the orange juice. She lives to destroy. Poor Champion was just collateral damage." She had to laugh as she said it. The kitchen floor was covered in flour half an inch thick. And who knew what April and Andy were up to even now to make it worse. She imagined an entire floor of cake batter. It would be sticky at first, making each step stringy, like wading through the nastiest swamp you could imagine. But then the inevitable batter residue would harden and cling to the tiles forever…
You either had to laugh with them or yell and move out, she'd decided. But, being honest with herself, she had to admit, if it felt good to laugh, it felt even better to be able to fret about things that didn't really matter. Like a kitchen you couldn't step foot in or how she was going to guilt April and Andy into cleaning up the mess.
"I see. Well…"
Just then Andy surfaced, crossing the living room at a run. April was hard on his heels wielding the marshmallow shooter, but it was loaded with m&ms and Andy gave a startled yelp every time a salvo of the small hard candies hit his back.
"Ouch. Ah. That really stings. Have mercy, Mrs. Snakehole, I beg you!" He turned around with a pleading expression, but kept moving backwards.
"You should have thought of that before you betrayed me to The Shadow, Agent Macklin!" April shot him in the gut. But then she noticed Chris, Ann, and Champion by the door and stopped abruptly. Andy took advantage of the interruption and sprinted to safety in Ann's bedroom. Great. So much for keeping the flour footprints out of there, Ann thought.
She was about to yell after him that he had better vacuum all traces of the stuff from the carpet before she set foot in there again, but April cut off that train of thought.
"What are you guys doing?" she asked.
"Hm? Oh, nothing." Chris and Ann said in unison. He smiled and she cringed a little.
"I was just picking up Champion," Chris said mildly. "I have the most amazing outing planned for the two of us. First, I thought we would check out the new dog park, then a full-body grooming session at Groovy Growl-Free Grooming, and - spoiler alert, Champion - I bought you calf liver for dinner…"
"Great. Well. How about you get on with it. Aren't the two of you … I don't know … not supposed to hang out together right now?"
Ann could feel herself blush, but Chris just said, "April Ludgate, you are absolutely right. And - I commend your virtuous spirit."
April made a face and waved him off, brandishing her m&m shooter again. Chris reached for Champion's leash on a clothes hanger by the door, leashed the dog and began leading him away. "Bye Ann," he said over his shoulder. April slammed the front door before Ann got a chance to reply.
++++
The phone rang. It must have been the fifteenth time today. Which made it kind of a slow Saturday for Councilwoman Knope, Ben knew.
It was 5 p.m. She was standing in the kitchen, one-handedly fiddling with the coffee maker.
"Uh-huh," Leslie said into the phone. "Well, did you actually read the article?"
Ben reached over and inserted the coffee filter. Leslie sent him a grateful smile.
"Three times, really? Great job." There was a pause. Leslie nodded as the other side gave what seemed to be some kind of lengthy explanation.
"No, no. I think it's also important what you think of it, if not more important. What did you think when you read it?"
She listened more briefly this time. Ben checked the water level, then filled the filter with four heaping spoons of coffee to match. He raised his eyebrows when Leslie burst into laughter.
"Well … okay. How about tomorrow? Meet me at J.J.'s and we'll go over it."
The other side, a man's voice, was obviously excited by this idea. Ben still couldn't understand what he said, but the muffled sounds had gotten louder and picked up speed.
"Alright. Yeah. That's great. See you tomorrow." She hung up.
"Who was that?" Ben asked.
"Oh just … Andy."
"Andy? What are you … " Something clicked in his head. "Leslie." His voice had taken on the warning tone he'd had to use more times than he could count when he'd been trying to get her elected to the City Council and she'd regularly insisted on pursuing a campaign strategy that defied all logic. Of course, he wasn't her campaign manager now, but if this was about what he suspected it to be about …
She was silent. A bad sign.
"Please tell me you aren't doing his classwork for him."
"Of course not! I would never … I'm just helping him a little. You know, suggesting an essay topic and what material to use. Possibly helping him reach some conclusions and polishing the writing just a little bit …"
… yes, it was warranted indeed. Intro to Local Political Affairs was tough for a reason. Ben's class was difficult for the same reason his budget cuts had been the most efficient in Indiana for more than a decade. He had a reputation to uphold. A reputation based on his belief that most things worth doing were hard as well as unpopular.
His hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You can't do this."
"Ben-"
"Leslie, no. If Andy can't pass my class on his own, then he shouldn't pass it at all. There's a reason only about half a dozen people attend that class and I'd kind of … you know, like to keep it that way."
"There's nothing wrong with a little help as long as he's learning something."
Said as if he was an idiot for not realizing as much. He gritted his teeth. He had to pick his battles though.
"Fine. But there's everything wrong with any help from you."
She bristled at that. Ben could see it in her eyes, in the sharp, straight line of her mouth. Still, he wouldn't, couldn't back down on this.
"I'm highly qualified, I assure you," Leslie snapped.
"Come on, it's got nothing to do with … It's just not ethical, Leslie."
"It's fine. This is Andy's job, it's only natural he would write about what goes on in city hall when it's pertinent for class!"
"Maybe so, but not with all the help and guidance - or should I say, ghostwriting- of his teacher's fiancée!"
"Agh!" She threw up her arms, exasperated. "You would never even have known about this if you hadn't listened while I was on the phone! Mean Professor Ben, I'm starting to understand why they call you that!"
Ben inhaled sharply. Her steadfast belief in her own sneakiness aside, it was preposterous. She had to know that he'd recognize her writing style anywhere, surely. From a mile away and upwind and blindfolded. It was discursive and flowery with surprising moments of hard-hitting incisiveness. He envied it, actually. But he hated shouting matches, always had. On the job he'd learned to take them on and then shrug them off, but the personal ones still left him feeling drained and deflated and depressed.
"Just … don't interfere with my work, okay? I resigned in disgrace once. I'd rather not repeat the experience," Ben said. He sounded somehow both tentative and angry. It was a mixture all members of the Wyatt family had perfected, he thought with a surge of self-loathing. Bravo. Leslie was silent. It was probably the reminder of his noble act of self-sacrifice, so-called, that had gotten to her. A cheap shot. That was the problem with being non-confrontational. When you had to fight, you couldn't manage to fight clean.
To calm himself, and maybe try to defuse the situation, he pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat.
That was a mistake. Without looking, he'd sat on a stack of papers - he spotted something about an upcoming City Council decision on the refurbishment of Pawnee's middle schools as it went flying across the floor with the rest of the top half of the stack. He could hear the crackle of the other half-stack of papers being creased as he sat on them.
"Dammit. Everything is … everywhere!" He shot up again, picked up the papers that lay scattered and tossed them on the table. Her clutter intruded at the worst times.
He was frustrated with her stubbornness, her unwillingness to see his point of view as Andy's teacher. Felt embarrassed about the papers. And claustrophobic about this entire confrontation. Leslie was still glaring daggers at him as she assessed the damage from a distance. She still wasn't saying anything either and it was unnerving.
"You could, you know … keep those somewhere. Not in the kitchen."
He tried his best to sound neutral, but his tone fell on deaf ears.
"I have a system, Ben."
Something inside him snapped.
"Sure. Of course. You get to have a system. Everything's fair game as long as nobody messes with your system, is that it?"
Too far. He was generalizing, turning this into a free for all on all sorts of principles on which their relationship was, or should be, based. It no longer had anything to do with either his class or her clutter. He knew it as the words came out of his mouth, but it was too late to stop them.
"No. That's not … That doesn't … You and your… system! Don't act like everything's going my way when it's obvious to anybody with eyes in their head that's such BULLSHIT!"
She gesticulated wildly around the room, her meaning unmistakable.
Leslie was as fine without him living here as she was with it, maybe even more so. It wasn't like he didn't know that it had taken Ann's predicament for them to move in together, but it stung plenty all the same.
Ben stared at Leslie, blankly. She stared back. There was nothing more to say. They'd each taken a stab at the other and twisted their knives. Stalemate.
After a few agonizing seconds, she broke the gaze, brought her attention to the papers. With her back to him, she lifted the creased half-stack from the chair to the table and started putting the rest of the papers back in order. He turned on his heel and left the room without looking back.
++++
Sunday
Leslie was still convinced that helping Andy was the right thing to do, but even so, she thought the door to J.J.'s Diner felt unusually heavy this morning. Like there was something trying to prevent her from entering and accomplishing her mission here. But she managed it, of course.
She spotted Andy in a booth by the cake display. He was waving at her.
