Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Wait," Ann said, shaking her head in disbelief. "What?"

"It's a bib," Leslie clarified as she took it out of the box. "It says 'World's Best Aunt.'"

"I know what it is. I don't know what it – are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"

Leslie couldn't answer one way or another; she was processing the news just as much as Ann was.

"Oh my gosh, you are pregnant! You're pregnant!" Ann wrapped Leslie in a hug. She was truly excited for her best friend.

"Shhh," Leslie hushed her. "You can't tell anyone."

"Ben doesn't know?" Ann asked.

"No," she answered as she hung her head, slightly embarrassed. "It took me two weeks to figure out how to tell you! How am I supposed to tell him?"

"You just tell him," Ann replied. "He'll be ecstatic."

"I can't just tell him," Leslie said. "This is like the female's equivalent of proposing. Just telling him would be like, throwing a ring at a girl and saying 'what do you think?'"

Ann laughed and rolled her eyes. She should have known better. This was the woman who had a cake professionally decorated to tell her that she wouldn't be at work on Monday. "How are you going to do it?"

"I don't know," Leslie admitted. "I need a string quartet, no a jazz duo, no a small brass ensemble. I'll need three-dozen butterflies, some swans, an electrician, do you think we could get Morgan Freeman to do a voice-over? And a speechwriter. Gosh, Ben's my speechwriter. What if I told him that I was pregnant with another man's child and asked him to write a speech for me?" She had to stop to catch her breath. Her brain had been working at full speed since she had gone to the doctor two weeks ago. She wanted to tell Ben, and she wanted to tell him soon before she ending up saying it in her sleep, or blurting it out while they were brushing their teeth, but she had no idea how to begin. She wanted it to be perfect. He deserved for it to be perfect.

"Let's just slow down for a minute," Ann interceded. "Ben is going to be happy no matter how you tell him."

"You really think so?" Leslie asked.

"Of course I do. He loves you, Leslie. He's going to be so thrilled at the prospect of starting a family with you that he probably wouldn't care if you just left a note for him on the kitchen counter."

"Beautiful and wise, you really are the whole package, Ann Perkins."

Ann laughed at her friend. "So, were you, um, were you guys trying?"

"No. We'll, kind of. I don't know! We talked about trying. We talked about having kids, and we said we wanted them. So we were kind of talking about trying."

"You'll be a great mom," Ann said honestly. "You and Ben will make amazing parents."

Leslie smiled, thankful that she had a friend like Ann. "You're okay with this? I know you and Chris have been trying, and I'm not trying to steal your thunder. I just, I had to tell you."

"Leslie, I am so happy for you. I mean that."

Leslie smiled and nodded. She felt better already. "Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Ann rummaged in her bag and produced a small wrapped present.

"Did I miss one of our holidays?" Leslie asked as she took the gift and began to unwrap it. "Harry Potter Day? German Sausage Day? Microwave Peep Fight Day?"

Ann shook her head, "Just look inside."

Leslie opened the lid on the box, and Ann watched as her face turned to one of confusion, and then shock.

"It's a bib," Ann said. "'World's Best Aunt.'"

"Ann…."

Ann smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "I'm pregnant too."

Chapter Text

Ben kept a tight grip on Leslie's arm as he guided her through the parking lot. It was honestly a miracle that she was able to walk on her own. He was still in shock over her ability to give a speech like she just had in her current condition. It had been amazing. No, he corrected himself. She had been amazing.

"I don't want to go back to the hospital," Leslie whined as Ben continued to guide her to his car.

"Well, that's too bad," Ben replied as he helped her into the vehicle. "Because that is exactly where I'm taking you. You're burning up, and you probably have enough doses of flu medicine in your system right now to put you in a coma."

"Ann will be mad at me, and they'll send me to jail because I stole all that flu medicine, and if they send me to jail, I'll never be president. Or, I'll be the first president with a jail record, which would mean I'd be breaking barriers for women and convicts, so that might turn out okay-"

"I don't think they'll send you to jail," Ben cut her off before she had the opportunity to continue rambling. "And I'm sure Ann will understand." Ben noticed she was struggling with her seat belt and reached around her to help fasten it.

"Hey, watch it there, Hands McGee," Leslie slurred as Ben clicked the belt into place. "If you want the cow for free, you have to buy the milk."

Ben laughed and shook his head, trying to hide the slight shade of red he could feel his cheeks turning. "You don't have any idea what you're saying right now, do you?"

"I am completely alert," Leslie argued. "100,000 percent a-l-r-e-r-r-u-t."

"I don't think that's how you spell alert."

Leslie looked up at him, "I wasn't trying to spell alert. I was spelling Mississippi."

"Alright," Ben said as he dropped her bag down at her feet. "Let's get you back."

Leslie pouted with her arms crossed like a toddler, and Ben couldn't help but smile as he walked around the vehicle and climbed in the driver's seat. It had been a roller coaster of a day. He hadn't planned on Leslie getting the flu and him having to give the Harvest Festival pitch to the business owners of Pawnee, and then when Leslie unexpectedly showed up at the meeting, he certainly hadn't counted on her presenting it as smoothly as she did. It didn't just go smoothly, it was incredible. Her ability to push aside her own problems and focus on the greater good of the community had left him speechless, with sweaty palms and a racing heart, a stupid goofy smile that wouldn't go away and that made him feel like he was back in high school about ready to ask the girl in calculus to prom. But the most unexpected event to happen that day was a sudden, undeniable urge to stay in Pawnee just a little bit longer if for nothing else than to get to know Leslie Knope just a little better.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a really nice butt?" Leslie asked as Ben opened his door and sat down.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Your butt," she repeated. "It's gorgeous."

