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Leslie was good at multitasking. She could chair a meeting, take notes, and keep an eye on everyone in the room all at once. It was a skill she’d honed over years of government work and, honestly, just being herself.
So when she noticed something was off about Ben Wyatt, it was immediate.
At first, it was subtle—he blinked more than usual, rubbing at his temples as he squinted at his padfolio. His posture was slouchier than normal (which was saying something, given his tendency to fold in on himself like a sad, handsome origami). Then he ran a hand down his face and let out a slow exhale, like he was barely holding on.
Leslie frowned.
“Alright, that’s enough of this,” Ron announced suddenly, standing up. “This meeting is over.”
Leslie barely heard the ensuing shuffle of chairs and rustling of papers. She was already leaning toward Ben, whispering, “Hey, you okay?”
He startled a little, as if he hadn’t realized she was watching him.
“Yeah. Fine,” he said, flashing a too-quick smile.
Leslie narrowed her eyes. That was a lie. A terrible one, at that.
Ron strolled past them and clapped Ben on the shoulder, making him sway slightly. “Buck up, son. Meetings like that will put anyone in an early grave.”
Ben let out a weak chuckle, but Leslie didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened or how he braced himself against the table.
When Ron left, Leslie reached out, pressing a firm hand to his forehead before he could dodge.
Ben jerked back, startled. “Leslie!”
Oh yeah. Definitely warm.
“You have a fever,” she announced.
Ben frowned, like he was trying to do the mental math on whether she was right.
“It’s not that bad,” he tried.
Leslie gave him the look. The “don’t argue with me because I will win” look.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing her coat and standing. “I’m driving you back to your motel.”
Ben spent the entire drive to the motel insisting that he was fine.
Leslie spent the entire drive ignoring him.
When they pulled into the parking lot, she turned off the engine and twisted in her seat. “Alright, here we are. Go inside, get in bed, and drink some water. You know, basic human survival things.”
Ben exhaled through his nose, clearly gearing up for one last attempt at protesting, but Leslie had already unbuckled her seatbelt. “You should—”
“—Come inside for a second? Yeah, I agree,” she said, cutting him off as she opened her door.
Ben groaned but didn’t fight it.
They made their way to his room, and Leslie noticed how much slower Ben was moving. He fumbled with the keycard, missing the slot twice before finally swiping it correctly.
She watched as he hesitated at the doorway.
It was brief—just a flicker of something in his expression—but it was enough to make her pause.
“Ben?”
He forced a small smile. “I’m fine.”
Leslie folded her arms. “Okay, see, normally I would believe you, because I like to believe my friends don’t lie to me. But this? This is a lie, and I do not appreciate it.”
Ben sighed, shoulders slumping. He hesitated for another second before finally admitting, “I just… I don’t like being sick. Especially alone.”
Leslie’s heart softened.
“Oh,” she said.
Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s dumb, I know. I just—being sick makes me feel weird, and when I don’t have anyone around, I start overthinking, and—”
“You want me to stay?” Leslie asked.
Ben looked at her, surprised. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” She gave him a pointed look. “But I want to.”
Ben blinked at her, and for a moment, he just… stared.
Then, finally, he exhaled, giving her a small, tired smile. “Okay.”
Leslie grinned. “Good choice. Now move, Wyatt, I’ve got a government official to take care of.”
The moment they stepped inside, Leslie went into full Leslie Mode.
“Okay, first things first,” she said, setting her bag down. “Hydration is key. Where do you keep your water?”
Ben gestured vaguely toward the mini-fridge hidden in the far corner on the room, and Leslie grabbed a bottle. She unscrewed the cap and handed it to him. “Drink.”
Ben rolled his eyes but took a sip.
“More.”
Ben sighed and took another sip.
“Good boy,” Leslie said, patting his shoulder.
Ben made a face. “Weirdly patronizing, but sure.”
Leslie ignored him, moving on to her next order of business. “Where’s your thermometer?”
Ben groaned. “Oh, come on.”
“Benjamin.”
He muttered something under his breath before trudging over to his suitcase and pulling out a small travel thermometer. He handed it to her with the reluctance of a child being forced to eat vegetables.
