Saturday, 5:30 am, Ben's room

Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.

Ben rubs his eyes painfully, but keeps them closed. With all the energy he can gather, he searches around Leslie's side of the bed. Empty. He reaches further (sometimes Leslie ends up on the far side of the bed − she moves around a lot in her sleep) until his hand is only touching air, but his wife is not here.

Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.

"Leslie?" he groans.

Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.

The beeping of the alarm clock is still filling the room and he throws an arm on the nightstand, trying to find it without looking because right now, opening his eyes is not an option. It's too early. The horrible beeps stop and he stops to think clearly. Leslie not here. Alarm clock just rang. Weekend with the guys coming up.

"Leslie?" he asks again, louder.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" Leslie's voice comes from the doorway. "I was afraid you'd lazy it up in bed, so I set up an alarm for you!"

"Leslie, what time is it?"

"It's time to prepare the GGGs, of course!"

She throws a heavy binder on his chest. Ouch.

"The GGGs?"

"The Great Girls Getaway and the Grand Guys Gathering! Have you been listening to a single meeting we've had about this weekend for the past two months?"

He groans and tries to pull himself to a sitting position − and fails. It's really far too early.

"Leslie, how long have you been up?"

"Oh, I've slept a couple hours earlier, but this is so much fun! Me with the gals at April's cabin, you with the guys in here, this is going to be perfect!"

"And you actually planned my weekend with the boys?"

"Let's be real, Ben, if I hadn't done it, you wouldn't have either. Now, go get dressed and come downstairs, we've got some more planning to do. Yay!"

Ben buries his head into his pillow, grunts loudly, screams a muffled cry for help and sits up to start the day.

Saturday, 6:13 am, on the road between Washington DC and Pawnee

April emerges from her nap in the car even more tired than she was before. She looks on her left − the car has stopped, Andy is not in the driver seat anymore and the door is open on his side.

"Andy?"

"Out here, babe!" he calls out from the side of whatever road he stopped in the middle of.

She opens her door to have a look at him, which turns out to be pretty ineffective in the dark of the morning.

"Honey, I can't see you. What are you doing?"

"Well, miss Roberta here was being super grumpy, and I was afraid you'd wake up, so I stopped the car and we're chilling out here. She's super cute, babe, you know these sounds she makes sometimes? Like when she's drooling? That's cute, right? She's been doing those for like half an hour."

April knows exactly what sounds he means, but feels too tired to discuss that right now. She needs to be on the road and to reach their destination. Soon.

"Andy, Leslie said to be at her place by eight. We're gonna be late."

Andy's big form appears on her side of the car, craddling their daughter with all the tenderness he has to give, and he gives an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, babe. I just didn't wanna wake you up and Robbie wouldn't stop crying."

"It's okay," she sighs. "But we better get going, she's not crying anymore right now, so get her back in the car seat."

If it was up to her, she would just take the baby from Andy's arms and cuddle with her all the way from Washington to Pawnee, but Leslie said you should always put the babies in car seats, every single time. And she is the kind of nosy person who would check on that when they arrive at her place. And April loves her for that. So Andy straps Roberta back into place, checks on Jack (still sleeping, everything going good) and starts up the car again. They have a big weekend in Pawnee to attend to.

Saturday, 6:28 am, Leslie's kitchen

"Hey, guys! How are you?" Chris sounds ecstatic as he stops by their kitchen window and gives them the biggest smile humanly possible and Ben feels like he has a heart attack. He can't deny he did not expect his best friend's face to pop up between that box of chocolate cereals and a brick of milk just now.

"Hey, Chris..." Ben says hesitantly. His heart is still recuperating from that startle.

"Hey! Is Leslie here?" Leslie asks, opening the window as if all of this is fine and normal at six in the morning.

"Yeah," the voice of Leslie Perkins-Traeger precedes her face, also appearing by the window next to her father, and Ben is starting to wonder if his wife is the host of a secret club in Pawnee. "Hey, Leslie!"