"I…um, thanks?" Ben could definitely feel his face reddening now. He wasn't sure how to respond or what to do. The only thing he was fairly certain of was that Leslie wouldn't remember this conversation the next day.

"Seriously," she continued as Ben started the car and took off for the hospital. "It's like the Mona Lisa of butts."

"Hey, you did a great job today," he said trying to refocus the conversation on anything besides his ass. "Your speech was amazing."

Leslie cocked her head to the side and knitted her eyebrows together, "I gave a speech today?"

Ben was able to catch a quick glace at her before he turned his gaze back to the road. He couldn't help but smile at the way her nose wrinkled when her eyebrows were pulled together as they were. "Yeah," he replied. "You-it was wonderful."

"Huh," Leslie seemed to contemplate this for a moment before nearly yelling, "I know what we should do! Let's recreate the Hunger Games using famous people from Pawnee's history. I call Leslie Knope!"

"I'm not sure if that's a great idea," Ben replied.

"Why not, Ben? It's the 19th century."

Ben laughed, "Actually it's the 21st century, and I'm not sure how the public would respond to you enlisting people to fight to the death."

Leslie sighed and was quiet for a moment, just long enough for Ben to wonder if the medicine was starting to wear off. "Do you do squats?"

"What?" Ben asked, taken aback by her random question.

"Your butt," she was back at it again, "is it squats? Is that why it's so amazing?"

Ben rubbed at his temples. What's amazing, he thought, is that the one thing she can come back to with any clarity at all is my butt. "You got me," he lied as he put one hand up in a surrendering gesture. "It's squats."

"Don't ever stop."

"I won't," he promised. "How are you feeling?" he asked, again trying to refocus the conversation on anything else.

"I feel great!" she replied, waving it off as though it was an unwarranted question.

"Really, because your looking kind of-."

"I'm just a little tired," Leslie mumbled, cutting him off. "I'm going to-" Before she could even finish her sentence her head dropped back, and Ben could hear the rhythmic pattern of her breathing.

He chuckled softly and snuck a glance at the petite blonde in the seat next to him. There was something about her that Ben couldn't exactly put his finger on. She was fiercely passionate about everything. She was genuine. She was funny and brilliant. And even as she was in her drugged and sick state, her head flung back, her mouth slightly open, her hair a complete mess, she was beautiful. He needed to talk to Chris. There had to be some way to stay in Pawnee just a little bit longer.

Chapter Text

"I'm bored," April whined as she kicked her legs back and forth over the side of Andy's shoeshine bench.

"Well," Andy said as he continued stacking bottles of shoe polish on top of each other. "We could go hide all of Jerry's stuff in the girl's bathroom."

April considered Andy's suggestion for a moment, and then decided that the opportunity wasn't worth the chance of Leslie finding her and making her run errands for the latest project to save the beached whales of Pawnee or whatever. "Let's do something else," she said as she rested her head on the back of the bench.

"We could make out again," Andy suggested, briefly looking up from his shoe polish tower to see if April was into the idea.

"We've already done that five times today," April replied.

"Well, babe, I'm out of ideas."

"That was only two ideas, Andy." April pulled her head back up and watched her boyfriend carefully put the last bottle of polish on the top of his pyramid. Falling in love with Andy wasn't something she had really expected. She wasn't one for getting caught up in any sort of emotions, but with Andy, that was hard to remember. She loved him and he loved her. She could be herself around him, and he made her laugh. That was all she needed.

Falling in love with April hadn't been something Andy expected either. He had always liked her, but had been reluctant to start anything because of how much younger she was than him. When he finally decided he didn't care about that anymore, there was no stopping him. April was the coolest person he had ever met. She was gorgeous and smart. He wanted to be around her all the time, even if she was in a bad mood or didn't want to make out.

"You know what we should do?" he said. "We should get married."

"What?" April asked, nearly choking on the sip of soda she just took.

"Yeah," Andy said as he leaned over the counter. "That would solve all our problems! Burly's looking for another person to move into our place, plus your parents have that insane curfew so I wouldn't have to keep sneaking into your place, and married people are never bored. They just have sex all the time."

April's head was spinning. Surely he was kidding. "Andy, none of those are reasons to get married."

"Well, how about this," he said as he walked around the counter so he was kneeling in front of her. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

April still couldn't believe what he was doing. She kicked her legs back over the side of the chair so that she was sitting up in front of him and squeezed his hands. "Andy, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you too, but we can't just decide to get married today!" She was trying hard to be the voice of reason, even though every bit of her wanted to run off with him today.

"It doesn't have to be today," he argued. Sometimes girls could be so difficult. "We'll invite a whole bunch of people over tomorrow night and ask them all to bring stuff, and then we could surprise them all by getting married. It would be the coolest surprise fancy party wedding ever!"

April bit her lower lip, she was trying so hard to say no, but she couldn't. Not when she wanted to badly to spend the rest of her life with Andy. "And you really want to marry me?" she asked. "Like, this isn't some stupid joke and in a week, or five months, or ten years you're just going to divorce me?"

"I would never divorce you, April," he said as he held her hands in his. "Unless, I get abducted by aliens and they brainwashed me. Hey! Do you think that's why I don't like fish stick pizza anymore?"

"Andy, this is serious!" April said as she gently hit him on the shoulder, hoping that would help to refocus him.

"I am serious! We'll get a Justice of the Peace, and we'll make everyone else bring all the other stuff, like Chris can bring a cake, and Ben can bring Avatar. They'll think it's just a party, and then bam! We get married. It will be awesome, babe!"

"What about a ring?" April asked.

Andy scratched his head. "Dang it, I did not think about that. And it's like illegal to get married without a ring, right? Like it doesn't count?"

