Ben was, for once, surprisingly okay.

Him and Leslie slowly got on better terms. When they would pass each other in City Hall, it was always cause for a smile between the two, and even a pleasant conversation. Ben diverged some of his nerdier hobbies to her, like how many times he's seen the Star Wars series (twenty-four times, but who's counting?) and Leslie mentioned a snow globe museum she got kicked out of.

Once, they even found themselves eating lunch together after a particularly odd day involving a burger cook-off between Ron and Chris. Ben had suggested they eat in front of his favorite place in City Hall:

"Do you know that wildflower mural up on the second floor?" Ben had asked her.

Leslie's face lit up, and he knew he made the right choice.

Still, as they sat in front of that wildflower mural and ate their burgers, Ben had a hard time keeping his eyes off her. The longer he looked at Leslie Knope, the more his feelings for her grew, and the more it hurt his heart. She still had a boyfriend. A serious, City Planner boyfriend who could've shown up at any point and broken Ben in half.

"Mark doesn't like to come up here," Leslie had told him, before he could even ask. "He thinks it's silly. He says it's just a painting, and he'd rather go to the actual wildflowers. But I don't care. I think it's pretty."

Ben thought that was very sad. But at least it made the wildflower mural strictly Ben and Leslie's place.

And, in a strange twist of fate, with Ben choosing to stay in Pawnee by Leslie's request, he ended up roommate to Andy and April, the newly married couple who wouldn't know responsibility if it hit them in the face. And, God, Ben wasn't even going to think about that painting Jerry did that Leslie ended up bringing over. That is to say, if Ben thought about it too much, he inevitably would start to wonder how accurate that painting was to Leslie's actual body, and then his pants would feel far too tight on him and that was not a situation he wanted to be caught in public with.

But Leslie had a boyfriend.

Ben liked her so, so much, but she would never feel the same.

And that got a lot harder to take the more they talked. But still, talking to Leslie was his favorite thing to do. He could never give that up.

He was at an all time low lately in terms of self-pity when Tom passed along the invitation for Ben to come along to the Snakehole Lounge, where he would be introducing his new drink, SnakeJuice. Ben wasn't going to have any, he really wasn't. And then when Tom begged him, it was only going to be just one shot.

Ben took his first shot in front of the watchful eyes of Tom and his weird friend, Jean-Ralphio Saperstein. It didn't taste bad, not at all, and maybe that's what was so horribly dangerous about the drink, because the alcohol content in it hit Ben so suddenly he felt it in his chest like a punch.

He shook out his limbs and slammed the glass down. "Holy… what is in this?"

Tom rolled his eyes and clapped Ben on the back, which didn't help his jitters. "Alcohol, Ben. Obviously! Oooh, Leslie's here, she's my favorite kind of drunk. Jean-Ralphio! Let's get the lady like, four shots."

Again, Ben only meant to have one shot. But then he saw Leslie walk in, and for a moment, she was all he saw. She looked beautiful, and she always looked powerful in red, and… there was a hand on her shoulder. She was attached very closely to Mark Brendanawics, despite the fact that neither of them looked particularly happy. In fact, as soon as Tom came over, Leslie took the opportunity to immediately pour some SnakeJuice down her throat.

Ben shifted in his seat and took another shot.

Leslie and Mark hadn't been on the best of terms lately.

She had taken it upon herself to come home the night she put a sad, drunk Ben to bed and tell Mark about it all. Leslie was not a liar, and she wasn't about to hide this from her boyfriend, as much as her gut really, really wanted her to. And Mark, upset already about this, grew increasingly agitated everytime he noticed Leslie and Ben talking in City Hall. He made a point to look angrier than usual every time he found Ben in the Parks and Recreation department when he didn't have to be.

So when Leslie suggested she and Mark go out to the Snakehole Lounge for a night out, and he found out Ben was going to be there, he wasn't exactly thrilled that either of them were going. But still, Leslie had already promised Ann that they were going to dance their asses off that night and get drunk, and who was she to cancel on beautiful nurse Ann Perkins?

Mark, so much taller than her, surveyed the crowd easily and took only one shot next to Leslie's two. "Do you see Ann?" she asked him eagerly. He shook his head.

"Not yet, but…" he frowned a little. More like a scowl, and his hand on Leslie's shoulder tightened. "I see that State Auditor."

Leslie sighed loudly. "I don't know why you insist on calling him that, you know his name. And he's not even a State Auditor anymore, he's Assistant City Manager."

Mark stiffened. "You would know that."

She was so annoyed by this comment that she detached herself from him to take another shot, and make a point of rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows that, Mark! It's public knowledge! You literally WORK in City Hall, don't act like you don't know that."

"Jesus, Leslie, can you… maybe not do this here?" he asked her, and the way he chastised her made her settle down, just slightly. His hands connected to her again and slid down to her hips. "Let's just have a fun time. Why not, okay? Let's dance while you wait for Ann."

