A/N: This is just a dumb bit of fluff that was requested by parksandfluff.

It's literally, I dunno what... but it's literally just "Leslie pinches April's cheeks" in S2 (The Possum) because why not.

While running from the possum, a truly harrowing race around Ann's house that leaves April even more annoyed at the owner, it's clear in her head that she's going to have to call Andy. That, right then, sounds like the absolute worst thing on the planet and the last thing April wants to do. She doesn't need to confront him about anything, or be mad at him and ruin his one good day. Seriously, he shines shoes for a living and used to go to bed in a pit, what other days will Andy have that are as cool as being the local hero?

And, really, April hates that she did that. Why he couldn't just reciprocate was beyond her, but a tiny, almost nonexistent, part of her had a little bit of pity for him. She thinks that Leslie is going to make her call him, and it's so terrifying to think of the potential things he could do or what he might say to her, and how he might feel and that he probably just hates her now. Instead, relieving her, they just hide under the blankets and hope that the rodent will go away. Underneath the covers, it's awfully hot and Leslie is, thankfully, far away from April's personal space.

"You know," Leslie mutters, "I didn't expect you'd be this easy to get into bed."

April chuckles, but then frowns. "Ew, what?"

"No," Leslie sighs and April can make out, with the light dotting through the loosely stitched quilt, a smile on her face. "We should probably go and get that possum."

"Or we should stay here," April suggests, "and not have eggs laid in our ears or whatever it is that possums do."

"We could talk-"

"Not about boys," April quips.

"Not about boys," Leslie agrees, nodding under the covers.

An awkward silence follows and, really, it's an awkward situation. The last thing April expected that day was to run screaming into bed with Leslie Knope, and even less so to run away from an animal that could potentially rip her to shreds with its probably insane hunger for human flesh. At least, that's what April tells herself to rationalize hiding under covers like a little kid hides from monsters in their closet.

"What d'you wanna talk about?" Leslie asks, eyes lighting up in the dark that April grows used to. "Oh, you wanna hear the story of all the blankets and quilts and covers I make for Ann? They're all amazing and-"

"I really, really don't want to talk about Ann, either," April whispers, curling her legs up closer to her chest. She thinks for a moment about what to say, and if she needs to explain this to Leslie, and then comes up with the only thing she knows will work. "Please?"

Leslie gives her that same look and, something April will never forget and wishes could be burned away from her mind for the rest of time, she says, "Aww." What makes it terrible is that she keeps making that dumb, "Aww," and then proceeds to reach forward and pinch her dimples.

Like she's a child, Leslie Knope pinches her cheeks. Clearly realizing her error, Leslie pulls away and stares wide-eyed at April who, at that moment, is debating whether the possum or this awful, uncomfortable social interaction is worse. In her mind they might as well be the same. She wants to yell, and to ask Leslie never to do that again, and to smile because her hands were soft and it was actually kind-of nice, but also April just wants this weird, annoying day to end.

"How about we never talk about that, ever," April presents with a low voice like the possum will hear about it and tell others.

"Yep, that's probably a good idea," Leslie agrees and together they sit up in the bed and scan the room for the possum. "You think he's gone?"

"I guess-"

They're met with another weird, rumbling scratchy sound that they know is the little furry devil and retreat back under the covers in a haste. At least they agreed not to talk about it for the rest of their lives, but that doesn't mean April isn't going to remember this painful, awkward exchange that reminds her of something a mother would do. That part April neatly blocks out as well, trying not to think of that on top of the whole Andy mess, the Ann house crap, and the angry vermin stalking them.