Leslie clicked it on and handed it back. “Under your tongue. And keep it there.”
Ben obeyed, though he gave her a very put-upon look as he did.
Leslie took the moment to assess the situation. The motel room was small and impersonal, just a bed, a desk, and a tiny bathroom. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to be here alone, feeling awful.
The thermometer beeped.
Leslie snatched it from his mouth before he could even react. “A hundred and one,” she read, frowning. “Yeah, you’re definitely sick.”
Ben groaned again, slumping onto the bed.
Leslie shook her head, smirking. “Okay, drama queen. Go put on some comfy, cooler clothes. Then straight to bed.”
Ben eyed her warily. “You’re really taking this seriously, huh?”
Leslie placed a hand over her heart. “Ben, when I commit to something, I commit. Now...move, mister.”
Ben let out a small laugh, but he did as he was told.
Leslie sat down in the chair beside the bed.
Ben blinked up at her. “You’re really staying?”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ben. I’m staying.”
There was a pause. Then, softly, Ben murmured, “Thanks, Leslie.”
She smiled. “Anytime.”
A few hours later, Ben’s fever had climbed.
Leslie had stepped away for five minutes to grab some ice from the vending machine, and when she returned, he was a little out of it.
“Hey,” she said softly, sitting back down beside him. “How you feeling?”
Ben blinked blearily at her. “Leslie Knope.”
Leslie raised an eyebrow. “That’s me.”
He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “You’re so pretty.”
Leslie blinked.
Oh.
“Okay, fever-Ben is a flirt,” she muttered.
Ben hummed. “No, seriously. You’re, like… so pretty.”
Leslie cleared her throat, pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead. “Okay, well, that’s nice, but let’s focus on getting your fever down.”
Ben sighed happily. “Mmm. That feels nice. Your hands are so soft.”
Leslie swallowed.
Okay. Okay. This was fine. She just had to stay professional.
Ben’s eyes fluttered open again, and he gave her a lopsided grin. “You always smell so good. Is that legal?”
Leslie let out a sharp, flustered laugh. “I—what?”
Ben sighed dramatically. “I may be the one with the fever… but you’re still the hottest person in the room.”
Leslie choked.
Her face went hot.
“Ben!” she hissed, pressing the washcloth harder against his forehead, like she could physically shove the fever-induced flirtation back into him.
Ben just smiled sleepily. “S’true. You're the hottest person in any room, though.”
Leslie exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Oh my god.
This was going to be a long night.
Leslie tried to ignore the way her face was still burning from Ben’s completely unfair flirting.
He was delirious. That’s all it was. His body temperature was too high, and it was making him loopy. He probably wouldn’t even remember this later.
…Right?
Shaking off the thought, she focused on the task at hand.
“You need to cool down,” she said, mostly to herself, as she swapped the washcloth for a fresh, colder one. She pressed it against his forehead again, watching his expression for any sign of relief.
Ben sighed, his lashes fluttering. “You’re an angel.”
Leslie exhaled through her nose. Ignore it. Stay focused.
“Just try to relax,” she said. “I’m right here.”
Ben’s eyes opened slightly, unfocused but earnest. “You always take care of everyone.”
Leslie faltered.
She hadn’t expected that.
“I mean, you’re always doing a million things for Pawnee,” he continued, his voice soft, slow, words slightly slurred. “For your friends. For me.”
Leslie swallowed. “Well, yeah,” she said, trying to keep it light. “I like taking care of people.”
Ben’s gaze didn’t waver. “I like… you.”
Oh no.
Leslie’s stomach flipped, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Ben, you’re sick. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Ben huffed weakly. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”
Leslie pursed her lips. “Oh, really? What did you have for lunch today?”
Ben blinked. “Uh…”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Ben sighed dramatically. “You’re so bossy.”
Leslie smirked. “And you need sleep.”
Ben grumbled something she didn’t quite catch but let his eyes slip shut again.
Leslie sat there, watching his breathing even out, wondering if he would remember any of this in the morning.
Leslie woke up with a crick in her neck and a very groggy Ben Wyatt blinking at her from the bed.
She had pulled the chair closer at some point in the night, resting her head on the edge of the mattress.