Leslie had really wanted to take the time to go say hi to Ben, who was drinking alone by the bar, but the way Mark steered her hips proved that his offer wasn't really up for negotiation.

So she took another shot and forcefully pushed Ben out of her mind, ready to dance with Mark.

Ben was maybe, possibly, just a tiny bit very drunk by the time the yelling started.

He had been watching Leslie all night, as if eager to torture himself, drinking more the longer she danced with Mark. And to make matters even worse, every so often Mark's eyes would find their way over to Ben, drinking alone, as if he knew Ben's heart like he wore it on his sleeve. And maybe he did. Maybe Ben deserved this punishment. After all, he did stay up every night wishing for an opportunity to break up a relationship between two people who lived together.

Who loved each other.

Or claimed that they love each other, as Ann would tell him when he was feeling particularly anxious. Ann, who still hadn't shown up, and Ben was beginning to get annoyed because he really, really needed to talk to her before he ended up trying to drunkenly fight Mark again. Because the yelling was getting louder, and Ben definitely heard his voice.

Leslie was tiny, but Ben was so used to seeking her out with his eyes that he spotted her instantly, her hair and wild mess and her arms flailing about wildly. She was drunk. So, so drunk, what the hell was even in SnakeJuice? One moment of clarity and Ben could see that no one, including himself, was in their right minds, and maybe that was why instead of shutting down in front of Mark, Leslie was yelling.

Leslie was yelling at Mark and it was such a beautiful noise, and Ben was so drunk that her words were muddled and he couldn't process what she was saying at all. He couldn't even snap out of his trance until a hand was on his arm and— oh thank God, Ann was here, and somehow already drunk too?

"Ann?" Ben blinked. "How long have you been here?"

She wobbled precariously on her heels. "A little… little bit. Hour. Maybe. What's happening?"

Ben could only point her in Leslie and Mark's direction. "Yelling," he added, very helpfully, he was sure. "She's very pretty."

He wasn't sure where that came from (it was definitely the SnakeJuice), but Ann hit him over the head. "Stop thinking with your penis, Wyatt."

Ben giggled at that. "My penis is thinking more than that." Oh god, he was drunk, did he really just say that in front of Ann Perkins? Drunk Ben didn't even have the decency to look ashamed after the fact, and the next thing he knew he was on the floor because Ann had shoved him again, and his balance was so off he slipped from his chair. What was more, Ann had left him, weaving through the crowds, towards Leslie.

Leslie's yelling got louder, and so did Mark's.

"I don't understand what you're so jealous about!" screamed Leslie, the words finally getting through to Ben's brain. He tried to narrow in his sight, but only saw a blur of pretty blonde hair and a tall, probably ugly dude that had to be Brendanawics.

"I'm not fucking jealous," came a male voice, decidedly very much Mark. "I'm just protective, but you can't even see the difference."

"No, you're being a baby! A big old big BABY, that's what you're being, Mark. A whiny baby who wants more attention from me."

"Is it really so terrible of me to ask for attention from my girlfriend? I mean, Jesus, I love you, Leslie! But you're acting like a complete and total child. I feel like I'm babysitting."

"You're the child! Look— no, Ann, get off me, let me say this, Ann— you're the jealous child, Mark! You get all butthurt about one guy, one coworker who isn't even into me and probably totally thinks I'm ugly—"

"Ben fucking Wyatt does not think you're ugly, do you even hear yourself? You're blind—"

Ben had been listening very closely, yet at the mention of his own name, suddenly there was very loud circus music in his ears. Oh, and his body felt numb, and he never picked himself up off the club floor. This was going very well. He kept replaying his own name in Mark's voice over and over again in his head but for the life of him, he couldn't remember why his name was said, or any of the context. All their yelling words jumbled together and nothing was in order and nothing made sense and the club was spinning a little bit. Or maybe Ben was just spinning around in circles. There was no way of knowing.

"—I love you, Mark, I do! But god, could you please just trust me a little bit more?"

She loved Mark. Perhaps that made Ben want to cry a little bit. But instead he reached for another shot of SnakeJuice, against his better judgment.

"—I'm out of here. I'm going home," Mark said, and Ben blinked. "Just… I'm leaving, Leslie. I need some space."

Mark turned away from Leslie and stalked towards the door, his eyes meeting Ben's as he passed. Ben was a little bit terrified and suddenly felt very short and too skinny for a guy. If Mark wanted to fight him, he was definitely going to die in the middle of the Snakehole Lounge and Tom was absolutely going to stream it on his phone and get a million views. At least his death would help Tom become famous, right?

That was the anxiety and the SnakeJuice talking, because all Mark did was keep walking and walk out the doors, not even sparing a second glance, leaving behind his very distressed and very drunk girlfriend. It was this thought that started to sober Ben up.