"Hey boss, how's it going?" he said as she slid onto the bench opposite him.
"Hey. So, your essay? What's the problem with it?"
Andy looked at her, surprised. Leslie supposed it was because she seldom treated her assistant so businesslike. They always had fun conspiring to produce his academic success. Whatever. She wasn't in the mood for fun. She just wanted to get this over with, so she could go and figure out a plan for making up with Ben.
Andy's glasses case snapped shut on his fingers. "Ouch," he said and put on the glasses. Wearing them was apparently some kind of prerequisite for engaging with the dangerous and confusing world of academia.
When they'd spent an hour and a half on Andy's assignment, Leslie thought she was beginning to understand why Ben thought helping Andy was the same as doing the work for him. Never mind several months of concentrated work on the issue from the very office in which he sat - Andy had managed to misunderstand just what the women's representative Leslie was trying to get the City Council to reinstate actually was. Because his class had recently discussed the national women's health debate, he now thought Claudia Falkner was some kind of doctor-slash-drug store employee who would provide Pawnee's public servants with an unlimited free supply of contraceptives, tampons, as well as gynaecological exams and on-demand abortions - all of which he was enthusiastically in favour of. Though he passionately and rather convincingly argued that all of Pawnee's women should have the benefit of Falkner's services and not just city employees.
The "essay" he had produced on the subject fell somewhat short of 200 words. 2000 was the required minimum. Leslie pointed out that he'd forgotten a zero when he gauged his fulfillment of Ben's requirement. Andy's eyes went wide as saucers. And when she finally managed to explain to him that Falkner's powers were political and psychological rather than medical, he looked surprised and slightly bummed. Leslie sighed.
"What's up?" Andy asked.
"Hm?"
"Oh, you're out of whipped cream. Duh." He punched his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Hey Marta, can I get another can of whipped cream for my fabulous lady boss here?"
"Coming right up," said the waitress.
Leslie couldn't suppress a grin. Even though she was supposed to be in a terrible mood and Andy's lack of progress wasn't helping, whipped cream always did. Thank goodness her assistant could always be counted on for the most important things. That was why she shouldn't let him down.
"How are things working out with Ann?" she asked as Andy gallantly topped off her half full coffee cup with whipped cream. The coffee itself was cold. She'd just been spooning one serving of whipped cream after another off it for the last hour.
"Great! Yesterday we had a flour fight in the kitchen. Ann was actually teaching me to bake apple pie. Super fun." He giggled. "Except April started shooting me with m&ms and now I've got bruises all over. See?"
He lifted his shirt, and sure enough, his torso was sprinkled with little blue spots.
Leslie raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, sounds great."
"Yeah." He took a bite of his brownie and wobbled his head back and forth a few times as if contemplating a weighty matter. "But then Ann got kind of fed up because the kitchen floor and, you know, also flour footprints all over. And her bedroom is a sacred space, she said. And she threatened to move out. So I cleaned up. Ann luuurves it when I clean up!"
Oh yeah, Leslie remembered how excited Ann had gotten when Andy had cleaned her whole house on crutches, way back when she and Leslie had only been friends for a few weeks. So long ago that Leslie hadn't wasted a thought on their history when she suggested Ann move in with Andy and April. Or on the time after that, when April had kind of hated Ann's guts …
"And April and Ann - getting along just fine?" she asked.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Pretty good! Even though Ann said 'I won't clean this, I wasn't the one who started it and I'm not you guys' maid.' And then April started doing Janet Snakehole again and screamed, 'I'll never cook for you and I'll never clean for you either!', and she chucked the rest of the m&ms on the floor and I stepped on 'em and slipped and fell on my back. Ann made me put ice on it for an hour and after that I cleaned it all up."
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "But anyway, yeah, they're getting along pretty well. Last night we ordered pizza and Ann wanted to watch this show Downtown Alley so we did. And then when it was over she went on about how she was glad to get her old last name back now. 'I never liked the sound of Butler anyway - something so servile about it,' she said."
"Hm," Leslie said.
"Yeah, so I said that actually Butler sounded kinda badass to me because of-"
"Judith Butler!" Andy and Leslie finished in unison.
"That's right!" Andy said, beaming. "Sex problems."
"What?"
"Her book. Sex Problems."
"Gender Trouble, Andy."
"Yeah, same thing. Her book Gender Trouble is … considered to be one of the canonical texts of queer theory and postmodern-slash-poststructural feminism." He looked around the diner like he was waiting for something delicious to come his way.
"You haven't read Gender Trouble."
"Nah."
"Wikipedia?"
"Yup," he shrugged. "Anyway, then April said 'shut up' and that Perkins and Butler both sound stupid, but Butler's worse. And Ann said, 'Thank you, April', and went to bed."
"I see," Leslie said, laughing. She might be in terrible mood today, but it was hard to keep a straight face while listening to a recount of domestic drama chez Andy. Plus, it felt good to laugh. She could practically feel the knots in her shoulders loosening themselves.
"I got into a bad fight with Ben last night," she admitted because what the hell. She always felt better after talking things through with someone anyway.
"Ooooh, that's why you've been all grumpy and, you know, sad-faced today!" With two fingers he pulled down the corners of his mouth.
"Mhm."
"Sex problems?"
"What?! No!" They both burst out laughing. "Andy!" But she couldn't talk. Uncontrollable giggles had her doubled over. Andy was knocking his fist on the table as he laughed. Every time they seemed to have gotten it all out of their system, they looked at each other's faces and another round of chortling followed. A good five minutes passed before Leslie had composed herself enough to wipe the tears off her cheeks. Her stomach hurt as if she'd been doing crunches. Leave it to Andy to cheer her up. She underestimated him sometimes, she thought.
"No,” she said. Thinking back on the fight brought an end to her mirth. “We just- we fought over … something stupid. Or not stupid, but just- A difference of opinion. Anyway, it doesn't matter. But then it got out of hand and I feel like we were yelling at each other about … about much more important things without actually naming the things of course and- It was just ugly. We didn't even say goodnight, and before I came here this morning, Ben left to go for a run. So that makes it kind of serious, don't you think, because I don't think he's gone for a run maybe ever, at least I know for a fact he hasn't since he stepped foot in Pawnee-"
"Hm. Well, what was 'at issue'?" Andy asked, using finger quotes - presumably to emphasize that he was making an effort to be mature and listen attentively.
"Ahh … I don't know. I think I was just yelling at him because he made it out like I'm always getting my way and not him. But it's not true, because I knew he wanted to move in, just, you know, for example- and, well, he's finally moved in hasn't he?"
She was getting agitated again as yesterday's feelings came bubbling back to the surface. But with the distance of a sleepless night with Ben's back turned to her, Leslie couldn't deny that that wasn't what she'd really gotten so upset about. At the end of the day, she liked having him live with her, she really did. She propped her elbows on the table and her forehead on her hands and studied the tabletop's woodgrain. The way it disappeared under the green cloth placemat.
"Really I think I was just feeling guilty. I don't know, I guess he hit a nerve or something? Because I know I'm making him wait. I made him wait to move in until it was kind of convenient - what with Ann needing a new place to live and because she couldn't come stay with me because of the trial. And I'm still making him wait for … you know … getting married, the wedding, all that stuff. I know I haven't brought it up in months and it's totally my fault and I meant to do it real soon but I've been so busy with everything else that I haven't yet … and god, I'm such a shit."
She actually banged her head on the table a couple times.
"Aw, Leslie," Andy said and patted the top of her head. "I'm sure it'll work out. I mean, I know you love Ben, right?"
Leslie looked at him and nodded fervently, bit her lip.
"And I know Ben luuurves you. So what I think is, as long as you've got that, you can work it out. Maybe you should just go talk to him. And you know, weddings-" He made a wry face.
"Don't overthink it?" Leslie asked.
"That's right! Works best that way, that's what I think."
Leslie propped her cheek on one fist and studied him. "Thanks, Andy," she said. "Did anyone ever tell you you give really good advice?"
"Hah! Yes! Ann, actually. But I'm even better together with April."
"I bet you are." She ate a large spoonful of whipped cream, let it dissolve on her tongue as she closed her eyes and savoured the fluffy sweetness. Then she clapped her hands and said, "Okay, let's knock out the rest of this essay, shall we?"
But Andy waved her off. "Eh, I'm good. I can do the rest on my own."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah, you should go make out with Ben. Make up. Then make out."
Leslie chuckled, but … "Andy, I'm happy to help."