Now, Ben was staring at her, confused.
“…Leslie?” he croaked.
Leslie sat up, stretching. “Hey, you’re awake.”
Ben frowned slightly, like he was piecing things together. “You stayed?”
Leslie nodded. “Of course. I wasn’t going to leave you alone when you were that out of it.”
Ben opened his mouth, then paused. His brow furrowed.
“…Did I say anything weird last night?”
Leslie went very still.
She forced a casual smile. “What do you remember?”
Ben hesitated. “Not much. Just… fever dreams, I think?”
Leslie exhaled, a mix of relief and disappointment flooding through her. “Yep. Just fever dreams. Crazy stuff, right?”
Ben nodded slowly. “Huh.”
Leslie clapped her hands together. “Alright! You’re still a little warm, but you’re way better than last night. So I say we celebrate your survival with some toast and Gatorade.”
Ben gave her a small, grateful smile. “That sounds great.”
Leslie grinned, standing up. “Then stay put. Doctor Knope is on it.”
As she walked toward the door, she could still feel Ben watching her.
Fever dreams or not… something told her this wasn’t the last time she’d catch Ben Wyatt looking at her like that.
And—if she was being honest?
She didn’t really mind.
When Leslie returned with breakfast, she found Ben sitting up in bed, looking suspiciously awake.
“Okay,” she announced, balancing a paper bag and two bottles of Gatorade. “I come bearing the holy grail of sick day breakfasts—plain toast and the finest orange-flavored electrolyte beverage money can buy.”
Ben let out a small chuckle but still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.
Leslie paused.
Huh.
His face was flushed—not in the feverish, I might pass out way it had been last night, but in the I just had an embarrassing realization and now I don’t know what to do with myself way.
She handed him his toast, watching as he took a small, distracted bite.
Interesting.
“Feeling okay?” she asked, leaning against the desk.
Ben nodded quickly. “Yeah. Better. Thanks to you.”
Leslie narrowed her eyes.
Yep. Something was up.
Ben still wouldn’t look directly at her, instead choosing to focus very intently on his Gatorade, twisting the cap on and off.
And that’s when it clicked.
Oh.
Oh no.
He remembered.
Leslie pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to smile.
Ben, awkward even in perfect health, was now caught in the throes of post-fever flirting regret.
It was almost too easy.
She cleared her throat. “So, uh… crazy night, huh?”
Ben froze.
Leslie took a slow sip of her own Gatorade, watching with barely concealed amusement as Ben carefully placed his toast back on the napkin.
“I… wouldn’t call it crazy,” he said, way too nonchalantly. “Just, you know. Typical fever stuff. Sleeping, sweating, saying things I don’t remember…”
Leslie smirked. “Huh. That’s funny.”
Ben finally glanced at her, wary. “What is?”
Leslie tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Well, I just… distinctly remember someone saying, 'I may be the one with the fever, but you’re still the hottest person in the room'.”
Ben made a noise that could only be described as a dying squeak.
“Oh my god,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. “Please tell me that didn't actually happen?”
Leslie grinned. “Oh, it happened, buddy. And you seemed like you meant it.”
Ben groaned, shaking his head. “Please stop talking.”
Leslie laughed, leaning forward slightly. “You also called me an angel. And told me I smelled good.”
Ben flopped back against the pillows. “I really should’ve let the fever take me.”
Leslie just laughed harder.
She reached over and patted his hand, still smirking. “There there, don’t worry. I won’t hold any of it against you. Just some delusional, fever talk. No big deal.”
Ben hesitated. His fingers curled around the edge of his blanket. Then, without looking at her, he said, quietly—almost reluctantly—
“Yeah.” He exhaled. “Fever talk.”
Lie.
He was lying again. She could tell.
Leslie’s breath caught, just slightly.
Her heart did a weird little thing, flipping, stuttering, before she forced herself to act like a normal person.
She took another bite of toast, swallowed, and stood up, forcing a grin. “Welp! I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick. The wizz palace as I like to call it. And then I'll get you some more medicine. Stay put.”
Ben watched her for a second, like he was debating whether to say something else.
He didn’t.
Instead, he just nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Leslie.”
