The next few weeks went by in a happy blur.
Ben had never felt lighter or happier in his life, definitely not since Ice Town, and even if he didn't get to have Leslie completely, he already felt she was the best thing to ever happen to him.
Life became just waiting for the next moment he got to see Leslie. There were quick lunches in front of the wildflower mural and shared smiles in the hall, working on projects together in the Parks department and Leslie coming up with reasons to come down to the City Manager's Office. They didn't get to go to sleep together or wake up together, because of Mark in her house and Andy and April in his, so they made do with what they had. Ann was so kind and gracious enough to lend them not only her City Hall office for quick romantic meetings, but also occasionally her house when she was gone, where the "no sex on the couch" rule may have been broken… many times.
As much as they could, at least. Technically speaking, they hadn't had sex yet. They'd done maybe everything but that, and perhaps Ben couldn't help but overthink that decision a little bit. If he thought it was just because she wasn't ready, or wanted to take things slow, he wouldn't question it, but he knew deep down it was because of Mark. Leslie could act all she wanted that cheating on Mark wasn't bothering her, but Ben knew better than that. And maybe, as time went on, Ben started to feel a little bit more upset that he couldn't fully have Leslie— that he would only ever get to hold a small piece of her that he couldn't share with anyone.
With Leslie Knope, Ben always lived to torture himself. This was absolutely no exception.
Because as many times as he got to hold Leslie, Mark got to do it twice as many. Mark got to kiss her in public, show her off to anyone he wanted to, introduce her as his girlfriend. Mark got to unlock the key to their shared house and cook dinner with her. Mark got to push her into their mattress and roll on top of her and when she got up in the night looking thoroughly fucked, Mark got to take her hand and tell her to come back to bed. And Ben? Ben got lunches where he had to sit at least two feet away from her and stolen kisses in the Health Department office.
But, there was some hope. Ben clung desperately to that tiny bit of hope that bubbled in his stomach everytime she looked at him, because he knew there was something Ben had that Mark never could. Mark might have had Leslie physically, but he would never have her heart. The way she looked at Ben never once matched the way she looked at Mark, and he knew Leslie was his in all the ways that really mattered most. Maybe it was immature of Ben, or selfish, but he looked for these moments everyday, thought about them every night when he went to bed alone, just to remind himself that this was something just for him. This was a power Mark Brendanawicz did not have over him.
He told her as much, at noon on a work day, when they were supposed to be eating lunch but instead were holed up in Ann's office. Leslie sat on Ann's desk with Ben standing between her legs, and they hadn't stopped kissing for several minutes. His hands slid up and down her thighs over her dress pants, squeezing them gently just to feel her, to remind himself that she was real, as he so often had to do. Her fingers slipped into his hair at the nape of his neck, gently biting his bottom lip in a way that made his whole body shiver.
"Leslie," he murmured against her lips. "I want you."
Her fingers gripped him tighter, held him closer to her, but she didn't respond.
"All of you," he continued, unable to help himself. "I want all of you."
"Just kiss me," she said, opening her mouth to stick her tongue down his throat, effectively shutting him up. It worked, for a couple minutes at least.
"Leslie," he said again, and she simply moved from his lips to kiss down his neck, suckling hard on the skin. He worried it would leave a mark. "Look at me."
Her whole body pressed into his, and her fingernails clawed into his back. Her eyes flicked up to his for only a moment, heavy lidded under her eyelashes, before she returned to her task of kissing his throat. Ben sighed. He knew full well what she was doing. He would just have to play this game his own way.
"I know you had sex with Mark last night," he said, and Leslie instantly froze. Mission accomplished.
"How do you know that?" she asked him.
"He was bragging about it this morning," Ben said, tilting her chin up to properly meet her eyes. This was true, he did hear Brendanawicz that morning, talking to a few of his buddies. Ben's blood had boiled and he had to calm his breathing down in the bathroom before he could head back to work. "He was telling his friends about how you cooked dinner for him. How you put out and said you loved him."
"Oh, Ben," Leslie whispered, and cupped his face in her hand. "You know that's not true, that I just have to say that to him."