Now that April had finally found the loophole in his plan, she was sorry she had. She wanted to marry Andy Dwyer. She didn't care about a ring. "Hey!" she called to a teenager dressed in Goth clothing, with fingers full of rings, walking past.

"What?" the girl asked gruffly.

"Do you have like a ring or something that we could have?"

"What?" the girl repeated.

"A ring," Andy said. "I'll give you five bucks for it."

"Are you crazy?" the girl asked and started to walk away.

"I'll give you ten bucks!" Andy called after her.

"Twenty," the girl said stopping and looking back at him to gauge just how desperate he was.

"Twenty-five," said Andy, with a smug smile on his face, "But not a penny more."

The girl looked him up and down to see if he was serious, but when she saw he was already pulling the money out of his wallet, she decided he was and handed over a thin silver band.

"Hun!" Andy said proudly as he turned around to show April. April couldn't believe it. Andy was serious about this. He was serious about wanting to spend the rest of his life with her. "So, what do you say?" he asked as he got back down on one knee. "April Ludgate, will you do me the honor of marrying me at a kick-ass fancy party surprise wedding?"

"Fine," she shrugged as she tried to suppress a smile.

Chapter Text

"And that concludes my presentation," Leslie said as she flipped the lights back on and closed the lid of her laptop. "Any questions?"

Ben sat on the couch in their living room with his right ankle resting on his left knee and his arms crossed in front of his chest. "My answer is still no."

"Did you even look at my handout?" Leslie asked as she walked over and sat down next to her husband.

"I read your handout, and I loved it," he replied as he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her back into him.

"Your flattery won't work on me, Mr. Wyatt," Leslie said, knowing exactly how Ben intended to derail her argument by making her remember exactly how much she loved him, which was quite a lot, even in situations like this where he was known to be difficult. "Now, what do you have against naming our child after a part of our nation's history?"

Ben sighed, he was pretty positive Leslie had been preparing for this argument since the moment he proposed. Honestly though, he should have seen it coming. "It's not that I'm against naming our son after a piece of history. It's that I'm questioning whether JJ's Diner has the qualifications needed to be considered a historical landmark."

Leslie automatically sent an elbow into Ben's side.

"Ouch!" he laughed as he rubbed his side. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry," Leslie said, even though she really wasn't that sorry at all. Ben had known her for almost four years, and in those four years, she had spent roughly $3,750 on waffles alone from JJ's Diner. How could he sit here and say JJ's wasn't a historic landmark and not expect an elbow in his gut?

"I can't believe that you just said that JJ's wasn't a historical landmark," she continued as she shifted on the couch so she could look at her husband. "Honestly, Ben, the only people who would argue that JJ's isn't an integral part of this great nation's past and subsequent future, are terrorists. Oh my god," she said as she turned to look at him, and Ben could see that little light switch on in the back of her of brain, the one that made everything she was thinking come right out. He loved her most in those moments. "Are you a terrorist? Did they send you to kidnap me and hold me ransom so that Obama will turn over all of our nuclear weapons? We'll, he's stronger than that Ben, we do not give into terrorism, and I'm more than willing to sacrifice my life so long as Kate Upton plays me in the movie."

All Ben could do was stare at his wife as she continued to talk faster than he could comprehend. "Did you just accuse me of being a terrorist?" Ben smiled when he finally got the chance to cut Leslie off.

"I think it's a reasonable accusation," Leslie argued back. "Are you really shutting the idea of JJ down?"

Ben exhaled, exhausted by his loving wife's efforts to pick the perfect name for their child. "I'm not shutting it down," he said. "It's just that, we still have seven months to figure this out, and we don't even know if it's a boy. Can't we at least look at some other options?" He motioned to the Top 100 Baby Names book he had brought as his research.

"First off, I am 100% positive that this," she told him as she pointed to her stomach, "is a boy. And second," Leslie said as she curled her legs underneath her and wrapped her arms back around Ben, "we have to start looking at names now because you're causing so many roadblocks."

"I'm causing roadblocks?" he asked. "You wear me out, Knope."

Leslie reached around Ben for her binder and flipped it open on Ben's lap. "What about Clinton, and we could call him Clint for short?" she suggested as she flipped to a section labeled "Boy's Names."

"You mean after Bill Clinton?" Ben asked. "The man who was impeached because he cheated on his wife with an intern?"

"No," Leslie answered as if his question was one of the silliest anyone had ever asked, "after Hillary Clinton, the woman who ran our country for eight years why her husband was off playing tonsil hockey with teenagers."

"You want to name our son after a girl?" Ben asked as he silently vowed to himself that he would never let his wife, no matter how much he loved her, name their son after a woman.

Leslie moved out of his arms again. "A woman who helped shape the course of this great nation, yes!"

Ben couldn't help but smile. He loved that they had to have this conversation; he loved that he and Leslie were going to have a baby, a little piece of both of them. And he loved that his wife was so grounded in the history of her town and nation that she wanted to interweave it into their child's name, but Ben grew up around boys, and he knew how they could tease and joke. "How about something like Bruce or Peter?"

"Yeah, nice try," she smiled as she patted his cheek. "If I can't name him after a historical figure, you can't name him after a superhero."

Ben caught her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Leslie pulled him down to her lips and let him kiss her in a way, that even after three years of being together, still made her head spin and her toes curl.

"See what I mean?" she asked when he pulled away. "Roadblocks."

"I think Bruce Knope Wyatt has a nice ring to it," he tried again.

Leslie sighed. "If you want our son working in an entry-level position at Kinkos, then I'm all for it."

"Okay," he said. "How about we both take the next three days to think of names. We'll make lists and then reconvene. There has to be at least one name we both agree on."

