It was two weeks since Ben left Leslie in the parking lot of Ramsett Park. A full month since they broke up. A month since Leslie got engaged. And an entire month of Leslie not feeling whole.

It was like there was a hole in her heart, widening everyday that she didn't see Ben. It never stopped aching and she never really stopped feeling it, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Her best coping mechanism so far? Throwing herself into her work. It was hard to think about anything when all you could afford to think about was work.

Ann was constantly trying to talk to her, get her to slow down, but Leslie refused to hear any of it. There wasn't time to slow down, not now, maybe not ever. Mark hardly even noticed something was wrong with her. All he ever did lately was try to get her into bed.

She never gave into him, not again, not anymore. Everytime Mark started kissing her throat and pulling her to their bedroom, all she could think about was Ben's face, Ben's voice when he asked her about her sleeping with Mark, the pain that was there. She wasn't with Ben anymore, and she knew eventually she would be married to Mark and she couldn't keep avoiding sex forever, but she didn't care. For now, she was okay with pretending to fall asleep early on the couch every night.

Thankfully, her campaign picked up. Her managers, Elizabeth and William, kept her plenty busy, creating constant meetings to talk strategy and ads. It was needed now more than ever, because there were rumors of a new candidate coming into the mix— heir to the Sweetums fortune Bobby Newport. They were just rumors for now, but that was no excuse to take this lightly. And Leslie was more than okay with facing this problem head on.

And maybe, just maybe, she had an idea to boost her campaign. An idea to help the dear, young political minds of Pawnee who loved Model UN. And maybe Leslie knew that Ben did Model UN. Maybe she knew that he loved it. Maybe she knew that he would want to help out, even if it meant working side by side with her. Or maybe she didn't know any of that. Total coincidence. When asked, she would go with that.

But God, he just looked so excited when he walked in, looking around at the auditorium and all her flags, eyes lit up like a little kid in a candy shop. He was so stupid cute, and just the fact that his smile in that moment was because of her, because of what she did… that thought lingered in her mind for a very long time.

She sidled up to him slowly, just casually, giving him the room to back away from her if he felt the need to. "Hey there, Peru. You excited to get this going?"

Ben didn't move away, and she could've let out a breath of relief so large it was comical. The tension in her chest eased up a little. "I am, actually," he said, with the tiniest of smiles on his face. "You did a good job here, Denmark."

Leslie grinned brightly at him, wanting to keep this good conversation going as long as possible. If they could just be friends, just friends… Leslie might be able to handle that, as long as he was still in her life in some way. "Well… I'm glad you like it. I worked very hard on it. And you know, I don't share my extensive collection of flags with just anyone."

Ben looked giddy, his hands on his hips. "I think I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and make political problem-solving my bitch."

Leslie laughed at that, and their next move was so second nature that neither of them realized they were doing it at first. They fell right into step with their handshake, their fingers touching for the first time in a month, both of them smiling, neither of them thinking. They had fallen right back into their old patterns and there was something so beautiful about it, but—

"Ms. Knope?"

Startled, Leslie's hand slipped, their handshake turning into a slap to Ben's face. He winced and recoiled, rubbing his cheek. With the way his face fell, it was obvious the moment was over. He realized what he had done.

"Ms. Knope, we need you over here for the photo op, for your campaign."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, yeah, of course. Um…" she looked over at Ben, who was frowning now. "Um, I'm sorry, I'll just be right—"

"Don't," he interrupted, shying away from her. The change in him was instantaneous; touching each other was a clear mistake. "Just… go."

But Leslie's heart hurt, and suddenly she didn't care about the stupid photo op. Half of the reason she set this whole thing up was because of Ben, so shouldn't she get to spend some time with him? She didn't want that precious moment to be over already, she had to salvage this. She put up one finger to the photographer and leaned back over to Ben, her voice low enough so that only he would hear.

"Look…" she whispered, "for what it's worth, Ben, I'm really glad that you're here—"

Again, Ben cut her off. "Let's not do this, okay? Just… stop. Not here."

Her heart seized in that terribly familiar way. "I just wanted to be friends—"

"Too bad," he all but hissed, and he was starting to look legitimately angry. She took a step back at the look on his face. "Go do your campaign stuff, I have a treaty to discuss with the kids."

Her jaw clenched. "I… fine. Fine! I will," she grumbled, because if he could be angry, then so could she, goddammit. She shot Ben and look and stormed off to the photographers, uncaring if it was taking too long and she was leaving Ben and the kids waiting. Whatever. She didn't care. Not about Ben or about anything.

It was one of the biggest lies she told herself that day.