She nodded back, then all but fled the room.
Because holy crap.
Maybe it hadn't just been fever talk...
Leslie returned a couple minutes later, medicine and a fresh bottle of water in hand. She found Ben still sitting up in bed, looking marginally less like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“Alright, buddy,” she said, unscrewing the cap on the medicine. “Time for your next dose. Open up.”
Ben gave her a look. “I’m not a child, Leslie. I can take medicine by myself.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know, but I’m feeling very nurturing right now, and you’re not going to take this moment from me.”
Ben sighed but obediently opened his mouth. Leslie carefully popped two pills in his mouth, then handed him the opened bottle of water.
Once he was done, Leslie leaned in slightly, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead.
Ben went very still.
Leslie tried not to focus on that, instead concentrating on the lingering warmth under her fingertips.
“Hmm,” she said, pulling back. “You’re still a little warm, but the fever’s definitely lessening.”
Ben relaxed slightly. “That’s good.”
Leslie nodded. “Yeah. But just to be safe, you should probably take a shower. Cooling down a bit more could help.”
Ben blinked at her. “You’re suggesting I take a shower? Right now?”
Leslie shrugged. “Yeah. Not, like, a hot one. A lukewarm one. Just to help regulate your temperature.”
Ben hesitated. “I don’t know if I have the energy to stand that long.”
Leslie waved a hand. “Then sit. Or, dramatically lean against the wall and pretend you're in an angsty, 90's teen movie.”
Ben huffed out a laugh. “I’ll… consider that.”
Leslie smirked. “Good. And if you pass out in there, I will break the door down.”
Ben looked amused, but then—almost imperceptibly—his gaze flickered down to her arms.
Leslie knew exactly what he was thinking before he even said it.
“…You’re gonna need backup.”
Leslie gasped, swatting his arm. “Rude! I’m stronger than I look!”
Ben grinned before shifting, wincing slightly as he stretched. “Okay. Shower. Fine. Just… no breaking down doors, please.”
Leslie held up three fingers, Scout’s honor style. But then said, "No promises.”
Ben snorted, shaking his head as he slowly got out of bed.
Leslie watched him go, trying not to think too hard about the way he had definitely tensed up when she touched his forehead.
Or the fact that she could still feel the ghost of that warmth on her skin.
Yeah.
She really needed to get a grip.
Ben emerged from the bathroom looking considerably fresher—hair damp, skin no longer flushed from fever, and dressed in a clean pair of Star Trek pajamas. Leslie, who had been scrolling mindlessly through TV channels, glanced up and smiled.
“Well, look at you. Mr. Spock.”
Ben let out a weak chuckle before walking over and flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Okay. I did it. I showered. Can I get a prize now?”
Leslie grinned. “Your prize is me not making fun of your pajamas anymore.”
Ben groaned, burying his face in the pillow. But after a second, he paused.
Then lifted his head slightly.
“Hey… did you change the sheets?”
Leslie beamed. “Yep! While you were in the shower, I went to the front desk and asked for a fresh set. I figured you’d feel better getting into a clean bed instead of one that’s all… fever-y.”
Ben blinked at her. “Leslie.”
“Yes?”
“You changed the sheets yourself?”
Leslie shrugged. “Well, yeah. It’s not a big deal.”
Ben propped himself up on his elbows, shaking his head. “No, it is a big deal. That’s… really nice of you.”
Leslie waved him off, feeling slightly warm at the gratitude in his voice. “Pfft. I just didn’t want you rolling around in your own sicky germs. That’s gross.”
Ben huffed a laugh, still looking touched. “Well, thanks. Seriously.”
Leslie smiled but quickly changed the subject. “Okay, now that you’re all fresh and clean, you should get some rest. And by rest, I mean we should watch a movie or something.”
Ben quirked a brow. “You’re… staying?”
Leslie shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s okay? I don’t really want to leave you alone just yet.”
Ben hesitated, then gave a small nod, looking oddly relieved. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Leslie beamed, but then she glanced down at herself—her rumpled work clothes, her slightly messy hair.
“Although,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “I would like to shower and change into something comfortable… so maybe I should go home for a bit.”
