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She has no idea how Ann convinced her to come to this party. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of stale beer, sweat and what obviously was marijuana as she tried to navigate herself through the crowded frat house. In her hand was a red cup, filled with some sweet concoction that Ann had poured into her cup despite all of her protests.
She’s waiting in the kitchen for Ann, sipping on the coffee-tasting liquor and wondering if there was whipped cream anywhere in this kitchen.
It would probably be in the fridge, but there was a couple intensely making up against it and wait -- yup, those are hands up her skirt and now she is officially giving up all hope of whipped cream.
(Well, at least whipped cream that hasn’t been tainted.)
“Hey Les!”
“Oh Ann, thank God, I don’t want to watch two very inebriated people have sex, thank you very mu--- Oh, hey Chris.” Leslie waves awkwardly to Ann’s boyfriend. She’s only met him a handful of times and most of those times were during more awkward scenarios so she’s not sure how she should act.
Should she hug him? Would hugging him be too weird? Or does the hugging become less weird because she’s seen his ass pounding into her best friend? (Someone should really write a book on how to deal with awkward I-walked-into-my-best-friend-and-her-boyfriend-having-sex-on-our-couch-but-I’ve-never-even-met-him situations. Maybe she should be the first one.)
“Leslie Knope!” Chris says way too enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her awkwardly. Leslie pats him on the back, uncomfortable at the contact when she remembers that this guy has had sex with Ann on their kitchen counter.
Ann looks giddy, the same looks she gets when she’s watching Project Runway and has an idea about a dress made out of cling wrap. (Leslie Knope is no dream crusher, but a dress made out of clear plastic?)
It was Ann’s 'I have a good idea' look. The same look she gets when she sets Leslie up with some random guy she swears is perfect for her, but instead asks his mother to call her to dump her after their third date.
Oh no.
She needs to get out of here, fast.
“I’m actually feeling really tired and I think I’m going to head out because those idea binders don’t just color coordinate themselves---“ Leslie moves to leave but Ann’s hand tugs her back, a scary look her in eye she only reserves for when she really thinks Leslie is doing something wrong.
Dammit. (For a sweet, joyful starfish, Ann can be really mean and scary when she wants to be.)
“So, Chris and I actually wanted to introduce you to someone. So do you remember Chris’ roommate?” Leslie suppresses the urge to groan because she is not in the mood to be set-up. At least not right now, when a certain guy with certain political opinions on fiscal responsibility and a cute butt is all she can think about.
She should have known there was an ulterior motive to Ann wanting her to come to this party in exchange for watching the last two Harry Potter movies with her.
“Yeah, the quiet one who walked in the two of you during your sex-a-thon in the shower?”
“Please don’t remind me.” That voice was familiar. Leslie cranes her neck find the source of that voice when Ben from the coffee shop suddenly steps out from behind Chris, a disgusted expression on his face.
“I am still having a hard time getting that image out of my head when I shower. Not to mention trying not to touch the tiles.”
“Leslie Knope, this is Ben Wyatt, my best friend and literally the most amazing accountant-to-be in Indiana.”
Ben Wyatt?
Ben from the coffee shop was Chris’, who happened to be Ann's boyfriend, roommate?
“Hi.” He smiles, sticking out his hand that is unoccupied with his own cup. Leslie blushes, taking his hand and shaking it.
“We’ve actually met.”
“Oh, I know. Ben was actually just telling me about the cute blonde which is unusual because Ben usually prefers tall brune--- Ow! What was that for?” Ben quickly punches Chris before taking him by the shirt and dragging him away, leaving the two girls giggling in their wake.
“See, now aren’t you glad I dragged you here?”
Ben quickly glances at their direction, catching her eye and letting a smile play on his lips. She ducks her head and she feels her cheeks warm and okay, fine, she was mildly glad that Ann had forcibly pushed her out of the door.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not going to watch the Deathly Hallows movies with me. You’re going to love them.”
“Really? Even if Ben nails you I still need to watch that?”
Leslie laughs, cheeks dusted with a light pink at the thought of Ben, taut body, tight ass and all, pressing her back into the soft lavender sheets in their apartment. She imagines a faint light coming from her lamp illuminating the edges of his muscles, rippling with effort as he hovered over her. He would lean down and his lips would brush against her ear, whispering things she would never dare utter outside of the confines of her bed. She imagines having his sweaty skin slide against hers and his fingers brush hotly against…
“Hey, can I get you a drink?” Ben’s voice breaks through her inappropriate daydreams and she ducks her head, trying to quell down how the alcohol and thinking of Ben has every cell in her body vibrating hotly.
“That would be great, thank you.” He plucks the almost empty cup out of her hand and Ann shoots her a wink from her spot next to Chris.
If she survived this night without combusting, she thinks it would be a miracle.