"Okay," she said as she moved so she could see him. "Three days, but you can expect another PowerPoint, and quite frankly, I won't take you seriously if you don't do the same."

Ben laughed and kissed Leslie's forehead. "I love you," he told her truthfully.

"I love you too," she smiled at him. "But don't think that's going to stop me from taking you down."

Ben rested his head against the couch and smiled to himself. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Chapter Text

"Leslie?"

"Shh," Leslie hushed Ann as she quickly shut the door to Ann's office and began closing the blinds, careful to duck out of view of the windows she had yet to hit.

"What are you doing?" Ann asked, too confused to move from her seat behind her desk. "And what are you wearing?"

Leslie had on a long, black trench coat along with a red wig and large, round sunglasses. "No one can know I'm here," she whispered as the last window was covered and she began looking under the shade of the standing lamp that Ann kept in the corner of her office.

"Leslie, what is going on?" Ann asked. She stood up and walked over to her best friend who was now on the ground inspecting the underside of a chair. Strangely, this was not the weirdest way Leslie had ever entered her office.

"I'm looking for bugs," Leslie said as she crawled over on her hands and knees to inspect the bottom of Ann's desk.

"Gross," Ann replied. "I don't have bugs in my office."

"No, not those bugs, like CIA bugs. You know the kind that record what you're saying?"

"Okay," Ann's voice strained trying to retain some since of control, "What is going on?"

Leslie took off the sunglasses, wig, and coat and dropped them on the floor. "No one can know I'm here," she said as she sat down in the chair on the opposite side of Ann's desk.

"Why not?" Ann questioned as she returned to her seat as well. She was still at a loss as to what was going on. Knowing Leslie, it could be anything.

"The walls have ears, Ann," she replied, making Ann even more confused.

"Is this about Ben?" Ann asked, taking a stab in the dark.

"Shhh!" Leslie hushed her once more. She looked around the room as if Chris might appear straight out of the bookcase to reprimand her. But there was a growing part of Leslie that didn't care about the consequences of her actions, especially when last night's actions have been so absolutely…perfect. Leslie took out her phone and quickly texted her friend. When Ann's phone vibrated Leslie nodded toward it with such force that, for a moment, Ann thought that her friend was having a seizure.

Ann picked up her phone and read the text: "New code- Ben is now Flynn." Ann looked up at Leslie who gave her a pleading stare. She almost texted her back to ask what kind of name Flynn was, but she had long ago promised she wouldn't be one of those people who texted their best friend when they were in the same room.

"Is this about Flynn?" Ann repeated, using the new code.

Leslie nodded. "I kissed him. Well, he kissed me first, but then I kissed him back, a lot. And then he kissed me back even more, and then-"

"Okay," Ann said holding up a hand to stop her. "I got your iMovie, which pretty much brought me up to speed on the kissing and…other things."

"How great is iMovie?" Leslie asked relaxing enough for her to get sidetracked for just a moment.

"It's pretty great," Ann said to appease her friend. "And congratulations about B-Flynn. It's about time." Ann was truly happy for her best friend. She deserved a great guy like Ben, and she knew him and Leslie had been tiptoeing around the idea of a relationship for months.

"No," Leslie said as she shook her head. "It's not great. Well, it was great, I mean it was really great," Leslie's voice dropped and she gave Ann a knowing stare. "But it was also not great. I mean, we could both get fired! And if I get fired, that's it for my career in politics, and the closest I'd ever to be to working in government again, would be at the library." It took Leslie a minute for her brain to catch up with what her mouth was saying, but Ann could see the second it did. Leslie's eyes went wide and a look of panic crossed her face. The only thing she hated more than the library was Eagleton, and the only thing she hated more than Eagleton was the Eagleton library. She'd rather take her chances on the street. "Oh my gosh, Ann. I'm going to be homeless."

"Leslie," Ann tried to interrupt her as she put a reassuring hand on Leslie's.

"No, Ann. Nothing that you say could make me consider possibly working with those blood-sucking, bifocal wearing, book pushing, know-it-alls. I'll take my chances with the raccoons."

"Let's just take a deep breath," Ann suggested as she demonstrated for Leslie. "And remember that no one has been fired yet."

"Oh Ann, you beautiful, naïve, baby lioness," Leslie said as rested her forehead on the edge of Ann's desk and looked down at the heels she had discarded as soon as she sat down. "It's not your fault. You've never had to follow the rules because your Kardashian level looks and Noble Prize intellect have exempted you."

"You think I look like a Kardashian?" Ann asked, not sure whether to take it as a compliment. "Never mind," she said shaking her head.

"I need you to run down my options with me," Leslie said looking up at her. "I need a Pro/Con list."

"Alright!" Ann replied, jumping into full supportive best friend mode. She pulled out a legal pad and a pen. "Let's do it!"

Two hours later, the list had a whooping total of 73 items on it that ranged from such as things such as "Pro-he's sweet" to "Pro-his butt," which Leslie passionately argued should count as two pros because it was just as much fun to look at as it was to touch. There were only two items listed in the con column: 1. Con-I'm pretty sure he writes fanfiction.

"It's not completely bad," Leslie had told her, "it's just a little nerdy."

"Aren't you writing a book about Pawnee?" Ann retaliated. "That's basically historical fanfiction."

Ann made her cross it out. Which only left 2. Con-We could both lose our jobs.

"It's 72 to 1," Ann said.

"Yeah, but that one is really big."

Ann put her pen down and looked at the sheet. She knew this was tough for Leslie, but she also believed Leslie wanted to be with Ben, and she wanted to see her friend happy. "Well, you've got three options. You can either date him and tell Chris that you're dating him, date him and not tell anyone, or you can stop doing whatever exactly it is that you two are doing."