Ben sat up slightly, his expression shifting.
Then, after a beat of hesitation, he blurted out, “You—you could just shower here.”
Leslie blinked.
Ben immediately looked like he regretted saying it. “I mean—you don’t have to, obviously, but, uh—if you wanted to, the shower is, um… available.”
Leslie tilted her head, amused. “You're offering me your shower?”
Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “I… yeah?”
Leslie smirked. “And what exactly am I supposed to wear afterward? My work clothes are not going back on.”
Ben hesitated for only a second before clearing his throat and muttering, “I have a t-shirt and some sweatpants you could borrow.”
Leslie stared at him.
Ben stared at the wall.
A slow smile spread across her face. “Huh.”
Ben frowned. “What?”
Leslie crossed her arms. “Oh, nothing. Just...you nervously offering me your shower.... And your clothes...”
Ben groaned, already exasperated. “Leslie—”
She leaned in slightly. “You’re blushing, Ben.”
Ben covered his face with both hands. “Oh my god.”
Leslie laughed, shaking her head. “Relax, Wyatt. I accept your offer. Just be warned—I will judge your taste in body wash.”
Ben peeked at her from between his fingers. “That’s fair.”
Leslie grinned and stood. “Alright. T-shirt and sweats, please. And make it snappy.”
Ben sighed dramatically, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at his lips as he got up and rummaged through his suitcase.
Leslie watched him, unable to stop the tiny flip of her stomach at the thought of wearing his clothes.
Yeah.
She was in so much trouble.
Leslie stepped into the motel bathroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
She let out a breath and turned toward the shower.
Which Ben had just been in.
Like, minutes ago.
Naked.
Leslie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Great. Cool. Normal. Not weird at all.
Shaking it off, she turned the water on and stripped down, stepping under the spray.
She did have to admit—Ben had good taste in body wash. The scent was clean and woodsy, but not overpowering. Just...nice.
And now she smelled like him.
Which was also fine.
Totally fine.
Not affecting her in any way whatsoever.
Leslie scrubbed her hands over her face, forcing herself to focus on showering quickly instead of getting lost in her thoughts.
Once she was done, she stepped out, toweling off and shaking out her damp hair before grabbing the clothes Ben had given her—a plain gray t-shirt and a pair of navy sweatpants.
She pulled them on, tying the drawstring tight around her waist. The clothes were too big—Ben was taller than her, broader in the shoulders—but they were comfortable.
And, well. She had to admit. Wearing his clothes was… kind of nice.
Leslie glanced at herself in the mirror, swallowing hard.
This was fine.
It was just pajamas. Just a borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants. It was not a big deal.
So then why was her stomach doing that thing? The little flippy thing?
Leslie exhaled, hands on the sink.
“Okay, Knope,” she muttered to herself. “Just go out there. Sit down. Watch a movie. Don’t be weird.”
She pointed at her reflection.
“Do not be weird.”
With one final deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.
Ben looked up from where he was sitting on the bed.
His eyes flickered over her—just for a second—before he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
Leslie tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped.
She dropped into the chair next to the bed, legs tucked under her, pretending not to notice the way Ben definitely stole a glance at her as she settled in.
Ben cleared his throat, shifting against the pillows. “So, uh… what do you wanna watch?”
Leslie grabbed the remote off the nightstand and started flipping through channels. “Something light. No murder, no medical trauma, no Nicholas Sparks adaptations.”
Ben made a face. “Agreed.”
After a few minutes, they landed on The Princess Bride—a safe, feel-good classic.
Ben seemed pleased with the choice, making himself more comfortable on the bed.
Leslie, however, was having trouble getting comfortable in the first place.
She shifted. Then shifted again. Crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Adjusted the way she was leaning.
The chair was fine, but it wasn’t exactly made for lounging.
After a few more minutes of watching her fidget, Ben hesitated before glancing at the open space on the bed beside him.
“… You know, you can sit up here if you want.”
Leslie turned to him, raising a brow. “On the bed?”
Ben gave a small, awkward shrug. “Yeah. I mean, it's totally up to you, but, uh… the chair doesn’t look super comfortable.”
Leslie hesitated, eyes flicking to the empty space next to him.