Ben kept glancing over at her, looking more and more upset every minute, just trying to deal with the kids. He would ask when it was over, she would tell him to wait. He said he was treading water with the treaty, she shrugged her shoulders and said the photo op was very important. Back and forth, back and forth.

But then he wrote her out of their treaty.

And maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a silly fake treaty for Model UN that didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Except for Leslie, it meant everything, like a symbol. Like he was cutting her out one more time on top of leaving her. And something about it felt oddly final.

"You wrote me out of the treaty? Are you kidding me?" she yelled at him, uncaring in that moment who was listening. "I said that I would be back!"

Ben set his jaw, narrowed his eyes at her. "Actually, you said that photo op was oh so important and you just HAD to spend time on it. I mean, good lord, Leslie, is a good photo for the paper all you care about? What about the kids?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "Don't you dare tell me I don't care about the kids when they're the entire reason I set this up! I've done everything for them, and you're just… you're just being a big jerk."

"Oh, I'm being the jerk? Let me guess, I'm a jerk because I'd rather focus on the kids and the hunger crisis rather than hash out all our problems with you?"

Leslie felt like screaming. "You… you asshole!" A couple of kids around her shifted at her language, but for once in her life she didn't care. Ben was red faced and pointing a finger at her and didn't he know how much this hurt? Didn't he know that everyday without him was killing her? Did he even care? "You're the worst, Ben, you just—"

"Stop saying my name! Just stop it! I swear to God, I don't want to hear it one more time. Not your voice or your face. So stop it, Leslie."

"If I can't say your name, you don't get to say mine!" she was shaking with rage that wouldn't go away anytime soon, and the students were beginning to look a little scared. "No, you know what, Peru?" she stormed up to the podium and slammed the gavel. "I declare war! Denmark would like to officially announce war on the nation of Peru! ON MY SIGNAL!"

In retrospect, they definitely should've been kicked out of Model UN.

/

Ben sat at home alone, Andy and April off who knows where, still incredibly angry about what went on at Model UN.

He let war break out. Actual war! Most of the students had left by the time they were done and they hardly realized it, so focused on their mutual destruction that they hadn't realized they'd brought everyone else down with them.

God, he had been so stupid. He let himself falter, let himself have that moment of weakness where all he wanted to do was be around Leslie. He'd completely forgotten himself for a moment with their old handshake, and her accidental slap was the wake up call he needed. He couldn't be around Leslie, not anymore. It just hurt too much. And Ben was much, much too weak. Too much time around her, who knows what would happen? Maybe the world actually would end.

There was a sharp pounding on his door. He didn't answer, but it wouldn't stop, and he couldn't think of anyone else who would be slamming their fists into his front door at almost midnight. Especially after they just had an argument and he wouldn't let her get her final word in.

Ben groaned inwardly. He should've ignored it. He really, really should have ignored it.

He opened the door, and Leslie stood there in a blaze of glory, all wide eyes and wild hair and positively glowing with anger. Her arm was raised to shake her fist at him, not even giving him a moment to breathe before she was yelling.

"Screw you, Ben Wyatt, what the hell was that? You're going to be an ass and yell at me like that in front of everyone? What gave you the right? Who do you think you are? I'm nothing but nice to you after what happened between us, I try to be good to you, I gave you distance and you were a jerk, I talked to you and you were a jerk, I tried to be friends with you and you were a jerk, I mean what the hell do you want from me? No matter what I do you just seem to hate me and I don't know how much longer I can deal with this, with you being a cold and calloused jerk to me when I've made it clear I'm hurting, I mean seriously! I get it, you hate me now, you've made that clear with the way you act, but did you seriously have to do it in front of everyone? What did I do to deserve—"

Ben kissed her.

Ben cupped her face with an intense amount of strength and kissed her to shut her up, if nothing else. He kissed her because she was there and she was in front of him and whenever she yelled, it seemed to do something to him. He kissed her because she was angry and he was angry and it just felt like the right thing to do in that moment.

He pulled away, but his fingers still pressed into her cheeks, his voice a low growl an inch from her face. "I am… ridiculously angry with you," he said.

"And I still think you're an ass," she hissed, and then they came together again, and Leslie came to life once more. She met Ben's force with just as much power, her fingers curling into the front of his t-shirt and pulling. He felt her nails in his chest, the way that she squeezed, and two could play at that game. Ben growled and pulled her into his house, kicking the front door shut behind him. He wasted no time in shoving Leslie into his couch, thinking that even his bedroom was too far away, and Andy and April weren't here, so who cares?