"Hey, Leslie!"

They exchange some sounds and hand gestures that look like they could be a secret handshake if there was actual handshaking involved.

"Guys, what's going on?"

"Oh, right, babe, you're always in bed at this time! Chris and Leslie always come by during their morning run."

She takes a mug, fills it with hot cocoa and whipped cream, and hands it to Leslie through the window.

"At six in the morning?" Ben tries not to sound sarcastic, but it's very hard in moments like this.

"It's our pre-breakfast run! Leslie loves seeing her Aunt Leslie when we reach the house around six thirty. We always come and say hi."

"Are you excited about this weekend?" Leslie asks the littler Leslie.

"Definitely," the girl answers and takes another sip of hot cocoa − which Ben knows to be delicious, as he's having a cup of his own. Leslie makes the best hot beverages.

"Are you super excited though?"

"Yay!"

"How about you, Chris? Thrilled to be spending time with the boys?"

"I am overjoyed. I literally cannot wait for some quality time with my friends."

"Well, I can tell you that Ben has a lot of fun stuff prepared for you and Ollie. Well, not as much fun as what I have in store for the gals, but nothing can beat that…"

"Well, Leslie, I thank you for your time and this delightful little break, but the sun is starting to show, so we'd better get running. Thank you, and have a great breakfast, and I will see both of you later!"

"Thanks, Leslie," Leslie says and hands her back the now empty mug.

"Bye, guys! See you later!" She waves at them as they get back to their apparently daily morning run, and turns back to Ben, a huge grin on her face. "So, back to planning?"

"Back to planning."

Saturday, 7 am, Oliver's room

Light is pouring through the window shades of Oliver's room. Sunshine is lighting up his cute little face and makes him look like the angel he is. His room is tidy, as always, and Ann notices he fell asleep reading again last night. The book is still on his pillow. She sits on the side of his bed, runs her fingers through his hair (he'll need a haircut soon) and whispers.

"Ollie, it's time to wake up."

He scrunches up his nose, shakes his head and turns over.

"Ollie, sweetie," she rubs his shoulder softly, "we have to get ready for the weekend."

He moans and buries his head deep into his pillow.

"I'm making your favorite, blueberry pancakes…"

That gets his attention, as always. He cracks one eye open, the other one, his every moves still slow and exhausted.

"Will you put chocolate sauce on top of the whipped cream?" He asks in a voice slurred by sleep.

"Only if you get out of bed."

He groans and rubs his eyes.

"See you in the kitchen, honey."

She kisses his temple and walks back down the stairs to get the pancakes started. Sometimes she wonders if it was the right call to give her daughter the name of her best friend: Oliver is by far much more like her than Leslie. He has such a sweet tooth Chris has no idea how he can even be his flesh and blood. But he's got Chris's eyes (technically her eye color but still) and his hair and he loves cooking just like him − it's just that he's far more interested in cakes than vegan burgers.

By the time she's pouring the batter onto the pan, arms wrap around her belly (at thirteen, Oliver is still waiting for the grow spurt that is already starting to happen to Leslie) and her son's head presses against her back.

"Sleep well?"

He nods lazily and she twists her head back to give him a smile. He smiles back. There is nothing softer or more heartwarming than Oliver's shy smile in the morning.

"Are you excited about this weekend?"

He shrugs, lets go of her back and takes the spatula from her. No answer.

"What is it? I thought you liked to go to Ben and Leslie's?"

He sighs and flips the pancake over. It has the perfect shade of gold brown.

"I do, it's just... that's a lot of people at once."

"Aww, sweetie," she holds him against her as he pours the batter for a second pancake. "Without the girls, that's not more than the usual. In fact, it's less. There's just Andy and his son that you don't know that well."

"Yeah..."

"You don't wanna come with us girls, do you?"

"What? No!"

"I'm sure you're going to have a lot of fun with the boys."