"You did. So much, Leslie, I can't never even hope to repay you. But if you do everything I think Ben might be able to tell anyway. I mean, he just might. Unless we disguise it somehow. But no, no, that would just take even more extra work probably. So what I think is I'll just write until it's two thousand words, not two hundred.” He knocked his fist against his forehead as if to hammer home the point. “Two thousand exactly and then I'll stop and give it to him tomorrow. See what happens."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. At least I'll have given it a shot, right? Challenge yourself!" He pumped a fist in the air, then looked at her and shrugged. "Ron says that's important."
"Well, alright then. Okay. I guess. If that's what you want." Leslie left 20 dollars on the table and got up. "Guess I'll go home then. Right. Okay. Walking away now."
Walking towards the door, she turned around. "Last chance. No?"
Andy just shook his head, smiling, and bent over the notepaper on the table.
++++
"Ben!" Leslie called as she entered the house. No answer. That was strange. His car was in the driveway. Either he wasn't speaking to her or he still- No, no way could he still be jogging. She wasn't marrying Chris Traeger after all.
Upstairs, she passed the bathroom door and there was the sound of water gently splashing. That explained it. She paused outside the door for a minute, trying to decide if she should ambush him in the bath or wait till he came out. But it could be hours before then. At least one. But possibly two. Depending on how long he'd been in there already.
"I can feel you hovering there, Leslie," Ben said. The sound was muffled by the door, but even so, he sounded glum.
Taking a deep breath, Leslie pushed open the bathroom door. "Hey," she said. "Sorry."
"Hey," he sighed from the bathtub. He had his head propped on the edge of the tub, a washcloth covering his eyes. His body was completely submerged in the water and the copious amount of foam covering the surface.
"Ben."
"Mhhyeah. What's up?" He didn't sound at all like he cared to hear what was up. He still wasn't looking at her either.
She sat on the edge of the tub. Wetness seeped through her jeans where the fabric touched the ceramic, at her butt and the underside of her left thigh.
"I really am sorry," she said.
Finally, his hand came up out of the water and pulled the washcloth off his face. His eyes, when they met hers, were hard, guarded.
"You still went and met with Andy. Didn't you?" It occurred to her that this was why he'd gone running. He hadn't wanted to know if she left. The meeting had run on too long for that though. It was past noon now. No use denying it.
"I did."
"Leslie-"
"No, listen. I did go meet with Andy. And I did help him with the essay, somewhat. And I still think it's fair enough given that it's on local affairs and I happen to be a key player in them and, you know, more power to him for making use of all his resources-"
Ben shifted. His right knee broke through the water and bubbles then submerged again. Little waves hit the edges of the tub, soaking the wet parts of Leslie's jeans more thoroughly.
"But! But here's the thing. I gave him a few pointers but then we started talking about other things and anyway, he actually said he wanted to write it on his own. Challenge himself. Advice from Ron."
Ben's expression didn't change, but she thought she saw something softening in his eyes. Just a little. Like thaw hitting a glacier.
"So I, I kind of … while we were working on it, I kind of understood why you thought I'd end up doing all the work, actually. But now … you'll see. It's going to be nothing like I ghostwrote it. Kind of a shame actually, if you think about it."
The corner of his lip twitched. A single drop of water running down a block of ice.
"Anyway, that's not even what I wanted to talk to you about, really."
"It's not?"
Leslie reached into the water and took his hand, drenching the edge of her rolled up sweater sleeve. "No." She met his eyes and felt the air getting warmer. A warm front approaching that would mark the end of winter.
As she entwined their fingers, Leslie felt a surge of something, a feeling both nauseating and lovely, that shot from her belly down to her toes and then up into her throat. It seemed to lodge itself there, for when she spoke her voice was slightly hoarse.
"I've been thinking. And I think we should- I mean, let's-" No, that wouldn't do at all. She was speaking to their joined hands, and this was far too important for that. She forced herself to raise her head and look straight into his eyes. They were kind now. There was something flickering in them, she thought. A tiny flame, reignited.
"Ben, will you marry me?" Saying it spread a grin across her face. She couldn't help it, she gave a tiny chuckle, too.
Ben's other hand shot up from the water and curled around the back of her neck. The entire front of her torso got soaked as he raised himself up just enough to pull her face down to his. Water, dripping from his hand, ran down the back of her sweater and there was the imprint of his wet hand in her hair. Leslie braced the hand that wasn't holding his on his shoulder as he kissed her thoroughly. It was a long kiss, deep and warm, like a bonfire on a chilly night.
When he broke it, he held her face close to his. "Yes, if that's what you want. And if you won't lose your mind over it," he said.
"It is." She kissed him again. Faster this time, and more urgently. "And I won't. When can we get started?" she asked when she came up for air.
He laughed and released her neck. She straightened, looked down her front. The drenched sweater, the expanding wet spots on her jeans. "I'm soaked."
"Oh my, whatever can we do about that?" Ben grinned. He disentangled their fingers and circled his thumb across her palm. A volcano sprung to life in her gut. Lava bubbling, pressure building.
Her wet sweater made a flopping sound as it hit the floor. Her jeans, bra, and underpants joined it in an untidy pile. At least two gallons of water were displaced on the floor as she climbed on top of Ben. His erection pressed against her thigh. He kissed her breasts, sucked on her nipples, and pressed a thumb to her clitoris.
But when she shifted to align their hips, the back of Ben's head hit the edge of the bathtub, hard. "Ow," he said and shook his head as if seeing stars.
He resumed kissing her but she couldn't find any place to put her knees without either jamming them into some part of him or having them uncomfortably pressed against the ceramic. The tub was small enough that her entire back and sides were above the waterline, too. The exposure of her wet skin to the bathroom air caused a shiver.
Ben shovelled a handful of warm bathwater across her back, which made her tremble in a good way. Leslie kissed the tip of his nose, both cheeks, and the expanse of his throat, relishing in the sandpapery feel of the stubble there. He hadn't shaved today yet.
"What do you think? Move this over to bed?" she asked.
"Definitely."
They hastily towelled each other off and Ben cursed when he tripped over a stack of Pawnee municipal code books from the 1980s on their way to the bed. Those had found a temporary home on the floor of the upstairs hallway after he'd banished them from the main bookshelf in the living room on Friday.
"Really, Leslie-"
"Those are important," she explained as she pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. "Did you know that any woman caught whistling can be jailed for burlesque acts in this town? And that that statute was established not in the 1880s, like you might expect, but the 1980s- "
"Uh-huh." He said between kisses.
"You did?"
"Ah…" He positioned himself and pushed inside her. "…no." They started moving together, rapidly picking up speed.
"Good thing you have a smart and capable …. ahh … not to mention well-equipped councilwoman at your disposal … ooooh….oh God! Ben!" They both climaxed within quick succession of each other.
"… to point out such important facts to you," she finished as she started drawing circles on his chest with her fingers. Shudders were still coursing through Ben in waves, each less intense than the one before. Smoke continued to rise from the volcano. The spilt lava, crusting over, gave off a faint afterglow.
"What are you doing?" Leslie asked when she woke up next to him.
Ben was sitting up in bed, typing something on his laptop. Outside, the sunlight had taken on the characteristic orange tint of late afternoon. She must have been asleep for hours. Her body felt heavy the way it did when you weren't used to taking naps but had just taken an accidental one. Ben reached over and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.
"Oh, just emailing Chris. Saying good luck tomorrow, you know."
"Hm, right." The trial, which she had somehow managed not to lose a thought on all day. She sat up. The mention of it gave her a jolt of urgency, called all her muscles to attention. The feeling was entirely misplaced, since there was nothing she could do about it now. Her final strategy was written down in her padfolio, downstairs on the coffee table. But she couldn't lie still either.
"You should mention your run today. That would make his day."
"No way. He'd force me to go with him. And I'm already getting sore! That was just a very bad idea all around."
Leslie chuckled.
"But I am telling him we should get together for dinner sometime after the trial. If that's all right with you."
"Fine. Oh, tell him when he comes over, I'll make my infamous cheesecake just for him! That'll really make his day."
They laughed as they both imagined Chris's expression of simultaneous delight and horror. Ben finished typing and hit send, leaned over and kissed her lips.
++++
Monday
… But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
Chris sighed and shook his head. His heart sank a little as he stirred bee pollen into a low-fat natural yogurt. It was good to have friends. And their adjustments to living together were an amusing spectacle to watch from afar, no question.
But that in itself was sad, too. Things could only be that awkward if you had people around. And people? People were the best.