---
He laughs, his warm breath tickling her ear and escaping into the cool winter air. She doesn’t know how they came to be, standing outside on the porch with their half-empty drinks abandoned on the banister. His warm skin was pressed up against hers, not entirely sure whether it was the alcohol or him that was providing the warmth.
“You’re not serious are you?” He asks. Leslie nods vigorously, completely serious. How would you not be serious about waffles and whipped cream?
“You’ve spent over $1000 in the last year on waffles alone?”
“Yeah! Breakfast food is the best. I could spend 2,000 dollars on breakfast food! I probably already have.” She’s a little drunk. She knows she’s a little drunk. Her head is light and words flow easily between them, the world slowly blurring at the edges.
“Well, you’re right, breakfast food is definitely not something to joke around with, but I prefer blueberry pancakes to waffles.”
“That’s because you haven’t tried JJ’s waffles.”
He cocks his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and God, he really needs to stop doing the whole adorable thing with his face because it’s making her want to do things to him.
Very inappropriate things.
“JJ’s waffles?”
“Yeah, they’re the diner in my hometown, Pawnee. Pawnee has the best food, the best people and is overall just the best down in America, possibly the world. I want to work in our government when I graduate college, which is why I’m taking History with a minor in Political Science.”
“Wow. You really love your hometown.” He looks mildly amused, but not in a condescending way that most people looked at her with when she talked about wanting to stay in her small town.
Everyone always had dreams about moving to the big city, but she always found it oddly poetic to fall in love with the small town.
“I do. I mean, it’s full of obese toddlers and citizens who care way too much, but at least they care. That doesn’t happen a lot nowadays.”
“You’re right. It’s okay, I come from a town that’s probably way smaller than yours and I know what it feels like for them to care too much.”
“Oh really? Where from?”
“I’m from Partridge, Minnesota.”
Partridge, Minnesota?
That’s when it all suddenly clicks.
Why his name, Ben Wyatt, was so familiar.
“Oh my God.”
“Yup.”
“You’re Benji Wyatt.”
Benji Wyatt. She remembers seeing his name on the news one day before going to school and immediately thinking how lucky he was for being mayor of his small town at 18. In her senior year of high school, his picture that she had clipped out of a newspaper was stuck in her locker and she had this stupidly big crush on the teenage mayor of a small town in Minnesota.
“I had your picture in my locker!”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out by that.” He teases, but Leslie doesn’t notice the way he begins to nervously pick at the label of his beer.
“I think you should just be flattered. After all, I wanted to be just like you.”
“You really shouldn’t have.”
“Why not? You were elected mayor of your town at 18! That’s more than a lot of teenagers have done.”
“Well, it wasn’t really the best experience.” Suddenly, Leslie senses the sadness and tension that radiates from Ben. His shoulders were hunched, his body seemingly trying to make itself smaller as he presses his half-finished beer with the peeling label to his lips.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She suddenly feels insensitive, like she should have known that this would be hard for Ben to talk about. Instead, Ben waves his hands, trying to brush off the subject like it wasn’t a big deal when it clearly was.
“No, no, you didn’t know. Not a lot of people do and I usually tend to keep it that way. So far in my four years at Indiana, I think only you’ve pieced it together.”
“Do you not want people to know?”
Ben stares at her like she’s grown three heads.
“You don’t know what happened, do you?”
Leslie shakes her head and briefly regrets not following what happened with the teenage mayor after she had gotten her first boyfriend two weeks later.
“Well, after two months I pretty much ran the place into the ground and got impeached. The worst part? My parents actually grounded me.”
Leslie can’t help but giggle and Ben pokes playfully at her side.
“Oh, that makes you laugh, huh?”
“I can’t help it. I can’t believe your parents actually grounded you.”
“Yeah well, maybe it was a blessing in disguise.” His body tenses again, the playfulness suddenly gone and replaced with a more somber mood. “After Ice Town, which is this ridiculous winter sports complex I built to impress a girl, everyone in the town pretty much hated me. They threw things, glared at me, and some people even went as far as to egg my house, so staying in my room was probably for the best.”
Despite the haze of alcohol that slightly clouds her mind, it’s abundantly clear that Ben doesn’t talk about this often. Leslie watches the way he stares out at the falling snow, shoulders drawn together tightly as he tips beer into his cute mouth.
(Which, by the way, is just getting cuter by the moment and harder to resist.)
“You know what, let’s get out of here.”
“What? Where would we go?” Ben stutters, clearly confused.
“Hot chocolate. My Daddy always said that hot chocolate could help with any problem.”
Ben glances down at his watch.
“Leslie, it’s almost 2 am. Where would we get hot chocolate at 2 am?” Leslie ignores his question, instead reaching for his hand and tugging on it impatiently. Ben doesn’t question her, letting her lead him through waves of drunken people inside the house.