Leslie felt her stomach turn into a knot. She had told herself for several months to stay away from Ben Wyatt, but it hadn't work. He was gravity, constantly pulling her back into him, and after last night, staying away from Ben definitely wouldn't be an option anymore. Leslie loved her job, she had always loved her job, but somewhere over the course of the past seven months something had shifted. She loved work, but she also really liked Ben, and there was a part of her that grew with each day that he was in her life that blurred the lines even more between the fear that she should feel about the potential of being fired and the overwhelming need she had to see where she and Ben might end up.

"Ann," Leslie said as she looked up from the list. "You have to promise me right now that if I lose my job, you will let me live in your basement, and no matter how desperate it looks, I need for you to promise to shoot me before it comes to me applying at the library."

Ann nodded, "I promise," she said. "Does that mean that that pros win?"

Leslie took a deep breath; she wasn't sure what she was doing or what the ramifications would be, but she couldn't wait to find out. "The pros win."

Chapter Text

"Hey there," Ann said as she put down her bag and kissed her husband on the cheek before sitting next to him on the couch.

"Ann Traeger!" Chris enthusiastically announced as he adjusted the sleeping four-year old on his lap and wrapped his free arm around his wife. "How was the forum?"

"Long," Ann replied. She slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet underneath her. "But Leslie was great, as always. I think we got all the signatures we needed." She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself relax for the first time that day. "How long has he been asleep?" she whispered as her gaze moved to the little boy asleep on Chris's lap.

"Connor passed out about forty-five minutes ago. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Ann smiled at her son who had his head buried in Chris's chest and brushed his tussled brown hair back from his eyes. There were times when Ann looked at Connor and all she could see was a miniature Chris. The only trace of Ann came from his olive skin and round, brown eyes. Everything else was his father's. He had Chris's thick, brown hair, his slim-build, and his enthusiasm for life.

"How was your day?" she asked as she straightened the hem of Connor's Nike shirt. He insisted on dressing just like his dad, and now they were both sporting Nike shirts with black running shorts. Ann's smile grew wider.

"It was terrific," Chris grinned at his wife. "I picked Connor up from daycare, and we made turkey burgers and a walnut salad for supper, we even left you some in the kitchen. Then we went for a bike ride to Ramset Park, and played there for a little bit before we came back home and set off on a series of play that alternated between superheroes, pirates, superhero pirates, and dinosaurs. I am literally exhausted."

Ann could imagine just how their evening had played out. Their son had inherited Chris's energy, and he would run and play and go a million miles per hour, until he got so tired that he would curl up on a lap and be asleep in five minutes.

"Me too," she chuckled. "Who would have thought that something so little and joyful could be so tiring."

Chris smiled down at his wife and son. Falling in love with Ann had been a marathon. It was something that was slow and steady. Chris liked Ann long before they were finally pregnant, but it was seeing Ann be a mother to his son that made him realize just how much he really loved her, and when Ann realized the feeling was mutual, they didn't waste anytime getting married.

"He missed you tonight," he could smell her lavender scented shampoo as he closed his eyes and breathed his wife in. He let his lips find that place just behind her ear. "So did his dad."

Ann gasped a little as Chris's lips found their way to her jaw. "I missed you guys too," she told him as she met him with her lips. He kissed her long and deep, and Ann could feel herself melting into him. She put a hand to his chest and pulled her lips away from his. "Do you want to put Connor to bed?"

"I think that is a great idea," Chris replied emphasizing the word great.

Ann followed Chris back to Connor's room where she moved the toys off his bed and pulled the covers down. She watched as Chris carefully laid their son in his tiny bed. She pulled the covers up around his neck and tucked his stuffed dinosaur under his arm.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she whispered as she kissed his cheek.

She watched in awe as Chris kneeled down to brush the hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. Like everything Chris did, he excelled at being a father.

"What?" Chris asked when he caught Ann staring at him from the doorway where she was standing.

"Nothing," Ann smiled. "I just love you, like a lot."

Chris smiled back at her, "I love you too."

Ann wrapped her arms around his neck and let her lips find his. Chris opened her mouth with his and drank her in as his hands traveled in small circles down her spine. He led her out of the room, moving one hand from Ann's waist to reach behind him to shut Connor's door.

Chris worked his kisses down her jawline until they found the nape of her neck, and he could hear Ann sigh contentedly.

"Careful," Ann teased, "I'm pretty sure this is what started that," she said as she pointed to Connor's room.

Chris placed one last kiss on her lips and reached into his pocket to produce a piece of paper.

"What's that?" Ann asked.

"It's a picture Connor drew today at daycare," Chris told her as he handed it to his wife.

Ann took the paper and carefully unfolded it. In his best four-year-old drawing, Connor's picture showed four people all holding hands.

"That's me," Chris pointed to the tallest person, "and that's you," he said pointing to the girl in the skirt. "And, that is Connor," he said pointing to the little boy that Connor had drawn with a big check mark on his shirt.

"Who's that?" Ann asked as she pointed to the fourth person.

"That," Chris smiled, "is his little sister."

"His little sister?" Ann chuckled, "is there something you need to tell me?"

"Well," Chris said as he moved his hands to Ann's waist, "Connor and I have been talking, and we think it'd be a good idea for him to be a big brother."

"You and Connor have been talking?" Ann smiled.

"We have," Chris continued. "And we both think that it'd be nice to have another girl in the house. Especially, if there's any chance that that little girl will be anything like her mother."

Ann could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She and Chris had talked about having more children, and they both agreed they wanted them, and lately it seemed that Ann couldn't pass a baby without aching for the chance to expand her own family. So now, with her husband standing before her, telling her that he was ready to take that next step, well, it was things like this that made her love him even more when she wasn't sure it possible to do so.