Seeing his friends, he felt like everyone had people to share their lives with, their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and setbacks and tragedies. To play Boggle with at all hours and cook dinner for and to hold them together like they weren't just molecules floating around in random patterns, devoid of meaning. And Chris? He had recently had a glimpse of Ann's disillusionment and misfortune - an experience for which he was about to pay dearly, he thought. Now he was back to having what he'd always had. 2.8 percent body fat and an apartment with a palm tree and a stone Buddha.
He took a spoonful of the yogurt, but it appeared to have no taste at all. So he sat watching the seconds tick away on his wall clock. When the clock hit eight, he put on his coat, ran a hand through his hair, and studied his face in the mirror. Chris plastered on a smile that almost immediately degraded into a grimace, shut the door behind him, and started walking towards city hall.
TBC
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Pairings: Leslie/Ben, Ann/Other, Ann/Chris
Spoilers: The Trial of Leslie Knope, The Comeback Kid, Sweet Sixteen, Dave Returns, and Live Ammo if you squint.
Rating: R (sex! naked people! ... for sex without naked people refer back to chapter 2.)
Word count: ~8600
Summary: Continuation of the first three parts: Chris meditates. A meditation on Chris and Ben. Domestic bliss with Andy, April, and Ann. And trouble in paradise: Ben takes a sadness bath. Because it has been a while, I've included a short recap of what happened in earlier chapters.
Notes: This is in response to a prompt for the Leslie/Ben Holiday Fest by saucydiva: An AU where Leslie has to, for whatever reason, in whatever capacity, conduct an ethics trial. It could be for Chris, or make it really fun and have the accused be Ann or Ben. Basically, I want to see what happens when Leslie has a love of government versus love of friend dilemma. Many, many thanks to the excellent rikyl for the beta! The thing about burlesque acts is once more from the list of wacky Pawnee Municipal Statutes. By the way, I have adjusted this to the existence of Champion since it was quite convenient. But City Council is still not a part-time job in this fic. And comments are the best!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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Quick Recap: It is 2013, early fall. Chris has asked Councilwoman Knope to conduct an ethics trial against himself and Ann, as they've been having relations, of the carnal sort, recently. Ann is married, but Leslie has also learned from her that she is getting a divorce. Leslie has struggled with her loyalty to her friends, the desire to make an example of Chris, and the ethical standards she's required to uphold in her position in deciding on a strategy for the trial. Ann has moved out of the house she shared with her husband Graham in Eagleton in an attempt to get her life back together. Because she couldn't come to stay with Leslie on account of the upcoming trial, Leslie figured things out so Ann could move in with Andy and April for the time being. This also allowed Ben, to whom Leslie has been engaged to be married for months, to move into Leslie's house. Ben is a lecturer at PCC (as well as consulting with city hall on some budget matters). And Andy, who is still majoring in women's studies, has started attending Ben's class on local politics, hoping for an easy pass.
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Chapter 4
Monday
On Monday morning, the morning of the trial, Chris's face morphed from slack-jawed sleepiness into a grimace before he could stop it. His eyes fell on the alarm clock by the bed, which revealed the time to be 5:37 a.m.
Another night's rest rudely interrupted by his own mind's restlessness. Dammit. Again, he'd fallen short of getting the seven and a half hours of sleep needed for optimal preservation of energy and youthfulness. His body was a microchip. Timed to the nanosecond. The trial was the speck of dust interfering with normal operations. It had been causing delays in entering sleep mode, and premature exits from it, every night for more than a week. He was in desperate need of a reboot. But not today.
Today was the opposite of a return to normalcy. He had twenty-three minutes left for sleep this morning! And wasted them. That was the kicker. Because now that he was awake, now that he was irritated, his control of his mind was already slipping away from him. Already his thoughts were jumping to the trial. There was a nervous nausea building in his stomach; the palms of his hands and the bottoms of his feet were starting to tingle. He groaned. No, he'd never be able to go back to sleep now. He'd be lucky if he got anywhere with his morning meditation.
With that thought, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and, in an effort of will, aligned his facial muscles so they produced a smile. It helped. If that alignment of muscles actually released endorphins or whether it just caused his spirits to follow his physiology in Pavlovian fashion to hurry and assume their habitual positivity, he couldn't say. But he felt the negativity recede as he breathed in deeply and pushed aside the curtains. Daylight flooded the half-octagonally shaped room whose four shorter walls were made entirely of glass. The sky was mostly cloudy, but with the occasional tattered edge in the cloud cover, so that specks of blue were visible. Beautiful! A reminder that even when things got murky, you could always count on clear skies eventually. Nature was fantastic like that!
He went into the studio, which was empty but for a potted palm tree whose leaves touched the ceiling, a three-foot stone statue of the Buddha in his meditation pose, and the "om"-embroidered meditation pillow in front of it. There Chris sat for twenty minutes and imagined himself breathing in light, energy, warmth and out tiredness and gloom. Man was but a part of nature, and it was in the very nature of nature to be good. To be magnificent!
He stretched for ten minutes and held a headstand for five, after which he retreated to the bathroom for a Scottish shower. Another fifteen minutes later, he sat on the bar stool behind his kitchen counter with a green smoothie and his laptop. Emails tended to pile up over the weekend, as though half of Pawnee's public servants somehow got their best ideas when they were off the clock, and, like excited children, had to get them to the City Manager post-haste.
Marcy Kimball from the library department had proposed a city-wide ban on e-readers. Those already owned by Pawnee citizens, she suggested, could be rounded up, put into a pile in the city hall parking lot, and burned in protest and solemn remembrance of actual book burnings. The new Chief of Police, Dave Sanderson, had emailed to demand the City Manager's office create a task force of "at least three dozen highly trained and heavily armed officers" of the Department of Animal Control to stop people from calling the police in case of "raccoon or raccoon-related emergencies" - which currently took up nearly 85 percent of the police force's time, he claimed. And Tom Haverford had sent a message marked urgent calling for the transformation of the East Side branch of the library into a city-owned and operated brewery-slash-nightclub - a project on which he'd be happy to take point. "P.S.: Gadgets are dope, so suck it, book jockeys!"
Chris shook his head. Fool's errands all. Nevertheless, the industrious spirit of these emails was tremendous!
After sorting through this special kind of junk mail, he marked other emails he'd have to deal with later without pausing to worry if it'd still be his job to deal with them. There was something from Ben, too. It was likely just something that had to do with the Public Works budget he was currently consulting on, but Ben-of course-was one of his favourite people in the entire universe. He could use a bit of that, a bit of Ben, right now, even if it came cloaked in seven layers of business. He clicked on it.
Chris,
I've looked over the revised budget proposal from Public Works. Refer to attachment for my notes.
I just also wanted to say again, good luck on the trial. It's going to be fine. And I do not say that as a witness. As a witness I'd just like to state that Leslie and I haven't discussed it, nor am I in bed with the prosecution in any way. Except literally. As there happens to be some overlap between the institution of the prosecution and the institution of my engagement. A personal union, if you will. Never mind, this isn't part of the official testimony …
But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
Chris smiled. He appreciated what Ben was trying to do. He was offering an olive branch ahead of the fact. In his own way, he was saying that this wouldn't be like last time, when Chris had put Leslie and Ben himself on trial.
≈
The way that had gone down between them was this. While Leslie had called it "Chris's rule" time and again, had rolled her eyes at its mere existence, had openly blamed Chris, Ben had known better.
“I think you began your relationship with Ben Wyatt earlier than you're saying, I believe that you certainly received special treatment, and I think that you may even guilty of bribery,” Chris had accused her, and Leslie had stormed at him that she'd prove none of it was true. In short, they'd yelled, but by the end of the day they were done yelling, and then they understood each other and that was that. Ben … had been more complicated.
For a few months after his resignation, he was strangely reserved with Chris. They barely spoke. And because it was too strange to think, after more than a decade on the road together, that this was the new order of things now that they weren't working together, Chris at first suspected that Ben resented him for having stood between him and Leslie. Sure, it was irrational. Chris wasn’t cruel. Things would have been much simpler if there had ever really been such a thing as “Chris's rule”. But it wasn’t hard to see why Ben might have lingering resentment towards Chris just the same.
After all, there had been that inexplicable streak in the early summer of 2011 when Ben had smiled so much and so easily and had cracked so many bad jokes that Chris had felt compelled to ask him, more than once, what vitamins he was taking. Even though he knew very well that Ben only took that one multi-vitamin, kind of reluctantly too, and only because you couldn’t be close to Chris Traeger for years on end and expect him not to add years to your life like that.