"I guess..."

"And you can always gryzzl me if you want to talk."

"Okay."

"Just be yourself and have a great time! Besides, Andy is a lot of fun."

"Yeah, Aunt Leslie says so."

"And his son Jack is gonna be there, that's cool too, right?"

"Yeah, it kind of is," he admits with a side glance and a shrug. "Wesley said he's very cute."

She presses a kiss on the top of his head and fetches four plates from the cupboard that she sets on the table.

"Also, you'll get to be in a normal house. Don't tell your sister, but I have no idea what to expect from April's cabin in the woods..."

He chuckles — that's a victory. Her boy has always been more introverted than his sister (who is already fairly reserved herself), and she knows that his reluctance is only a matter of anxiety. But she is completely convinced that a weekend with the boys will be a great idea for him and the others, just like she is sure she's going to have a blast with the girls.

"Are Dad and Les coming soon? Can I serve the pancakes right now?"

Just as he asks, she hears the front door opening and two excited voices in the hall. Seems like she is not the only one looking forward to the weekend.

Saturday, 7:35 am, on the road between Washington and Pawnee, closer than before

Andy packed breakfast waffles to eat on the way. He originally thought he got enough for all three of them (Roberta doesn't eat real food yet), but once they stop and actually take out the paper bags (he drew a bear on Jack's, a rainbow on his and a dead fish on April's), April says there is enough to feed three football teams in here. It's probably not too bad, though, because she takes another serving. And another. And half of a fourth.

"Girl, you're so hungry!"

She grunts.

"I'm breastfeeding, Andy, I have to eat for the baby as well."

"How many babies are you actually feeding?" He laughs, but April pinches his arm playfully and he shuts up, still grinning.

After a special Ludgate-Dwyer cuddle that Jack insists on being a part of, they get back to the road. They still have an hour to go before reaching Pawnee. Andy's been driving so far today since they left the inn they spent the night at (Pawnee really is too far from DC) but April suggests to take the wheel and Andy is eager to accept. She's the better driver anyway.

"You happy to see Chip?" April asks him once they put their little kids back into their seats and they're back to driving. They are starting to see signs that say Pawnee is close and that's always Andy's favorite part of the ride.

He laughs. She really got him good last year when Ben invited them for a reunion. She totally convinced him that he remembered Chris's name wrong. He looked kind of dumb when he met Chris again, but he was so happy to see him that he didn't care that much.

"Hell yeah!" he says, "Chris is like the coolest guy I know! I mean, except for this guy, of course."

He points to a sleeping Jack. His handsome little dude. He's going to miss him so much when he finds a new job. After a few months of gigs after gigs (kids have tons of parties in summer and who better to invite than the ever famous Johnny Karate?), his career is in a little bit of a lull right now. April offered to open up a file for him at the foundation and find him a job, but he's pretty sure that no job out there involve spending all of his time with his awesome son and his super amazing daughter. So he takes every opportunity he can to look at this little guy and not miss a single moment with him while he still can.

"You okay, babe?" April asks, her hand on his lap, soft and caring, as she always is.

He snaps out of his anxieties for the future − she is the best at reassuring him. Ahead of them, the sky is full of the beautiful lights of Pawnee − Leslie says it's pollution and it's bad, but it's really pretty, still.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I'm fine."

Her thumb massages his thigh softly − that's very relaxing.

"I'm happy to see the triplets," she says.

"Yeah, me too. They're so cool."

He thinks back on all the great moments he's had with Leslie and Ben's kids and smiles. When Leslie gryzzled him to invite them to this special weekend with all the kids, all weekend, he was so excited that April had to throw a glass of cold water down his neck and back to calm him down. It ended in a water throwing game for the whole family (except for Roberta, though, because she is a big baby but still too little to do anything except smiling and laughing) and he even forgot that Leslie was on the phone until he picked up his gryzzlphone half an hour later and she was still on the line.