"A little girl?" Ann asked, letting the idea roll around in mind.

"Um-hum," Chris hummed as he pressed his forehead to Ann's.

"And what if we have another boy?" Ann asked.

"Then that little boy will be the luckiest boy in the world."

Ann smiled as she closed her eyes and kept her forehead rested against her husband's. She could see him, a little pink bundle in his arms, being as gentle and perfect as he was with Connor. She wanted that, more than anything else.

"What do you think?" Chris asked softly.

Ann took a deep. "I think, I'm all for it," she said. "As long as we can start trying now."

"Ann Traeger," Chris smiled, "that is literally the best idea you have ever had."

Chapter Text

Leslie's eyes bobbed open sleepily as she buried her head into Ben's bare chest.

"Good morning," he said softly as he pushed the blonde strands of hair away from her eyes.

"Hmm," Leslie hummed into his chest as she absentmindedly let her fingers run across his skin. She felt oddly well rested, a feeling she hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing for years. "What time is it?"

"7:30," Ben replied.

"Mmm," Leslie hummed again. She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten to wake up so late. They had let them sleep in, a rare gift these days. "How long have you been awake?"

"Only for an hour or so," he told her as his hand drew lazy circles on her back.

"You could have moved me," she mumbled. "You didn't have to wait for me to wake up."

Ben smiled at Leslie, at the way that she sprawled herself over him when she slept. She would start off on her side of the bed, the right side, but inevitably around two in the morning, Ben would feel a leg drape over his own and those perpetually cold feet would graze his calf. A few seconds later, an arm would snake around his waist, and then her head would bury into his chest, and she'd stay like that until she woke up the next morning, which was usually somewhere between four and four-thirty. But Ben loved it; he loved the way she would cling to him in her sleep. He cherished those few hours where he simply got to hold her. "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "And miss the chance to spend another hour in bed with you? I wouldn't have traded it for anything."

Leslie smiled, "They'll be up soon."

"I know," Ben replied. "Do you think if we lock the door, they'll leave us alone?"

Leslie laughed, "The lock doesn't work, and they're sneaky. They'd find a way in, or they'd kill each other first. There's no hiding from them."

Ben groaned and silently cursed himself for not fixing that lock yet, but Leslie was right. They'd have to do more than just lock the door to keep them out.

"But," Leslie said as she rolled over so that she was straddling Ben's lap. "They're not awake yet."

Gosh, he loved her. Ben pulled her down into his kiss and rolled her over so he was on top of her. He would never be able to get enough of this. He kissed her eagerly, knowing that they were already being blessed with these few minutes alone and not being sure how much longer they would have. He almost had her tank top off when they heard the slapping of feet on the hardwood floors.

"Ben," Leslie warned between kisses. "They're up."

"They'll be alright," Ben gruffly replied from somewhere in the back of his throat.

He knows how sexy he is when he does that, Leslie thought, and for a moment, she didn't care if they walked in on them.

"They're going to need help with breakfast," Leslie tried again as Ben placed sloppy kisses down her collarbone, stopping at that one point just at the edge of her shoulder that he knew drove her crazy.

"They're…old enough… to get… their own," He replied, kissing her the whole time.

Ben was right, they were old enough to get their own breakfast. Maybe they would leave them alone for just a little bit longer.

Their fantasy was short lived as they heard the stampede coming down the hallway. They pushed off each other just as Andy and April came flying through their door.

"Woah, were you guys doing it?" Andy laughed as he watched Ben grab for a shirt off his nightstand and Leslie awkwardly readjust her shirt as they sat up in bed.

"Gross," April complained.

"If it's that gross," Ben suggested, "maybe you should just not come in my room. Ever."

"But we're hungry," Andy whined. "And we want pancakes."

"You're both adults," Ben answered. "You can make yourself pancakes."

"Um, actually," Leslie corrected him, "I told them that they weren't allowed to use the stove anymore because if you remember the last time-"

"Yeah," Ben groaned. "I remember the last time." The last time Andy and April tried to use the oven, Ben had come home to three fire trucks lining the street outside their home. Andy had been using it as a place to store his shoes and had forgotten to take them out before turning it on to make a pizza.

"So are you going to make us pancakes or not?" April asked, growing impatient.

"No," Leslie said. "We will not make you pancakes."

Ben was impressed. Leslie was finally standing up to them. She was going to put an end to their childish ways. She was going to pull out that Leslie Knope spirit and make them grow up.

"Because pancakes are an evil, distant, repugnant cousin to waffles," she continued. "They're like Eagleton compared to Pawnee, like Splenda compared to sugar, like present day Lindsay Lohan compared to the Parent Trap Lindsay Lohan. I will make you waffles, but I will not allow pancakes in this house."

April looked to Andy to see if they were going to accept the trade; Andy's big goofy smile told her they were.

"Fine," April answered, "but you have to let us watch TV in here."

"What's wrong with the TV in the living room?" Ben asked.

Andy looked at his feet sheepishly. "I was practicing my karate yesterday, and I'm still learning how to control my powers, so I accidentally kicked it over and now it won't turn on."

Ben rested his head in his hands. He needed to move out.

"So, about those waffles…" Andy asked.

"Yeah," Leslie replied, as she took Ben by the hand and led him out of the room. Andy and April both took running leaps on Ben's bed and flipped the TV on to some Saturday morning cartoon.

"Our kids-" Ben stopped himself. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Sure, he had dreams about being a father to Leslie Knope's children. Sometimes they were so vivid, that he could close his eyes and see a little blonde-haired, pig-tailed girl crawling into his arms and asking him to play. But he hadn't meant to say it out loud, not to Leslie, not just yet.