But the happiness had ended as quickly as it had come, and in the months before the trial, Ben had seemed to retreat back in on himself. The hardness had returned to the frown lines in his face, the rigidity to the way he carried himself. He had an even shorter fuse than usual when departments fell behind on their paperwork.
Ben, of course, was outstanding and terrific and deserved only the best all the time, and Chris would have made every effort humanly possible to ensure his happiness. But the crux of the matter was that this Ben, the one ensconced in his shell, the one who demanded competence and snapped at people when he didn't get it, the one who picked unenthusiastically at his lunch at Sue’s Salads, was so much closer to the man he'd known all these years.
The Ben who sat at his desk and smiled at his computer screen as he sent emails to the Parks Department, denying requests for additional funds for their community center, had been an aberration. A fluke. From Chris’s point of you, after twelve years on the road together, you might as well have missed him if you so much as squinted. And so, when the old Ben had returned, Chris hadn't been surprised. Actually, he'd started to wonder if he hadn't dreamt the other one up himself on an overdose of primrose.
The whole thing only made sense when Chris found out those emails to the Parks Department had been emails addressed to one "Snuggy-buggy" by one "Benjamin Netankissyou." And by then, well, by then it was way too late. Ben was out of a job before Chris knew what to think or how to talk him out of it.
On the Tuesday morning after the trial, he discovered that all of Ben's things had gone from the office. Chris knew for a fact that Ben hadn't been escorted out by security or anything dramatically drastic like that - he'd ordered them to stand down himself. Still - there had been no goodbyes. As he stood staring uncomprehendingly at Ben's empty desk, Chris thought he understood that, even just unconsciously, Ben might harbour a grudge towards Chris for having presented the obstacle between him and Leslie. The difference between loneliness and love. Or maybe it was just that Ben had chosen between Leslie and the job, and felt the job naturally included Chris. Chris didn't, couldn't blame him for it, not really. It wasn’t always easy to think of public servants as separate from the institutions they served. He decided it was probably best to leave Ben alone for a while.
But a couple of weeks later he heard Ben had hit a bit of a rough patch after resigning in disgrace. So Chris went to test the waters and found Ben in a state he’d never seen before. Looking ten years younger in his faded Letters to Cleo t-shirt and Doc Martens, utterly lost on a professional, yet giddy with happiness on a personal level. Chris felt strangely fatherly in his suit and tie and overcoat as he told Ben his new gastronomic entrepreneurship was producing the best ideas he’d ever heard of - though they might as well have sprung from the mind of Tom Haverford.
And he was more relieved than anybody in the world had ever been before when Ben finally stopped fidgeting like a hormonal teenager and they were able to have A Moment over herbal smoothies. “You can’t hide these things from your friends,” Chris said and realized belatedly that felt was confident in what he'd said. They were friends, still. Again.
After that, he stopped thinking that the problem was him, and started thinking maybe it was Ben himself. After all, he'd sort of blindsided Chris with the illicit relationship, and again with the resignation. Suddenly they weren't working together for the first time in over a decade. It was kind of Chris's fault, but it was kind of Ben's fault, too, and it wasn't what either of them had planned or wished for. And, crucially, he'd seen him do it many, many times before: when Ben made a mess of things, his instinct was to retreat.
Herbal smoothies aside, things didn't go back to the way they were right away. But Chris knew he just had to give it time. He was swamped anyway. There was no City Treasurer at the time. Ben had eliminated the position when they'd slashed Pawnee's budget and had allocated the duties to the newly created - and lower paid - position of Assistant City Manager, which he'd taken on himself. After losing Ben, Chris was stuck with both jobs, and the hunt for a replacement. Then he lost Millicent, too, and for a few weeks cared very little about anything.
He pulled himself back out of the funk, gradually, agonizingly, with the help of the (magnificent!) April Ludgate and the (outstanding!) Champion. And when he didn't feel quite so much like he was wading through quicksand anymore, when the world stopped appearing to him in a sickening shade of soupy sepia, and when he stopped feeling a sharp pain in his chest every time he saw Ben smile at Leslie, Chris called Ben. When they got together over salad at Sue’s for the first time in months, Ben wolfed his down so enthusiastically that Chris had to bite his tongue on a comment about benefits of chewing each bite 20 times. “Hey man, I’m glad you’re doing better," Ben said, and then added wryly, "Your smile has not had that normal universal and rigorous, incomprehensible Chris Traeger sense of fun in a while.”
They also hatched the most ingenious plan ever conceived - a rival to the most shrewd scheme that had ever existed, the one that had allowed them both to keep their jobs and marked the beginning of their partnership all those years ago. Ben would consult with city hall on some of the more essential City Treasurer duties without actually being in the public service, per se. He could do most of it from home or from his office at PCC, and it would nicely supplement his lecturer salary. Chris could hire himself a second assistant, but wouldn’t actually have to train anybody to do the more complicated calculations. With this resumption of their working relationship the world had finally returned to normal.
≈
Chris read the email again as he took a sip of the green liquid in his glass.
… But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
He chuckled and then he chugged the rest of his smoothie and felt his chest expand a little. Yes, it was good to have friends. The best!
It was amusing, too, that it sounded like Ben and Leslie's experiment in living together was proving no less of an awkward balancing act than the other new roommate constellation he'd gotten a glimpse of this past weekend …
++++
Saturday
"Ann Perkins! Hey!"
Perkins? "Um … hey. Chris." She hadn't been Ann Perkins in a while. But correcting that felt … wrong, under the circumstances.
He wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't he saying anything? Was she supposed to invite him in? She wouldn't do that. She didn't want him here, hadn't invited him. So why was he here? He was just getting himself in deeper and deeper. Was that what he wanted? It couldn't be.
Ann folded her arms across her chest. Chris raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. She didn't smile. He did. It made her feel self-conscious about the flour making her hair look white and grey in patches.
"So, I see you've moved in already. That was fast."
"Yeah, hasn't it?" Damn, now she was running her hand awkwardly through her hair, creating a cloud of white dust around her head. Chris's lip twitched.
"Was there actually something you wanted or did you just come here to check up on me?"
Ouch. That came out a lot harsher than was justified. Chris's eyes widened, his smile faltering for a second before he recovered it. "No, Ann, of course I'm not … checking up on you? I'm just picking up Champion. We've got an outing planned - and - it's going to be off the charts!"
"Oh. Of course. Right." She didn't really understand Chris's attachment to a dog that wasn't his. Sure, whenever she'd seen him around Champion, he'd been cuddled up with the dog somewhere, but Chris was overzealous about so many things. Who knew what actually mattered to him, except six-hour meditation torture sessions …
"Champion! Hey champion!" she yelled into the house and whistled. He came running immediately, a large three-legged dog enveloped in a cloud of white dust, enthusiastically wagging his tail.
"Hello boy!" Chris squatted down next to the dog, who proceeded to lick his face enthusiastically. "Who's a good boy? You are! Yes, you are," Chris was saying. But if Champion could speak he might have been saying the same, Ann thought. It was … sweet actually.
She didn't realize she'd been standing there watching for maybe ten seconds before Chris raised his eyes to her.
"What happened to the two of you?" he said as he ran his hands against the grain through Champion's fur to get rid of the flour, which was rising up and enveloping the three of them in a kind of fog. Ann sneezed.
"Been trying to teach Andy to bake. Things got out of hand when April showed up looking for the orange juice. She lives to destroy. Poor Champion was just collateral damage." She had to laugh as she said it. The kitchen floor was covered in flour half an inch thick. And who knew what April and Andy were up to even now to make it worse. She imagined an entire floor of cake batter. It would be sticky at first, making each step stringy, like wading through the nastiest swamp you could imagine. But then the inevitable batter residue would harden and cling to the tiles forever…
You either had to laugh with them or yell and move out, she'd decided. But, being honest with herself, she had to admit, if it felt good to laugh, it felt even better to be able to fret about things that didn't really matter. Like a kitchen you couldn't step foot in or how she was going to guilt April and Andy into cleaning up the mess.
"I see. Well…"
Just then Andy surfaced, crossing the living room at a run. April was hard on his heels wielding the marshmallow shooter, but it was loaded with m&ms and Andy gave a startled yelp every time a salvo of the small hard candies hit his back.
"Ouch. Ah. That really stings. Have mercy, Mrs. Snakehole, I beg you!" He turned around with a pleading expression, but kept moving backwards.