Ben hadn't wanted to pick an argument, but he felt it spilling out of him anyway. "And, putting on this act that you love Mark… that has to include having sex with him?"
He noticed the way her jaw set, the slight changes in her face that showed she was not happy with this conversation topic. "Do you really want to talk about Mark during our lunch break when we can be making out instead?"
"I do, actually." Well, he also really wanted to make out with her, but he figured this conversation was an important one, and one he wouldn't have the guts for again. "Every day we're together, Leslie, you feel a little farther away. I want all of you, and you hesitate. Every time, you hesitate, and I just want to know why."
She stilled against him, and her hand was still palming his cheek. He reveled in her touch, even if it meant he felt the way she shook, the way she paused, the way she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm just scared, that's all."
"I understand—"
"No, I'm not sure you do," she huffed, and her hand fell away. "You're not the one cheating, Ben. I care so much about you and I want to be with you completely, I want all of you too, but I have to sit here every time and question my own morality, if I'm actually a good person, if I deserve any of this at all, if I deserve you—"
Well, now Ben felt bad. His face fell and he pulled Leslie back into his arms, where her head fell into his chest. She'd started to cry. She was doing a lot of that recently. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he said lowly, running his fingers through her hair. "You are a good person, don't you ever forget that. I'm sorry, I guess I just get… insecure, because I see the way Mark gets to have you and I start to worry how much of you is really mine."
Her head buried into his shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. "All of me," she whispered against his skin. "Every part of me that matters is all yours."
There was something shaky in her tone that Ben really should have paid more attention to. But he chose to believe her anyway. He was much too desperate not to.
Leslie was far more scared than she would ever admit to anyone. She already never slept well at night, but her insomnia was worse than ever, to the point where she couldn't even lie down. She had to be up and moving, walking around the house, getting some work done, late night snacks, television, political biographies, speeches for her campaign, anything at all to get her mind off of this horrible thing that she was doing.
It wasn't unusual, but she and Mark hadn't been on the best of terms. Ever since that article from Shauna Malwae-Tweep, there was an odd tension between them, at least on Leslie's edge. She kept the article and her affair wedged between them, distancing herself in any way she could, not expecting that it would distance her from Ben as well. But everytime she kissed Ben, there was that guilt in the back of her mind, all consuming, not even allowing her to enjoy a simple kiss. She wished when she was with him that her mind would go blank, just like it used to, and the world would only be Leslie and Ben, but that was before the affair began. That was back when it was easy to pretend their relationship was innocent, that it meant nothing to either of them, and she could so easily slip into a place where only Ben Wyatt existed. But then that kiss happened, that first kiss, and all that soft innocence and that perfect bubble came crashing down so fast that it was soul crushing. There was no more innocence, only guilt with every stolen kiss.
She couldn't even imagine how she would feel if she and Ben had sex.
This thing they had, it felt so fragile, and Leslie couldn't bear the thought of it breaking. For once in her life she stopped being impulsive, and she moved slowly and deliberately, out of fear that any wrong move would send the whole thing crashing down. Their relationship was a tightrope walk and she was quickly losing her balance, and it would only be a matter of time before she started to fall and was hanging on by her fingertips.
It occurred to Leslie then that although Ben made her feel like herself again, she once again couldn't remember who she was. And that thought was terrifying.
Mark noticed the tension. It was all her luck that he thought it was only because of the article, that he had no inkling of any affair. She was allowed to be distant because of that article and that was working out very well for her. Except for when Mark started trying his hardest to get back in her favor. He started acting nicer than ever. He brought her lunch from JJ's and she started having to skip lunch dates with Ben because Mark would eat in his office with her. He started bringing her flowers— wildflowers, because he knew she liked that mural, which made her think of Ben and when she choked up, Mark thought it was out of gratitude. He offered her massages when she was working too hard and brought her coffee with extra whipped cream every morning before work. He cuddled into her at night and whispered that he loved her and she had to say it back, she just had to.