She tried to leap off the couch but Ben climbed on top of her and held her there, pressing frantic kisses to every exposed inch of her skin. His fingers curled around her wrists and pushed them into the couch cushions, grabbing and grasping and pulling and kissing with bruising force. And she reacted just as strongly, pulling her wrists and wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer.

He let go of her wrists for a moment to allow his fingers to curl into her hair at her scalp, and she took this opportunity to wrap her first in his shirt and pull it over his head, throwing it to the floor. Ben very quickly took this as a good time to start ripping open the buttons of her shirt.

Leslie's breath was hot in his face. "This is a bad idea," she murmured, low and in her throat.

Ben tore her shirt from her shoulders and slid his hands over her bare stomach. "An incredibly bad idea," he agreed, before both their lips met again, somehow even more hurried than before. They had never been quicker in their movements, in how they touched each other, as if they knew deep down that they had to get this done before they snapped out of it and the regret would start to sink in.

Ben lifted Leslie's back and unclasped her bra, practically tearing that from her too and tossing it over his shoulder. He barely gave himself time to look at her before his hands were gripping and kneading her breasts, swallowing her gasps with his mouth still on hers. She started to rock underneath him, her arms twisting around his shoulders to dig her nails into his back.

Both of them were channeling all of their anger, their hurt, their sadness and their pain into each other, taking it out on each other, as if to make the other feel that burden. This was not sweet, or overly loving, even if this was only happening in the first place because they were falling in love with each other, and there was nothing they could do about that. There was only frustration and ridiculous amounts of tension, and after so long… they were bound to explode.

Leslie's fingers tugged at strands of his hair, hissing under her breath, and Ben met this by gripping her hair, pulling at it, and dipping his hand to the waistband of her pants, undoing it quickly. Feeling a need to get even lower, he disconnected himself from her lips and kissed down her chest, capturing a nipple in his teeth. He rewarded her tiny groan with another pull of her hair, and just like that they were fighting for some kind of dominance over the other, as if whoever ended up on top would be the winner of whatever fucked up situation their relationship had become.

He practically ripped her pants off of her, and she whined something about how unfair it was that he was still half dressed. Ben shot her a glare and twisted her hair in his hands. "I don't care," he told her, uncaring if he sounded mean, or gruff. This just seemed to spur her on.

With a glare of her own, she spun on him, leaping up so suddenly that she could easily overtake him through his surprise. The next thing Ben knew the back of his head was slamming against the seat of the couch and Leslie was above him, straddling his lap. He groaned, and reached to grip her hips, but she wouldn't even allow him that luxury, pushing his wrists back into the couch in a very similar fashion to how he did it not long ago.

"My turn then," she told him, "you asshole." She started to grind her hips into his lap, slowly enough to torture him, and they were dipping far too quickly into territory the two of them had never reached before. Neither of them slowed down. "If you're going to be a jerk, I'll be a jerk to you."

"You're cruel," Ben hissed, curling and uncurling his fingers. He itched to take her down again, but he was also curious to see how far she would take this. So he didn't move his hands when she let go to undo his pants, pulling them and his underwear down until he was naked underneath her. "And this is unfair," he added, nodding to the fact that she still had her underwear on.

"What was it that you said to me? Oh yeah. I don't care." And her fingers gripped his dick, causing Ben to moan through a bit lip. "I said war earlier, didn't I? I intend to follow through on that, and this is how I win."

"You're ridiculous," Ben groaned as she stroked him, and it felt so good that he almost didn't want to stop her. "You're ridiculous and short sighted and so awful to me."

"Keep going," she told him. "I know you're just trying to get me to yell at you."

"If I wanted that—" another groan, as her hand started pumping him faster, "— I would do something else."

He didn't wait for her to question what, because if this was war, then goddammit he was going to act like it was war, and he had every intention of winning. He pulled Leslie down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her before rolling both of them off the couch to crash onto the floor. They both groaned at the impact, and Ben took advantage of Leslie being on her back to hook his fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pull them down her legs, tossing them aside.

"You asshole!" she cried out. "It was my turn!"

He covered her with his body, his fingers slipping in between her legs. "And you said this is war. You think war cares about who's turn it is? I should get you a white flag, you may as well start waving it now, Leslie—"

"The only thing I will be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your weeping mother!"