"Will not be like that," Leslie finished, un-phased by the fact that Ben was thinking of having children with her. She smiled and let the conversation drop for now because she could tell Ben was a little embarrassed. "Why don't you move in with me?" she asked as she got out the waffle maker.

Ben started a pot of coffee and got two mugs from the cupboard. "No offense, but your house is kind of a scary nightmare, hoarder mess."

"Did you memorize that off the health report?" Leslie asked recognizing that wording for somewhere.

Ben shook his head no. He loved Leslie, he wanted a life with Leslie, but her house scared him. It scared him so much that living with Andy and April was actually the better option even if it meant morning ambushes and cooking them waffles like they were infants.

"Well," Leslie said as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her kiss. "We can finish what we started when they're napping this afternoon."

Ben smiled against her lips as she placed a final kiss there and turned back to her waffles.

He definitely needed to move out.

"Where are you going?" Leslie asked as he grabbed his keys off the counter and headed for the door.

Ben did care if he was still in his pajamas. He couldn't let Andy and April interrupt another morning with Leslie. "The hardware store," he called over his shoulder. He had serious plans to invest in a deadbolt.

Chapter Text

Ben," Leslie whispered.

"Hmm," Ben hummed into the back of her neck.

"Ben," Leslie whispered again, this time more forcefully.

"What?" he asked as he sat up straight in bed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Leslie laughed as she turned onto her opposite side so she could see him and propped herself up on her elbow.

"Then why did you wake me up at three in the morning?" Ben asked as he moved a piece of hair out of his wife's face.

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" Ben repeated, as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Leslie rested her hand on her over-sized stomach and felt a small kick in agreement. "We're starving!"

"You woke me up at three in the morning to tell me that you're hungry."

"Your wife and your unborn child, Ben!"

Ben smiled as he pulled his wife into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. If given the chance, he believed he could hold her like this forever.

"And what do my girls want to eat?" he asked as he kissed Leslie's head. His hand wandered to her rounded stomach and let it rest there. The little infant gave a tiny kick to the palm of Ben's hand, and Ben smiled. It was a game that he loved to play to annoy his wife.

Leslie rolled her eyes at him, but she loved how great of a father he already was. Leslie had been so sure in the early months of her pregnancy that the baby was a boy, but Ben was the one who had known all along that they were going to a have a little girl, and that little girl already had him wrapped around her finger, which was helpful in times like these.

"Waffles."

"Waffles," Ben repeated, as he moved his hand a little to left which sent his daughter kicking again at the change in target. He should have guessed. His wife had always loved waffles, and it seemed that passion had only grown deeper since she started eating for two.

"Please," Leslie added smiling up at him. How was he ever supposed to say no to her? If his daughter inherited those bright blue eyes, heaven help him, he was sure he'd never be able to say no to anything again.

"Alright," Ben sighed, placing one final kiss on Leslie's forehead. "I'll go make waffles."

"We want JJ's waffles," Leslie added, that same innocent smile on her face.

"You're kidding me," he laughed. "Ann and I got that waffle maker from JJ's diner. I'll make them in that, and they'll taste just like JJ's."

"Ben," she protested. "I love that waffle maker. The day you and Ann gave that to me was the eleventh best day of my life, but it's special. You know your little Star Wars toys that you keep in the closet and won't take out of the boxes? The waffle maker is the same way."

"Okay, first off," Ben argued, "they are Star Trek. And second, they are action figures, not toys. And those action figures just might put our daughter though college one day."

Leslie laughed and rolled her eyes at her husband. She had heard this speech before. "Of course," she laughed.

"So, just to get this straight, you want me to go to JJ's at 3:15 in the morning to get you waffles?"

"For me and your daughter," Leslie corrected him.

Ben chuckled to himself, "Was it really the 11th best day of your life?"

"I have my top 100 typed, alphabetized, and indexed in a binder in the office if you don't believe me!"

Ben shook his head. He believed her. Her office was nothing but binders, binders of ideas and accomplishments and memories. Leslie Knope chronicled everything. It was one of the many things that he loved about her.

"What was your eighth best day?" he asked.

"The day I met Ann," she replied as if she had the binder right in front of her.

"And your fifth best?" he asked.

"The day after we went up to Indianapolis to fight for the little league tourney."

"That," he smiled as he kissed her head, "was an excellent day."

Leslie hummed in agreement.

"What was your second best day?" he asked.

"The second best hasn't happened yet, but I'm reserving that day for the birth of our daughter, even though after all the books I've read and the movies I've watched, the day itself might not be so great, but I'm sure that our child will be, so I'm saving that day," she yawned as her eyelids bobbed. "And my best day ever was the day I got to marry you."

Ben's smile cut through the dark of their bedroom, "Yeah," he replied. "That's number one my list too."

Leslie nodded against his chest, and he could feel her rhythmic breathing against his skin as he played with a loose curl of her blonde hair. His own eyes bobbed, heavy with sleep, and he had almost slipped away when his wife stirred.

"So about those waffles…"

Ben sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah," he groaned as he placed a final kiss on her head. "I'll be right back."

Chapter Text

"Ben Wyatt!" Chris announced enthusiastically when Ben entered their small office just a few minutes before eight.

"Hey," Ben grunted, his head still pounding from the beers he'd drank the night before. He put his messenger bag down on the floor by his desk and saw that Chris had taken the liberty to set a handful of different vitamins by his computer.

"I had a fantastic time last night," Chris buzzed as he started his morning yoga routine.