Clearly Leslie's anger and adrenaline wasn't quite out yet, because next thing Ben knew was that she and Ann were the next to be yelling at each other, which was equally worrisome. Leslie and Ann were best friends, and now they were fighting? This time, however, he didn't catch the words, only the way Leslie's face broke and her eyes watered and her hair got messier and she just kept shaking her head at Ann until finally she broke and ran— out to the back outside the Snakehole Lounge.

Ben's feet immediately took him to follow her, but Ann's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Let me go," he hissed, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect Leslie, to calm her, stop her tears. "Let me go to her."

Ann was crying, her mascara running down her cheeks. "I told her enough was enough, Ben. I told her to break up with Mark."

That did stop Ben in his tracks. "You did… what?"

"I told her they had to break up! She thinks I don't understand, but I… I don't know, I think she might be hiding something from me. I think there's something more to this, Ben, but… just give her a moment."

Ann slumped into a seat and threw her head into her hands. Ben could only sigh.

Leslie sat on the concrete outside the Snakehole Lounge, unable to stop crying. She couldn't stop replaying her argument with Mark, and then Ann, in her head, all of it just hurt too much. And the fact Mark would just willingly leave her drunk in a club with no way home… it left her feeling very defeated, and very alone. When Ann came along telling Leslie to break up with him, she was too fragile to handle it, her head spinning too fast to make any decisions except yelling. And now that happy drunk she had hoped to gain turned into a messy, crying drunk.

She wasn't sure how long she had been out there by the time the door behind her creaked open, and she hid her face in her hands. "If you're here to yell at me again, Ann, I'm not in the mood—"

"I'm not here to yell," said a warm, calm toned voice. "And… I'm not Ann, either."

Leslie spun around at his voice, and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Ben, standing behind her and looking awkward. She waved him over and he sat on the curb next to her, close enough that she could feel his warmth in the cool night air.

"Oh, hi," she said to him, wiping her tears from her face in an effort to look more presentable. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be."

"And I'm sorry about tonight. I told you I would see you tonight and then I totally blew you off."

Ben offered her a smile, and it was so soft and genuine that Leslie felt her heart skip a beat and a shiver run down her spine— odd. She'd never felt like that before. "You don't need to apologize to me," he told her. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. There was lots of yelling, and, well… I was really worried about you."

Ben was worried about her? For some reason she didn't expect this at all, and maybe part of her still thought Ben hated her after what she did to him, but he didn't, did he? Good Ben, Kind Ben, Perfect Ben who was way too good a friend for Leslie and she had no idea what she did to deserve someone like him in her life. He didn't have to comfort her at all, let alone be in her life after everything that happened, but there he was, sitting next to her outside a club, drunk and ready to talk. The thought was so overwhelming that she started to sob again, burying her face in her hands. Ben jumped, holding his palms up.

"Oh god, uh, I'm so sorry," Ben stammered. "Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, I—"

"I should've broken up with Mark."

Her statement hung in the air between them, Ben frozen in time while Leslie continued to cry.

"I… what?"

She lifted her head up, just slightly, but still couldn't bring herself to look Ben in the eye. "I should've broken up with him tonight, when he left. I should have yesterday. I should have at Andy and April's wedding. I should have a month ago. A year ago. When he kissed me for the first time, I should've said no." The words were out before she could control them, the first time she'd ever admitted them out loud. Even inside her head, she'd only thought these things cautiously, when she was alone, as if someone could read her mind. But saying them now, to Ben, something about it felt real and right. There was something about Ben— where everything felt more vivid, more colorful, and she saw things sharper.

Ben sucked in a breath at her admission. "Why didn't you?"

She wanted to say it. She wanted so desperately to bare her very last secret to Ben Wyatt and open herself up to him. She wanted to become herself again, to feel free. She wanted to break up with Mark Brendanawics and she wanted to yell more.

But she couldn't say it. Not yet. Not so soon.

"I don't know," she answered. "I've never known how. When I'm around him… I become someone I'm not. I feel like a little kid who wants to be the president someday and he's the adult who just nods and laughs because he knows that's not possible." She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Ben. He was listening so intently, those warm brown eyes so wide and gentle. "I want to leave, but I just can't. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Ben sighed, and inched closer to her. "Well, I do," he said, and the shaking in his voice was gone. She raised a brow at him. "You can do anything you want to. Because you're Leslie freaking Knope."

It wasn't much, in the long run, but to Leslie, it was everything. She broke into a genuine smile and everything that was hurting her seemed to melt away, because the only thing that mattered just then was Ben Wyatt and Leslie Knope. She curled closer to him, and he took that moment to wrap an arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his warmth. Her head fell onto his shoulder, and with the tiniest brush of a touch, he moved her hair from her face, wiping away a stray tear.

"Thank you," she whispered, and she smiled against his chest. "You're my best friend."