Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Ship: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Word Count: 518.
Summary: Post ep for The Fight. Leslie drunk dials Ben.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. :(
Notes: Written for a Drunk Dial prompt @ tvrealm which is the greatest comm ever and you should come and join Team Dramedy :D This is my first P&R fic, it was fun.
He’d managed to face plant into his bed when LESLIE KNOPE - PARKS DEPARTMENT flashes up on his cell phone screen at 4am and he drunk giggles because he had waaaaay too much snake juice and even flashing lights have become amusing.
“Hello Leslie Knope, Parks Department.” He answers and laughs at the formality.
“This is not Leslie Knope,” She says in a really terrible (like Dick van Dyke terrible) English accent. “This is the British po-leece.” She accentuates the vowels. “We are arresting you for being mean Ben and wearing too much plaid.”
She laughs into the phone then, loud and hard, and he laughs with her because it sounds like happiness and he is drunk and she is...drunkerer?
“I don’t wear too much plaid.” He counters lamely. He doesn’t think he does anyway. Not that it matters because plaid is cool, right? He makes a mental note to ask April later. She is a young people after all, he thinks.
“Oh, I think you doooo,” Her accent slipped, “And Britain is very, very cross.” And it‘s back again. “Plus there’s also those thin ties.”
“And that’s a crime in Britain?” Somewhere, deep down, in the coherent part of his brain he thinks she probably means tweed not plaid.
“Whatever. I’m awesome you know Benji. Like, completely…space awesome. Imagine the most awesome thing ever…then send it to the moon. That is how awesome I am. Better than Buzz Lightyear and Neil Armstrong‘s lovebaby. Leslie Armstrong Lightyear Buzz Knope. That is what men… who I have dated…sometimes… might call me.”
He nods in agreement because it’s true but he is too drunk to realise she can’t see him.
“You could have kissed my mouth tonight Ben-ja-min Wy-att.” And that’s a sobering thought, her lips, her tongue, but it’s not sobering enough and he still can’t think of anything to say (snake juice is potent.) “And that would have been awesome too. I’m, like super awesome at kissing. Baseball players can’t even kiss as good as I can.”
“What?” Maybe it’s because he’s wasted but that doesn’t make sense.
“Don’t interrupt.” She replies crossly. “I’m telling you how good I am at kissing. Don’t you want to know Ben?”
God yes. God no. This is confusing his poor smushy, alcohol addled brain. So he says nothing and lets her carry on.
“Kissing me is like flying. On the back of a bird. That is also a horse. And it smells like a rainbow.”
That is exactly how he imagined it would be.
“And you didn’t even bother.” There is vulnerability in her slurred words.
“I wanted to. I always want to.”
“Good.” She says softly and then it’s just dial tone.
He wants to store this away in his mind, she wants him to kiss her, and that is big and awesome and just what Ben wants to do. But he probably won’t remember. He is pretty damn drunk.