And yes, she had sex with him. She had never planned on telling Ben, because why tell him something that would just hurt him to hear? She made dinner with him and had sex with him and told him she loved him. But she was just playing a part. It wasn't real, it was a role. She was just… lying. To everyone. To herself.
She knew Mark was only being extra nice because he was sick of fighting. The two of them had been on edge for weeks, with either Mark or Leslie sleeping on the couch, hardly talking, both upset. But instead of choosing to talk to Leslie about it, he had started to bribe her. With his love, with his affection, with things he had never shown her before but was adamant to show her now. Deep down, she didn't fall for it. On the surface, however, she acted in love. And maybe that was why Ben was growing insecure.
She lay awake that night with Mark pressed up against her back, his long arms wrapped around her waist. She couldn't get up if she tried— and she really did want to— because the thoughts were sinking in again. She stared ahead of her at their bedroom wall and softly breathed, willing her mind to go blank, to shut off so she could stop torturing herself and just go to fucking sleep. All she wanted was sleep, and not this never ending hell that was her brain.
Leslie Knope was not a good person, not anymore. There was a painting in City Hall that showed all the good things about Pawnee history, and much larger, all the bad things. Leslie belonged on the bad side. There was no doubt about that, not when her guilt was so consuming. Mark kissed her, and she pictured Ben. And when she kissed Ben, she pictured Mark, and all the guilt she felt for being a cheater, for being involved in this kind of scandal. When Leslie fell off this cliff, she would not fall alone. Ben and Mark would fall with her, and all of Pawnee would feel that impact.
On a Saturday morning, she woke up late for maybe the first time in her life.
Well, no, that wasn't strictly true, because it wasn't exactly late. It was six in the morning, but it felt like nine because Mark was already awake, his side of the bed empty. Not once in their entire relationship had that ever happened, and she automatically grew suspicious.
Leslie carefully got out of bed, and didn't bother to get dressed more than an oversized tshirt and slippers shaped like ducks. She didn't feel like brushing her hair, didn't feel like putting on pants, didn't feel like hopping in the shower. It was a lazy day, a slow day, an insignificant day. At least, it was supposed to be.
There was a slight clatter coming from the kitchen, which again caused Leslie to pause. Was Mark… making them breakfast? She couldn't think of a time he had ever done that. The occasional coffee or take-out from JJ's, sure, but actually cooking breakfast? That was unheard of. And he was humming to himself, he sounded happy. Light. She padded her way into the kitchen to see Mark standing over the waffle maker, a plate of already-made waffles in the center of the table, along with coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs, and wildflowers.
He looked so happy when he saw her that she didn't have the heart to focus on the fact that wildflowers did not belong to the two of them.
"Hey! Good morning, babe," Mark said, pausing in his cooking to press a kiss to her temple. "Did you sleep well?"
She didn't answer his question, staring around their kitchen as if she didn't recognize it. "Mark, what is all this?" she gaped.
He just smiled, fixing her a plate of waffles and pulling a can of whipped cream out of the fridge. "I just wanted to surprise you today." He started piling whipped cream onto her waffles. "I know you haven't been feeling your best lately. You've been distant, I can tell. I know you've been stressed and there's a lot to do with your campaign and I definitely didn't help when it came to that article, and I'm sorry."
"Oh, I'm over that," she lied. Still she turned to sit at the table, happy to see waffles no matter who was giving them to her. When she turned back around to look at Mark again, he was on one knee in front of her.
"Breakfast isn't the only surprise I have for you," Mark said. Leslie's entire body froze. This wasn't happening. There was no way this was happening, right? This couldn't be real, it had to be a dream, or maybe some sick and twisted nightmare because there was just no way he could be serious.
But Mark continued. "Leslie Knope. I know I haven't always been the best to you. I know sometimes I'm not the best boyfriend, but I love you so much. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life. And… I want to do even better. I want to support you through your whole campaign and I want to be right by your side the entire time. I figured the best way to do that is with a new start."
Leslie didn't move, didn't speak, didn't breathe.
He pulled a small black box from his pocket, and opened it to reveal a very large ring, holding it up to her. There was a smile on his face and he reached out to touch her hand.
"Leslie Knope, will you marry me?"