It was a completely reasonable offer. Rational, even. There was plenty of space next to him that wasn't being utilized.
And sitting on a bed to watch a movie wasn’t inherently weird. So long as they didn't make it weird.
And yet, the very idea of it made her pulse jump.
Ben must’ve misread her hesitation, because he quickly added, “Unless you're worried about any lingering fever germs...”
Leslie snorted. “I wasn’t worried about that.”
Ben’s mouth twitched. “Then what’s stopping you, Knope? Afraid I’m gonna steal your popcorn or something?”
Leslie huffed. “I don’t even have popcorn.”
Ben gestured loosely. “Well. Nothing to fear, then.”
Leslie rolled her eyes but gave in, standing up and carefully climbing onto the bed, making sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them.
The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and she sat cross-legged, resting her hands on her knees.
“Happy?” she asked.
Ben nodded, but there was something in his expression—something a little unsure, like he wasn’t totally sure this was a good idea either.
Leslie ignored the way that made her stomach flip and turned her attention back to the movie.
This was fine.
Just two coworkers. Watching a movie. Sitting near each other. On a bed.
Completely normal.
Totally, totally normal.
The movie played on, but Leslie’s attention was no longer on the screen.
It wasn’t that The Princess Bride wasn’t entertaining—on the contrary, it was the perfect, charming distraction. But now, sitting next to Ben on the bed, she couldn’t help but notice how the air between them seemed to have thickened.
The space that had once felt comfortable now seemed charged, as if every tiny movement, every subtle shift of the sheets, carried an undercurrent of something... more.
Ben was sitting stiffly, his back against the headboard, but his eyes kept flicking to her—just a glance, quickly darting away. His hands were tucked into his lap, fingers tapping nervously, almost like he didn’t know where to put them.
Leslie could feel her own restlessness—legs crossed, her fingers twitching at her side. She shifted again, this time a bit closer to him.
Ben didn’t miss it. He was always so hyper-aware of her. He glanced over at her again.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice just a little too soft.
Leslie cleared her throat and nodded, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, fine. Just, uh, getting settled. I—uh—I think you were right about the chair,” Leslie said, her voice suddenly sounding almost too loud in the silence between them. “It wasn’t as comfortable as I thought.”
Ben’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I kind of figured. So, uh... is this better?”
Leslie nodded, but the closer she got to him, the more aware she was of how her body was responding.
How the heat radiating from his body was making her own pulse quicken.
Her hand brushed his accidentally.
Ben stiffened.
She quickly pulled her hand back.
He cleared his throat. “So, uh... movie?”
Leslie nodded. “Right. Movie.”
But neither of them was really watching it anymore. They were to busy trying to act normal, while the atmosphere between them felt like it was on the verge of snapping.
Ben shifted again, leaning just a little closer, the distance between them now practically nonexistent. His hand brushed against hers, but she didn’t pull away this time.
Leslie’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her ears. She could feel the heat from his hand seeping into hers.
She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure, but the tension between them had hit a point of no return. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Leslie’s eyes flickered to the screen, but all she could seem to focus on was the way Ben’s shoulder was so close to hers. The way he was trying, and failing, to not look at her. The way his arm brushed hers when he adjusted himself in bed.
It was impossible to ignore.
She could feel every inch of Ben’s presence beside her, his warmth radiating like an electric current. His subtle shifts and little movements. Every time their bodies brushed, it was like a jolt of electricity shot through her.
Leslie’s heart was racing. She tried to tell herself this was just… just sitting in bed together. Nothing too weird. They were just friends, watching a movie.
But the truth was, it really didn't feel that way anymore.
A few moments later, as the movie continued to provide background noise to their racing thoughts, Ben let out a small sigh. “I’m, uh… I’m a little cold. You?”
Leslie, without thinking, leaned just a little bit more toward him. “Yeah, me too. Maybe we should—” She trailed off, realizing that she was just inching closer without meaning to.
Ben noticed, his eyes flicking to her as she shifted again. He made the decision before he even had time to stop himself. Without saying a word, he reached for the blanket and pulled it over them both, the soft, warm fabric draping over their laps.