When they step out of the house, stepping inconspicuously over two passed out people on the floor, Leslie tugs him in the direction of the coffee shop. They walk in silence; Ben’s warm palm still in hers and it makes her heart race.
(Though it was probably just the alcohol and not the fact that Ben’s thumb was rubbing over her knuckles. Just the alcohol.)
The coffee shop is closed, the lights out and Leslie reaches into her pocket for her keys.
“Leslie.” Ben hisses. “We can’t break into your coffee shop.”
“Yes, we can. Ron doesn’t care. Plus we’re not breaking in. I have keys.”
“Ron? Who’s Ron?”
The keys rattle as she opens the door, the warmth and smell of the coffee hits them almost immediately and Ben sighs happily, thumbing her knuckles again. Leslie drops Ben’s hand and moves to flip the lights open.
And tosses Ben an apron.
“Come on, I’ll teach you how to make my famous hot chocolate.”
Leslie ties on her apron and leads Ben behind the counter and shows him the machines. She shows him how to steam the milk and laughs when he drinks some of the cold milk while their milk steams, creating a cute little mustache above his upper lip. She resists the urge to kiss it and instead brushes her thumb over his skin and tries not to think how of how soft his lips were. Ben blushes, smiling bashfully before thanking her.
She shows him how to pump the chocolate into their cups and winks at him before pumping extra chocolate into his cup. He laughs when she can’t help but pump some chocolate sauce on her finger. She notices the way his eyes darken slightly when she wraps her lips around her finger and licks the chocolate off.
(And tries not to admit to herself that it turns her on when his eyes follow her finger.)
He insists that he pours the milk and he looks so cute when he looks extremely accomplished after he does it successfully.
“Yeah, great pouring technique there, Ben. I’m surprised they haven’t made you bartender of the year.”
He playfully glares at her, hands on his hips.
“Is that sarcasm I sense, Ms. Knope?”
“Not sarcasm, it’s clearly the utmost admiration for your technique. But, these are still missing something.”
Leslie mixes their drinks and goes to the fridge for one of the cans of whipped cream they keep stocked there. She fills their cups with whipped cream, smiling with satisfaction when she tops them off. Ben picks one up and hands one to her, clinking the side of their mugs before taking a long sip.
"Your Dad was right, hot chocolate does make things better." He shoots her a sideway glance and smiles, while Leslie tries not to think of the fact that she wishes she was Ben's cup, the one that he would press his lips too every so often before making a slight moan in appreciation.
It's quiet for a while, nothing but the soft humming of the espresso machine filling the room along with the comfortable silence that presses on their shoulders while they continue to sip on their hot chocolate.
Ben suddenly starts chuckling, his head cocked to the side as he looks at her and suddenly she feels self-conscious.
“What?”
“You just have a little something…” He sets his cup aside and steps closer, his chest almost flush against hers before brushing away a spot of whipped cream on her upper lip.
“… here.”
Her stomach churns and tumbles when his thumb doesn’t pull away from her lip. Instead, the pads of his finger continue to rub over the clean spot, his eyes focusing intently on hers. Shivers run up her spine when she focuses on the color; a deep brown that reminds her of the crunching leaves that she’d stomp in with her father in the fall.
Warmth runs through her at the way his gaze drifts down to her lips and she can’t help but stare back. She takes in the dip of his upper lip and the slight chapping due to the cold. She takes in the light scruff that is scattered on his jaw and briefly wonders what the small hairs would feel like gliding against her skin.
He dips a little closer, his hands finding purchase on her waist as her own arms come around to hold his shoulders, fingers brushing against the material of the plaid shirts he seems to love wearing.
His breath skims her lips and she can slightly taste the sting of the alcohol.
Fuck.
Ben Wyatt, once an 18-year-old mayor and cute butt owner, was going to kiss her.
She feels drunk all over again, but this time, she is surely drunk on nothing but Ben Wyatt. His hand cups her cheek, now thumbing the apple of it as his lips reach down a little to meet hers…
Crash.
The mug slips from her hands, shattering on the ground and effectively spilling hot chocolate all over Ben.
“Oh good Lord that is hot.”
“Oh my God I am so sorry!” Leslie squeaks, grabbing some paper towels and immediately rubbing the spots of hot chocolate that was all over Ben’s crotch area, while continuing to apologize profusely. She was the world’s biggest screw up and oh God, if this was the reason why Ben never came back to the coffee shop again….
Except the one thing she didn’t realize is how compromising the position looked with her bent over rubbing spilled hot chocolate out of his general crotch area.
“Oh my God!”
Leslie raises her head to see Marcia Langman, president of the Celibacy club and most vocal advocate in Indiana against pre-marital sex, with a horrified expression on her face.
Great.
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