"You should have thought of that before you betrayed me to The Shadow, Agent Macklin!" April shot him in the gut. But then she noticed Chris, Ann, and Champion by the door and stopped abruptly. Andy took advantage of the interruption and sprinted to safety in Ann's bedroom. Great. So much for keeping the flour footprints out of there, Ann thought.
She was about to yell after him that he had better vacuum all traces of the stuff from the carpet before she set foot in there again, but April cut off that train of thought.
"What are you guys doing?" she asked.
"Hm? Oh, nothing." Chris and Ann said in unison. He smiled and she cringed a little.
"I was just picking up Champion," Chris said mildly. "I have the most amazing outing planned for the two of us. First, I thought we would check out the new dog park, then a full-body grooming session at Groovy Growl-Free Grooming, and - spoiler alert, Champion - I bought you calf liver for dinner…"
"Great. Well. How about you get on with it. Aren't the two of you … I don't know … not supposed to hang out together right now?"
Ann could feel herself blush, but Chris just said, "April Ludgate, you are absolutely right. And - I commend your virtuous spirit."
April made a face and waved him off, brandishing her m&m shooter again. Chris reached for Champion's leash on a clothes hanger by the door, leashed the dog and began leading him away. "Bye Ann," he said over his shoulder. April slammed the front door before Ann got a chance to reply.
++++
The phone rang. It must have been the fifteenth time today. Which made it kind of a slow Saturday for Councilwoman Knope, Ben knew.
It was 5 p.m. She was standing in the kitchen, one-handedly fiddling with the coffee maker.
"Uh-huh," Leslie said into the phone. "Well, did you actually read the article?"
Ben reached over and inserted the coffee filter. Leslie sent him a grateful smile.
"Three times, really? Great job." There was a pause. Leslie nodded as the other side gave what seemed to be some kind of lengthy explanation.
"No, no. I think it's also important what you think of it, if not more important. What did you think when you read it?"
She listened more briefly this time. Ben checked the water level, then filled the filter with four heaping spoons of coffee to match. He raised his eyebrows when Leslie burst into laughter.
"Well … okay. How about tomorrow? Meet me at J.J.'s and we'll go over it."
The other side, a man's voice, was obviously excited by this idea. Ben still couldn't understand what he said, but the muffled sounds had gotten louder and picked up speed.
"Alright. Yeah. That's great. See you tomorrow." She hung up.
"Who was that?" Ben asked.
"Oh just … Andy."
"Andy? What are you … " Something clicked in his head. "Leslie." His voice had taken on the warning tone he'd had to use more times than he could count when he'd been trying to get her elected to the City Council and she'd regularly insisted on pursuing a campaign strategy that defied all logic. Of course, he wasn't her campaign manager now, but if this was about what he suspected it to be about …
She was silent. A bad sign.
"Please tell me you aren't doing his classwork for him."
"Of course not! I would never … I'm just helping him a little. You know, suggesting an essay topic and what material to use. Possibly helping him reach some conclusions and polishing the writing just a little bit …"
… yes, it was warranted indeed. Intro to Local Political Affairs was tough for a reason. Ben's class was difficult for the same reason his budget cuts had been the most efficient in Indiana for more than a decade. He had a reputation to uphold. A reputation based on his belief that most things worth doing were hard as well as unpopular.
His hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You can't do this."
"Ben-"
"Leslie, no. If Andy can't pass my class on his own, then he shouldn't pass it at all. There's a reason only about half a dozen people attend that class and I'd kind of … you know, like to keep it that way."
"There's nothing wrong with a little help as long as he's learning something."
Said as if he was an idiot for not realizing as much. He gritted his teeth. He had to pick his battles though.
"Fine. But there's everything wrong with any help from you."
She bristled at that. Ben could see it in her eyes, in the sharp, straight line of her mouth. Still, he wouldn't, couldn't back down on this.
"I'm highly qualified, I assure you," Leslie snapped.
"Come on, it's got nothing to do with … It's just not ethical, Leslie."
"It's fine. This is Andy's job, it's only natural he would write about what goes on in city hall when it's pertinent for class!"
"Maybe so, but not with all the help and guidance - or should I say, ghostwriting- of his teacher's fiancée!"
"Agh!" She threw up her arms, exasperated. "You would never even have known about this if you hadn't listened while I was on the phone! Mean Professor Ben, I'm starting to understand why they call you that!"
Ben inhaled sharply. Her steadfast belief in her own sneakiness aside, it was preposterous. She had to know that he'd recognize her writing style anywhere, surely. From a mile away and upwind and blindfolded. It was discursive and flowery with surprising moments of hard-hitting incisiveness. He envied it, actually. But he hated shouting matches, always had. On the job he'd learned to take them on and then shrug them off, but the personal ones still left him feeling drained and deflated and depressed.
"Just … don't interfere with my work, okay? I resigned in disgrace once. I'd rather not repeat the experience," Ben said. He sounded somehow both tentative and angry. It was a mixture all members of the Wyatt family had perfected, he thought with a surge of self-loathing. Bravo. Leslie was silent. It was probably the reminder of his noble act of self-sacrifice, so-called, that had gotten to her. A cheap shot. That was the problem with being non-confrontational. When you had to fight, you couldn't manage to fight clean.
To calm himself, and maybe try to defuse the situation, he pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat.
That was a mistake. Without looking, he'd sat on a stack of papers - he spotted something about an upcoming City Council decision on the refurbishment of Pawnee's middle schools as it went flying across the floor with the rest of the top half of the stack. He could hear the crackle of the other half-stack of papers being creased as he sat on them.
"Dammit. Everything is … everywhere!" He shot up again, picked up the papers that lay scattered and tossed them on the table. Her clutter intruded at the worst times.
He was frustrated with her stubbornness, her unwillingness to see his point of view as Andy's teacher. Felt embarrassed about the papers. And claustrophobic about this entire confrontation. Leslie was still glaring daggers at him as she assessed the damage from a distance. She still wasn't saying anything either and it was unnerving.
"You could, you know … keep those somewhere. Not in the kitchen."
He tried his best to sound neutral, but his tone fell on deaf ears.
"I have a system, Ben."
Something inside him snapped.
"Sure. Of course. You get to have a system. Everything's fair game as long as nobody messes with your system, is that it?"
Too far. He was generalizing, turning this into a free for all on all sorts of principles on which their relationship was, or should be, based. It no longer had anything to do with either his class or her clutter. He knew it as the words came out of his mouth, but it was too late to stop them.
"No. That's not … That doesn't … You and your… system! Don't act like everything's going my way when it's obvious to anybody with eyes in their head that's such BULLSHIT!"
She gesticulated wildly around the room, her meaning unmistakable.
Leslie was as fine without him living here as she was with it, maybe even more so. It wasn't like he didn't know that it had taken Ann's predicament for them to move in together, but it stung plenty all the same.
Ben stared at Leslie, blankly. She stared back. There was nothing more to say. They'd each taken a stab at the other and twisted their knives. Stalemate.
After a few agonizing seconds, she broke the gaze, brought her attention to the papers. With her back to him, she lifted the creased half-stack from the chair to the table and started putting the rest of the papers back in order. He turned on his heel and left the room without looking back.
++++
Sunday
Leslie was still convinced that helping Andy was the right thing to do, but even so, she thought the door to J.J.'s Diner felt unusually heavy this morning. Like there was something trying to prevent her from entering and accomplishing her mission here. But she managed it, of course.
She spotted Andy in a booth by the cake display. He was waving at her.
"Hey boss, how's it going?" he said as she slid onto the bench opposite him.
"Hey. So, your essay? What's the problem with it?"
Andy looked at her, surprised. Leslie supposed it was because she seldom treated her assistant so businesslike. They always had fun conspiring to produce his academic success. Whatever. She wasn't in the mood for fun. She just wanted to get this over with, so she could go and figure out a plan for making up with Ben.
Andy's glasses case snapped shut on his fingers. "Ouch," he said and put on the glasses. Wearing them was apparently some kind of prerequisite for engaging with the dangerous and confusing world of academia.
When they'd spent an hour and a half on Andy's assignment, Leslie thought she was beginning to understand why Ben thought helping Andy was the same as doing the work for him. Never mind several months of concentrated work on the issue from the very office in which he sat - Andy had managed to misunderstand just what the women's representative Leslie was trying to get the City Council to reinstate actually was. Because his class had recently discussed the national women's health debate, he now thought Claudia Falkner was some kind of doctor-slash-drug store employee who would provide Pawnee's public servants with an unlimited free supply of contraceptives, tampons, as well as gynaecological exams and on-demand abortions - all of which he was enthusiastically in favour of. Though he passionately and rather convincingly argued that all of Pawnee's women should have the benefit of Falkner's services and not just city employees.