Leslie’s heart skipped a beat as the sudden closeness enveloped them, the heat from his body mingling with hers. The warmth was comforting, but it also made her even more hyper-aware of every movement, every shift.
Her body was now pressed so lightly against his that it felt like the air between them had disappeared entirely. She glanced at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ben, are you... are you okay?”
Ben nodded, his voice a little tight. “Yeah. Just... you’re kind of really close.”
Leslie chuckled softly, trying to break the tension. “I know. It’s weird, right?”
He tilted his head, looking at her with that familiar, nervous smile. “Not a bad weird. Just... unexpected.”
Leslie could feel her pulse quicken. Her mind was racing—had this always been there, this kind of... pull? Or was it just the situation making it feel more intense?
Slowly, she leaned back a little, adjusting her position, and Ben did the same. She felt him shift to give her more space, but his movement was so subtle, so natural, that it almost felt like they were falling into a rhythm together.
Her fingers brushed against his arm, just lightly, and neither of them pulled away. It was small, but it was enough to send a thrill through her.
Ben glanced down at his hands, like he was unsure of what to do next. He reached up to adjust his shirt, but in doing so, he accidentally bumped his shoulder into hers.
Leslie didn’t even think about it. She leaned in just a little closer, her head resting gently against his shoulder.
It was a moment of pure, quiet connection.
Ben froze, and for a brief second, Leslie thought maybe she’d overstepped. But then he slowly—carefully—draped an arm over her shoulders, his hand resting lightly on her arm.
Leslie felt the tiniest flutter of excitement at the simple gesture. This was no longer just sitting on a bed watching a movie. This was... something else entirely.
The movement felt instinctive—natural. As though, without even thinking, they had both shifted into this space, this bubble of warmth and softness. Neither of them said anything, but in the quiet stillness, it became clear: this wasn’t just a friendly moment anymore.
They were sitting on Ben’s bed, cuddling, and neither of them was ready to admit that it felt like more than just that.
Leslie sighed quietly. “You’re still a little warm,” she murmured, though she didn’t feel like she wanted to leave the safety of his arms.
Ben chuckled softly, the sound of it vibrating through his chest. “I’m always warm.”
Leslie smiled and rested her head against him again, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. “Well, you’re extra warm today.”
They both fell into a comfortable silence, neither of them wanting to move away.
What they were doing felt right in a way neither of them could quite explain.
Ben's thumb brushed against Leslie's arm, not out of intent, but more because it was just the natural thing to do.
Leslie’s breath was steady, her head resting against his shoulder, and yet her heart was racing. She could feel Ben's warmth through the fabric of his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his chest. She had to admit, it felt nice. Too nice. And the longer it lasted, the more she felt that familiar flutter of something deeper stirring within her.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ben…”
He tensed slightly at the sound of her voice, the soft way she said his name. It felt different. Special. “Yeah?”
Leslie hesitated for just a moment. It was almost like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. “You know… I never thought I’d be here, like this. With you.”
Ben chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against her cheek. “Same here. Honestly, I thought I’d be stuck on my own in this motel room, fever and all.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, but there was something else there too—something more serious that made her heart skip. “Well, I’m glad I’m here,” she said, her voice barely above a breath. “I mean, I don’t mind. Taking care of you, that is. I don’t mind it at all.”
Ben swallowed, the words feeling heavy but also so right. He shifted just slightly, adjusting his arm around her shoulders, his hand resting on her arm again. “Leslie…”
She lifted her head, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like hours. There was something soft and vulnerable in his gaze, something that made her stomach flip.
“I meant what I said last night,” Ben whispered.
Leslie blinked, a little caught off guard. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up again. “You… You don’t have to worry about that, Ben,” she said quickly. “I told you—”
But Ben shook his head gently, cutting her off. “No, listen. I'm serious. I didn’t just say it because of the fever. I wasn’t… I wasn’t just rambling. The fever may have made me a bit more, forthcoming than usual...but it didn't make me say anything I didn't mean. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Leslie’s heart thudded in her chest. She could barely breathe as she processed his words. “Ben—”
“I like you, Leslie. I think I’ve liked you for a long time,” Ben confessed quietly, his voice steady but earnest. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”
Leslie felt the room grow impossibly warm, her pulse racing at his words. It was as if all the tension from the past few months had suddenly exploded between them, pulling them closer and closer, until there was nothing left but this.