He scrunched up his nose and stuck a finger inside her, reveling in the way she gasped and melted at his touch. "Good lord." She was heating up underneath him, both of them naked and practically wrestling the other. Leslie's fingers were back in his hair, scratching down his back, her teeth at his throat, biting his earlobe, his bottom lip… She didn't rest, she didn't breathe, and Ben was just so goddamn frustrated, he was aching—

Ben gripped Leslie's waist tightly and flipped her around, off of her back and onto her stomach. She squealed at the impact, her hair flying into her face. She was already preparing herself to move, but Ben was quicker. He pushed her onto her knees and put his hand on her back, pushing her face down into the carpet. A tiny whimper left her, but she didn't move this time, keeping her cheek pressed to the floor and her arms stretched out in front of her.

Ben pushed her knees apart, taking in the sight of her, exposed to him in a way she never had been before. His hands gripped her ass, squeezing tight. "Gonna be hard to decapitate me like this, don't you think?"

Leslie hissed and wiggled her hips. "Just shut up and fuck me, Wyatt."

Ben didn't need to be told twice. He reached underneath one of the couch cushions, where he knew for a fact Andy kept condoms (Ben never asked why, frankly he was too scared to) and rolled one on, before practically slamming into Leslie, creating shouts and both their ends. The next push was slower, but just as powerful, Ben gripping Leslie's hips so tightly that he was bound to leave marks. He wondered, for a brief moment, if that would end up getting Leslie in trouble with Mark Brendanawicz, who was still her fiancé.

He decided he didn't give a damn.

Before long he was pounding into her, one hand on her hips, and the other on her back, in order to keep her ass up properly and her face to the ground. She moaned underneath him, and he kept going harder, faster, with only one goal in mind at that point: that she would scream his name. His name, and no one else's. He was determined, as if it was the only way to erase how he heard her screaming Mark's name in Indianapolis.

It was the only way he would be okay hearing his name in her mouth again.

Every breath, every whimper from Leslie was like some kind of drug to him, and he was high off the feel of her, losing track of anything else. This was the way it was always supposed to be, the way he had wanted it to be when they were together— just the two of them, and no one else.

"Ben," Leslie whispered, and he faltered for a moment. His roughness slowly for a second, his fingers tracing her back and wanting to brush the hair from her face. "Ben," she snapped again, and it was louder now, more needy. She didn't want gentle, she didn't want love. She wanted to fuck him until the pain of the breakup went away, until it was easier to pretend like everything was okay. She wanted him to fuck her so she could pretend it never even happened. And Ben had fallen into that exact same trap.

By the time they collapsed on top of one another and started to fall asleep on the floor, Ben had already regretted it.

/

Leslie woke up early the next morning incredibly sore, not just from sex with Ben, but apparently also from sleeping on the floor.

And, oh god, sex with Ben.

She wasn't drunk or anything, so the thought shouldn't have shocked her in the slightest, but she supposed heartbreak and anger was a drug of its own, and now that she was calmed down and more in her right mind, she was utterly terrified as to what this meant for the two of them.

Clearly Ben was thinking about the same, because he was miraculously up before even she was, and was just finishing up putting on the rest of his clothes. And he didn't look at all happy.

"Thank god you're up," he said, speaking quickly and anxiously. "Get up. Get dressed, you have to go."

Leslie's heart sank a little. She knew it was ridiculous to hope for, but she had almost wanted to stay. To talk to Ben about it. Maybe it could even mend whatever problems there were between the two of them. "Ben, wait—"

"No, Leslie, don't you dare start that on me now, okay?" He looked frantic, pacing back and forth. The way his hair stood up made it clear he wouldn't stop running his fingers through it. "This was a mistake. A huge, ginormous mistake, and it never should've happened. It was wrong."

His words hurt so badly it was like she had been punched, the impact hitting hard enough to release an actual gasp from her lips. Was he really so ashamed of her. "You… you don't… you don't want to…?"

"Please, Leslie. Please…. please go." He was softer now, desperately begging her, and for the first time in a very long time, she noticed actual tears in the corners of his eyes. Pain. Real, genuine pain that he couldn't conceal behind a rough exterior for once. It was heartbreak. "You don't understand what this did to me. What it means… it just hurts too much."

"Can't we just talk about it?"

"No," he said, and he tossed her clothes and a blanket at her. "Because just hearing your voice hurts too." A tear slipped down his cheek, and he instantly wiped it away. "I think it's best if we just pretend this never happened and go about our separate ways. Okay?"

She stared at him for a long time, studying the way he trembled under her gaze. Despite the fact that his real emotion was finally showing, and despite last night, this was the farthest Leslie had ever felt from Ben, as if he really was slipping away from her and she would never get him back.

"Okay," she whispered, and she pulled her clothes on and slipped out of his house without looking at him again. She couldn't look into his eyes, she couldn't, not anymore. If she had, she might never have been capable of leaving.

She felt so close to just saying "screw it."