The "essay" he had produced on the subject fell somewhat short of 200 words. 2000 was the required minimum. Leslie pointed out that he'd forgotten a zero when he gauged his fulfillment of Ben's requirement. Andy's eyes went wide as saucers. And when she finally managed to explain to him that Falkner's powers were political and psychological rather than medical, he looked surprised and slightly bummed. Leslie sighed.
"What's up?" Andy asked.
"Hm?"
"Oh, you're out of whipped cream. Duh." He punched his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Hey Marta, can I get another can of whipped cream for my fabulous lady boss here?"
"Coming right up," said the waitress.
Leslie couldn't suppress a grin. Even though she was supposed to be in a terrible mood and Andy's lack of progress wasn't helping, whipped cream always did. Thank goodness her assistant could always be counted on for the most important things. That was why she shouldn't let him down.
"How are things working out with Ann?" she asked as Andy gallantly topped off her half full coffee cup with whipped cream. The coffee itself was cold. She'd just been spooning one serving of whipped cream after another off it for the last hour.
"Great! Yesterday we had a flour fight in the kitchen. Ann was actually teaching me to bake apple pie. Super fun." He giggled. "Except April started shooting me with m&ms and now I've got bruises all over. See?"
He lifted his shirt, and sure enough, his torso was sprinkled with little blue spots.
Leslie raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, sounds great."
"Yeah." He took a bite of his brownie and wobbled his head back and forth a few times as if contemplating a weighty matter. "But then Ann got kind of fed up because the kitchen floor and, you know, also flour footprints all over. And her bedroom is a sacred space, she said. And she threatened to move out. So I cleaned up. Ann luuurves it when I clean up!"
Oh yeah, Leslie remembered how excited Ann had gotten when Andy had cleaned her whole house on crutches, way back when she and Leslie had only been friends for a few weeks. So long ago that Leslie hadn't wasted a thought on their history when she suggested Ann move in with Andy and April. Or on the time after that, when April had kind of hated Ann's guts …
"And April and Ann - getting along just fine?" she asked.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Pretty good! Even though Ann said 'I won't clean this, I wasn't the one who started it and I'm not you guys' maid.' And then April started doing Janet Snakehole again and screamed, 'I'll never cook for you and I'll never clean for you either!', and she chucked the rest of the m&ms on the floor and I stepped on 'em and slipped and fell on my back. Ann made me put ice on it for an hour and after that I cleaned it all up."
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "But anyway, yeah, they're getting along pretty well. Last night we ordered pizza and Ann wanted to watch this show Downtown Alley so we did. And then when it was over she went on about how she was glad to get her old last name back now. 'I never liked the sound of Butler anyway - something so servile about it,' she said."
"Hm," Leslie said.
"Yeah, so I said that actually Butler sounded kinda badass to me because of-"
"Judith Butler!" Andy and Leslie finished in unison.
"That's right!" Andy said, beaming. "Sex problems."
"What?"
"Her book. Sex Problems."
"Gender Trouble, Andy."
"Yeah, same thing. Her book Gender Trouble is … considered to be one of the canonical texts of queer theory and postmodern-slash-poststructural feminism." He looked around the diner like he was waiting for something delicious to come his way.
"You haven't read Gender Trouble."
"Nah."
"Wikipedia?"
"Yup," he shrugged. "Anyway, then April said 'shut up' and that Perkins and Butler both sound stupid, but Butler's worse. And Ann said, 'Thank you, April', and went to bed."
"I see," Leslie said, laughing. She might be in terrible mood today, but it was hard to keep a straight face while listening to a recount of domestic drama chez Andy. Plus, it felt good to laugh. She could practically feel the knots in her shoulders loosening themselves.
"I got into a bad fight with Ben last night," she admitted because what the hell. She always felt better after talking things through with someone anyway.
"Ooooh, that's why you've been all grumpy and, you know, sad-faced today!" With two fingers he pulled down the corners of his mouth.
"Mhm."
"Sex problems?"
"What?! No!" They both burst out laughing. "Andy!" But she couldn't talk. Uncontrollable giggles had her doubled over. Andy was knocking his fist on the table as he laughed. Every time they seemed to have gotten it all out of their system, they looked at each other's faces and another round of chortling followed. A good five minutes passed before Leslie had composed herself enough to wipe the tears off her cheeks. Her stomach hurt as if she'd been doing crunches. Leave it to Andy to cheer her up. She underestimated him sometimes, she thought.
"No,” she said. Thinking back on the fight brought an end to her mirth. “We just- we fought over … something stupid. Or not stupid, but just- A difference of opinion. Anyway, it doesn't matter. But then it got out of hand and I feel like we were yelling at each other about … about much more important things without actually naming the things of course and- It was just ugly. We didn't even say goodnight, and before I came here this morning, Ben left to go for a run. So that makes it kind of serious, don't you think, because I don't think he's gone for a run maybe ever, at least I know for a fact he hasn't since he stepped foot in Pawnee-"
"Hm. Well, what was 'at issue'?" Andy asked, using finger quotes - presumably to emphasize that he was making an effort to be mature and listen attentively.
"Ahh … I don't know. I think I was just yelling at him because he made it out like I'm always getting my way and not him. But it's not true, because I knew he wanted to move in, just, you know, for example- and, well, he's finally moved in hasn't he?"
She was getting agitated again as yesterday's feelings came bubbling back to the surface. But with the distance of a sleepless night with Ben's back turned to her, Leslie couldn't deny that that wasn't what she'd really gotten so upset about. At the end of the day, she liked having him live with her, she really did. She propped her elbows on the table and her forehead on her hands and studied the tabletop's woodgrain. The way it disappeared under the green cloth placemat.
"Really I think I was just feeling guilty. I don't know, I guess he hit a nerve or something? Because I know I'm making him wait. I made him wait to move in until it was kind of convenient - what with Ann needing a new place to live and because she couldn't come stay with me because of the trial. And I'm still making him wait for … you know … getting married, the wedding, all that stuff. I know I haven't brought it up in months and it's totally my fault and I meant to do it real soon but I've been so busy with everything else that I haven't yet … and god, I'm such a shit."
She actually banged her head on the table a couple times.
"Aw, Leslie," Andy said and patted the top of her head. "I'm sure it'll work out. I mean, I know you love Ben, right?"
Leslie looked at him and nodded fervently, bit her lip.
"And I know Ben luuurves you. So what I think is, as long as you've got that, you can work it out. Maybe you should just go talk to him. And you know, weddings-" He made a wry face.
"Don't overthink it?" Leslie asked.
"That's right! Works best that way, that's what I think."
Leslie propped her cheek on one fist and studied him. "Thanks, Andy," she said. "Did anyone ever tell you you give really good advice?"
"Hah! Yes! Ann, actually. But I'm even better together with April."
"I bet you are." She ate a large spoonful of whipped cream, let it dissolve on her tongue as she closed her eyes and savoured the fluffy sweetness. Then she clapped her hands and said, "Okay, let's knock out the rest of this essay, shall we?"
But Andy waved her off. "Eh, I'm good. I can do the rest on my own."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah, you should go make out with Ben. Make up. Then make out."
Leslie chuckled, but … "Andy, I'm happy to help."
"You did. So much, Leslie, I can't never even hope to repay you. But if you do everything I think Ben might be able to tell anyway. I mean, he just might. Unless we disguise it somehow. But no, no, that would just take even more extra work probably. So what I think is I'll just write until it's two thousand words, not two hundred.” He knocked his fist against his forehead as if to hammer home the point. “Two thousand exactly and then I'll stop and give it to him tomorrow. See what happens."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. At least I'll have given it a shot, right? Challenge yourself!" He pumped a fist in the air, then looked at her and shrugged. "Ron says that's important."
"Well, alright then. Okay. I guess. If that's what you want." Leslie left 20 dollars on the table and got up. "Guess I'll go home then. Right. Okay. Walking away now."
Walking towards the door, she turned around. "Last chance. No?"
Andy just shook his head, smiling, and bent over the notepaper on the table.
++++
"Ben!" Leslie called as she entered the house. No answer. That was strange. His car was in the driveway. Either he wasn't speaking to her or he still- No, no way could he still be jogging. She wasn't marrying Chris Traeger after all.