"It's too bad I won't get to see Sonia much, though. That girl is great."

"Well, I won't get to see the boys either, but at least I won't see Ben, so there's that."

He chuckles and takes her hand in his big one (she's got tiny hands that he can cover with his completely, he's always liked that). Their fingers intertwine and just fit together.

"It's gonna be fun."

She tears her eyes away from the road for just a second (ever since they got their little babies, she's been a very careful driver) to give him a gentle smile. He really wants to kiss her, but she looks back at the road ahead of her seconds later. Best get to Pawnee quick and without accident. He'll get to kiss her later.

"Yeah," she says. "It is."

Saturday, 7:45 am, Steven's room

When Sonia wants something, there is nothing that'll stop her. Ever. Steven has had twelve years to learn that and it still surprises him sometimes. Specifically, it's always a surprise to be shaken awake in the middle of a beautiful dream. He was eating waffles, but instead of whipped cream, it was marshmallow fluff and instead of drinking hot chocolate, he was drinking liquid Skittles (that's not a thing, right? It should be a thing, if you ask him). The ultimate dream.

"It's time," she says and suddenly the sun is blinding him. "Wake up."He groans. She opened the curtains. What is she doing in his bedroom? And what time is it? It feels like it's barely dawn, but he hopes Sonia wouldn't do that to him, wake him up when the sun has just risen. Painfully, he opens his eyes to find her sitting at his desk, eyeing him."Good, you're awake. Breakfast is served in five minutes. Come downstairs."She skims through apps on her gryzzlphone, glancing down at him, and he rubs his eyes painfully."Eurgh...""I'm going to wake up Wesley. Don't be late!"He closes his eyes the second she leaves the room, but just as he thinks he's done with her, deafening rap music blasts from the phone she left on his table, the kind of music only their dad and her would ever listen to.

"I HATE YOU, SONIA!" he whines, to no one, because she has left him alone to his doom.

This music is going to rip his eardrums, he's sure. He rolls over and pulls his pillow over his head, but his body works in its own ways in the morning and he ends up slipping on his comforter and falling on the floor, his butt in the air. For a while he thinks he might just try to fall back asleep to the sounds of gross rap of a century he wasn't even born in, but then he feels a hand reaching for his shoulder and turns over, squinting.

"Steve, it's time for breakfast," Wesley's soft voice says and he recognizes that voice more than he sees his face, with all the light literally burning his eyes, or so it feels. "Why are you listening to rap on the floor?"

"Gosh, Wesley, Sonia put it on! You know I hate that crap."

"Oh. Yeah. That makes sense."

"… Turn it off, will you?"

"Sure."

Finally, silence. Wesley sits awkwardly on Steven's bed, as if waiting for something. He begins tapping his fingers on the gryzzlscreen, even though it's off.

"Did you want something?" Steven asks.

He stands up reluctantly, rubs the exhaustion from his eyes, and picks up a shirt from the floor. After he pulls it over his head, Wesley is still fidgeting. There is something in his eyes that seems nervous, but that may just be the way he often is.

"Wesley," Steven says and puts his hand on his brother's shoulder. He looks up and bites his lip. This looks like another typical Wesley anxiety. He can be just as driven and open as him and Sonia when he's going okay, but as soon as he gets even mildly anxious, he's a ball of nerves and won't say a thing unless strongly prompted. "What's wrong?"

"It's… I mean… do you remember what we talked about?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific, bro."

"You know… When I told you that…"

"BOYS! BREAKFAST TIME!" Their mother's voice echoes through the staircase and Wesley shuts his mouth and looks away immediately, his eyes on the floor.

"We'd better get downstairs," he mutters.

"Hey," Steven pats Wesley's shoulder softly. "We'll talk later, alright?"

"Yeah," Wesley sighs, "that sounds good."

"Also, last one to breakfast doesn't get toppings on his waffles!"

He barely has the time to get moving before Wesley races him down the stairs.