She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she responded. “I think… I think I've liked you for a while, too.”
Ben exhaled sharply, as if all the air had suddenly left his lungs. His grip on her arm tightened just slightly, his eyes widening. “Wait… really?”
His reaction was so stunned—so completely Ben—that Leslie couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Yes, really.”
Ben blinked at her, processing, his fever-flushed face now turning an entirely new shade of pink. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Leslie teased, tilting her head.
Ben let out a breathy, slightly disbelieving chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I just— I did not expect this conversation to go this well.”
Leslie bit her lip, feeling her own nervous energy rise to match his. “What did you think would happen?”
Ben groaned, dropping his head back against the headboard dramatically. “I don’t know. A polite letdown? An ‘Oh, Ben, you’re sweet, but let’s never speak of this again’?”
Leslie laughed again, nudging him with her shoulder. “Nope. Sorry. No polite letdowns here.”
Ben turned his head to look at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I think I'm ok with that.”
Leslie smiled back, feeling something warm and uncontrollable bubbling up inside her. “And you're positive it’s not just the fever talking?”
Ben’s eyes softened, his fingers brushing absently along the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. “Positive.”
Leslie swallowed, the weight of everything settling between them in the best way possible. She wasn’t sure what exactly this meant for them moving forward, but for now, it didn’t matter.
“Wanna watch the rest of the movie?” she asked softly.
Ben grinned. “Only if you promise not to move.”
Leslie rolled her eyes but snuggled in closer, and Ben let out a small, contented sigh. The movie played on, but neither of them really cared about that.
Because, this—the warmth, the closeness, the honesty—was far more interesting than anything on the screen.
The credits were rolling, the soft hum of the TV filling the quiet motel room. But neither of them saw how the movie ended. At some point, in the warmth and stillness, they had drifted off.
Leslie stirred first, shifting slightly as she became aware of how incredibly comfortable she felt. The bed was warm, the weight of the blanket pleasant, and—oh.
Oh.
Her entire body went rigid as she realized just how closely she was nestled against Ben. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, her arm draped across his chest, and his own arm… was securely wrapped around her waist. Their legs were tangled, their bodies impossibly close, and—holy crap—they were fully laying down now. And she was practically molding herself to him.
Her brain scrambled, panic threatening to take hold. How had this happened? How had she let this happen?
Her pulse hammered as she prepared to slowly—carefully—untangle herself. But before she could move, she glanced up.
And froze.
Ben was already awake.
And he was looking at her.
Not with embarrassment. Not with panic.
But with something softer. Deeper.
Something that made Leslie’s breath hitch in her throat.
His expression was so open, so unguarded, it nearly undid her. There was affection there, so much of it that it made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t prepared for. His brown eyes, still slightly sleepy, were locked on her like she was the most important thing in the world.
And just like that, the panic—the worry, the hesitation—was gone.
All that was left was warmth.
An almost overwhelming wave of something crashed over her, something she wasn’t sure she had the words for. All she knew was that she didn’t want to move.
Didn’t want to leave the warmth of his arms.
Didn’t want this moment to end.
“…Hey,” Ben finally murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
Leslie swallowed, her lips parting slightly, her mind still trying to catch up with the sudden rush of emotions surging through her. “…Hey.”
Ben’s arm tightened just the slightest bit around her waist, like he was afraid she might pull away. “Sleep okay?”
Leslie exhaled, forcing a small, slightly breathless laugh. “I—yeah. Apparently really well.”
Ben’s lips twitched into the softest of smiles. “Yeah. Me too.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. They just stayed there. Wrapped up in each other, lingering in something that felt far too big to ignore.
Leslie’s fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his shirt, her heart pounding as she debated what to say next.
But then, Ben spoke first.
“I, uh…” He hesitated, his thumb brushing absently against the fabric at her waist. “I really, really don’t want to make this weird, but… this is kind of the best way I’ve ever woken up.”
Leslie inhaled sharply, something dangerously close to a swoon threatening to overtake her.