Upstairs, she passed the bathroom door and there was the sound of water gently splashing. That explained it. She paused outside the door for a minute, trying to decide if she should ambush him in the bath or wait till he came out. But it could be hours before then. At least one. But possibly two. Depending on how long he'd been in there already.
"I can feel you hovering there, Leslie," Ben said. The sound was muffled by the door, but even so, he sounded glum.
Taking a deep breath, Leslie pushed open the bathroom door. "Hey," she said. "Sorry."
"Hey," he sighed from the bathtub. He had his head propped on the edge of the tub, a washcloth covering his eyes. His body was completely submerged in the water and the copious amount of foam covering the surface.
"Ben."
"Mhhyeah. What's up?" He didn't sound at all like he cared to hear what was up. He still wasn't looking at her either.
She sat on the edge of the tub. Wetness seeped through her jeans where the fabric touched the ceramic, at her butt and the underside of her left thigh.
"I really am sorry," she said.
Finally, his hand came up out of the water and pulled the washcloth off his face. His eyes, when they met hers, were hard, guarded.
"You still went and met with Andy. Didn't you?" It occurred to her that this was why he'd gone running. He hadn't wanted to know if she left. The meeting had run on too long for that though. It was past noon now. No use denying it.
"I did."
"Leslie-"
"No, listen. I did go meet with Andy. And I did help him with the essay, somewhat. And I still think it's fair enough given that it's on local affairs and I happen to be a key player in them and, you know, more power to him for making use of all his resources-"
Ben shifted. His right knee broke through the water and bubbles then submerged again. Little waves hit the edges of the tub, soaking the wet parts of Leslie's jeans more thoroughly.
"But! But here's the thing. I gave him a few pointers but then we started talking about other things and anyway, he actually said he wanted to write it on his own. Challenge himself. Advice from Ron."
Ben's expression didn't change, but she thought she saw something softening in his eyes. Just a little. Like thaw hitting a glacier.
"So I, I kind of … while we were working on it, I kind of understood why you thought I'd end up doing all the work, actually. But now … you'll see. It's going to be nothing like I ghostwrote it. Kind of a shame actually, if you think about it."
The corner of his lip twitched. A single drop of water running down a block of ice.
"Anyway, that's not even what I wanted to talk to you about, really."
"It's not?"
Leslie reached into the water and took his hand, drenching the edge of her rolled up sweater sleeve. "No." She met his eyes and felt the air getting warmer. A warm front approaching that would mark the end of winter.
As she entwined their fingers, Leslie felt a surge of something, a feeling both nauseating and lovely, that shot from her belly down to her toes and then up into her throat. It seemed to lodge itself there, for when she spoke her voice was slightly hoarse.
"I've been thinking. And I think we should- I mean, let's-" No, that wouldn't do at all. She was speaking to their joined hands, and this was far too important for that. She forced herself to raise her head and look straight into his eyes. They were kind now. There was something flickering in them, she thought. A tiny flame, reignited.
"Ben, will you marry me?" Saying it spread a grin across her face. She couldn't help it, she gave a tiny chuckle, too.
Ben's other hand shot up from the water and curled around the back of her neck. The entire front of her torso got soaked as he raised himself up just enough to pull her face down to his. Water, dripping from his hand, ran down the back of her sweater and there was the imprint of his wet hand in her hair. Leslie braced the hand that wasn't holding his on his shoulder as he kissed her thoroughly. It was a long kiss, deep and warm, like a bonfire on a chilly night.
When he broke it, he held her face close to his. "Yes, if that's what you want. And if you won't lose your mind over it," he said.
"It is." She kissed him again. Faster this time, and more urgently. "And I won't. When can we get started?" she asked when she came up for air.
He laughed and released her neck. She straightened, looked down her front. The drenched sweater, the expanding wet spots on her jeans. "I'm soaked."
"Oh my, whatever can we do about that?" Ben grinned. He disentangled their fingers and circled his thumb across her palm. A volcano sprung to life in her gut. Lava bubbling, pressure building.
Her wet sweater made a flopping sound as it hit the floor. Her jeans, bra, and underpants joined it in an untidy pile. At least two gallons of water were displaced on the floor as she climbed on top of Ben. His erection pressed against her thigh. He kissed her breasts, sucked on her nipples, and pressed a thumb to her clitoris.
But when she shifted to align their hips, the back of Ben's head hit the edge of the bathtub, hard. "Ow," he said and shook his head as if seeing stars.
He resumed kissing her but she couldn't find any place to put her knees without either jamming them into some part of him or having them uncomfortably pressed against the ceramic. The tub was small enough that her entire back and sides were above the waterline, too. The exposure of her wet skin to the bathroom air caused a shiver.
Ben shovelled a handful of warm bathwater across her back, which made her tremble in a good way. Leslie kissed the tip of his nose, both cheeks, and the expanse of his throat, relishing in the sandpapery feel of the stubble there. He hadn't shaved today yet.
"What do you think? Move this over to bed?" she asked.
"Definitely."
They hastily towelled each other off and Ben cursed when he tripped over a stack of Pawnee municipal code books from the 1980s on their way to the bed. Those had found a temporary home on the floor of the upstairs hallway after he'd banished them from the main bookshelf in the living room on Friday.
"Really, Leslie-"
"Those are important," she explained as she pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. "Did you know that any woman caught whistling can be jailed for burlesque acts in this town? And that that statute was established not in the 1880s, like you might expect, but the 1980s- "
"Uh-huh." He said between kisses.
"You did?"
"Ah…" He positioned himself and pushed inside her. "…no." They started moving together, rapidly picking up speed.
"Good thing you have a smart and capable …. ahh … not to mention well-equipped councilwoman at your disposal … ooooh….oh God! Ben!" They both climaxed within quick succession of each other.
"… to point out such important facts to you," she finished as she started drawing circles on his chest with her fingers. Shudders were still coursing through Ben in waves, each less intense than the one before. Smoke continued to rise from the volcano. The spilt lava, crusting over, gave off a faint afterglow.
"What are you doing?" Leslie asked when she woke up next to him.
Ben was sitting up in bed, typing something on his laptop. Outside, the sunlight had taken on the characteristic orange tint of late afternoon. She must have been asleep for hours. Her body felt heavy the way it did when you weren't used to taking naps but had just taken an accidental one. Ben reached over and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.
"Oh, just emailing Chris. Saying good luck tomorrow, you know."
"Hm, right." The trial, which she had somehow managed not to lose a thought on all day. She sat up. The mention of it gave her a jolt of urgency, called all her muscles to attention. The feeling was entirely misplaced, since there was nothing she could do about it now. Her final strategy was written down in her padfolio, downstairs on the coffee table. But she couldn't lie still either.
"You should mention your run today. That would make his day."
"No way. He'd force me to go with him. And I'm already getting sore! That was just a very bad idea all around."
Leslie chuckled.
"But I am telling him we should get together for dinner sometime after the trial. If that's all right with you."
"Fine. Oh, tell him when he comes over, I'll make my infamous cheesecake just for him! That'll really make his day."
They laughed as they both imagined Chris's expression of simultaneous delight and horror. Ben finished typing and hit send, leaned over and kissed her lips.
++++
Monday
… But I have finally moved in with Leslie, as you know. And it's been an interesting 48 hours. Fascinating. A bit nerve-wrecking, too. Anyway, the point is, you should come over for dinner sometime when all this is over. Of course, Leslie might force-feed you cheesecake, but hey, it'll be fun.
Chin up. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ben
Chris sighed and shook his head. His heart sank a little as he stirred bee pollen into a low-fat natural yogurt. It was good to have friends. And their adjustments to living together were an amusing spectacle to watch from afar, no question.
But that in itself was sad, too. Things could only be that awkward if you had people around. And people? People were the best.
Seeing his friends, he felt like everyone had people to share their lives with, their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and setbacks and tragedies. To play Boggle with at all hours and cook dinner for and to hold them together like they weren't just molecules floating around in random patterns, devoid of meaning. And Chris? He had recently had a glimpse of Ann's disillusionment and misfortune - an experience for which he was about to pay dearly, he thought. Now he was back to having what he'd always had. 2.8 percent body fat and an apartment with a palm tree and a stone Buddha.
He took a spoonful of the yogurt, but it appeared to have no taste at all. So he sat watching the seconds tick away on his wall clock. When the clock hit eight, he put on his coat, ran a hand through his hair, and studied his face in the mirror. Chris plastered on a smile that almost immediately degraded into a grimace, shut the door behind him, and started walking towards city hall.
TBC