"That's great," Ben replied, not even trying to sound sincere. He felt like crap, but not just from his hangover. His night had not been fantastic; it had been the exact opposite. For the second time that day, Ben had been yelled at by Leslie Knope who, no matter how hard he tried to make her see differently, believe that Ben was here to single-handedly destroy everything she believed in. In her eyes, he probably ranked somewhere between Lee Harvey Oswald and Hitler.

Ben's lack of enthusiasm was lost on Chris. "What do you know about Ann Perkins?" he asked as he took a relaxing breath and moved into Downward Dog.

"Um, I know that she and Leslie Knope from the Parks Department are good friends," he said as he waited for his email to load. A vision of the two of them from last night shot through his head. It was the second time that day Leslie had yelled at him. Grant it, she was drunk, but still, what had it been that she had called him – "a cold, calloused person?" He had been called worse, much worse, but somehow being called The Son of Death hadn't land such a hard punch as Leslie's "cold." He let his head sink into his hands as he ran his fingers through his hair. "They were pretty gone last night. Why, what are you thinking?"

"I think Ann Perkins is a smart, intelligent, and lovely human being," he replied moving into a cradle position, "and I think we would be romantically compatible."

"Really?" Ben asked as he scrolled through his email. He had 11 memos from Leslie Knope asking for additional funding for projects ranging from a new park she wanted to build in some lot that used to be called "The Pit" to her desire to play old school rap music through the City Hall intercom system on Fridays. He closed the browser and swallowed the vitamins Chris had left on his desk. "She doesn't really seem like your type."

Chris agreed; she wasn't his usual "type." He usually dated spandex wearing, marathon running, stable women, and as far as he knew, Ann Perkins was none of those things. He had only encountered her twice, neither time had she been in proper running attire, and although she had amazing calves, they weren't those of a dedicated runner. He was also fairly certain that stable women did not get drunk and kiss strangers in bars. But there was something about her that Chris had not been able to shake. Even during his morning 15K he caught himself humming Danger Zone while he found her jogging through his thoughts with her round, brown eyes and her glowing smile.

"You are 100 percent correct," Chris answered moving his body forward into Cobra. "But I am certain I would enjoy learning more about her over dinner."

"Well then go for it," Ben replied, a little resentful that Chris always put him in the position to play bad cop. Ben wasn't a bad guy, but when it came to him and Chris, Ben was the one who was universally hated by city governments all over the state of Indiana. Chris was a positive person, and Ben, well he wasn't negative, he was just realistic, and that usually didn't go over well with city employees. The exception being Ron Swanson, who had offered to buy him a beer last night and invited him to spend a weekend camping. Ben still wasn't sure what to think about that.

He wasn't "Mean Ben" as Leslie had so passionately called him. He was trying to help, it was just that no one seemed to like an auditor's method of helping. Hell, he didn't like an auditor's version of helping. The only reason he'd taken the job was because he needed a way to prove he wasn't that stupid 18 year-old who had crashed a town into the ground with a glorified ice rink. So until he could gain the trust of the general public again, this was his version of helping. The punishment fit the crime.

"I think I will," Chris replied with an enthusiastic smile. "And you, Ben Wyatt, should relax a little. Enjoy the wonderful town of Pawnee, Indiana! Fall in love with the marvel that is small town America."

"Yeah, okay," Ben agreed, mostly just to shut Chris up. Ben had his own master plan. If he could just make Leslie see that he wasn't the villain in this story, that he wasn't cold, or calloused, or the son of Lord Voldemort, then maybe, maybe he could finally have a friend who wasn't constantly asking him to watch him swallow his multivitamin. Because even though she was exhausting, Leslie Knope was also passionate, and caring, and just a little bit crazy, and there was some persistent nagging feeling that kept Ben thinking he would enjoy being her friend.

"Leslie Knope! Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Chris announced as Leslie appeared in the doorway.

Well, thought Ben, here goes nothing.

Chapter Text

"What's up my lil' Annie the Boo Bear," Tom smiled and winked as he slid into Ann's office.

Ann didn't look up from her computer. "What do you want, Tom?" she asked already losing her patience. It was almost five, and she was tired and ready to go home.

"Can't a person just come say hello to Pawnee's most smokin' mom?" Tom cajoled as he perched himself on the edge of Ann's desk.

"Get out," Ann pointed to the door of her office. Nothing good ever came from Tom when he started a conversation with flattery, and Ann wasn't in the mood to waste her time listening to Tom wheedle his way around to a favor just for Ann to say no in the end.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, lil' momma," Tom put his hands up defensively. Truth be told, he was a little scare of Ann. He was a tiny guy, and Ann could totally beat him up. It had happened on a few occasions. "I've come with a business proposition."

Ann rolled her eyes and sighed. Tom's "business proposals" usually had one thing in common. She had hoped that maybe he would have backed off after she and Chris got married, but there was no such luck. "If it involves me having sex with you, I will take you down right here and now."

"As nice as that sounds," Tom smiled, "that is not part of my current proposal; however, I would be open to leaving that option on the table." Tom raised an eyebrow as if to offer it to her. "And maybe a few other things on the table too, if you know what I mean."

"Tom, I'm going to give you to the count of ten to tell me why you're here," Ann said in what Leslie referred to as her mom voice.

"Okay," Tom said as he sat down in the chair across from her desk. "Being a mom can be hard sometimes, and you work a lot, and so I thought I'd offer to the take the little one off your hands for an evening."

Ann laughed at the absurdity of his request. Tom Haverford was offering to watch her nine-month old son. The same man who killed all of Leslie's plants when she went to visit Ben in Washington D.C. by watering them with Vitamin Water. "What?" he had said in defense, "Everybody knows Vitamin Water is the new water." This was the same Tom who was so immature that he wore a tweed suit jacket and fedora around the office for a week and insisted on being called "Tom Swagaford."

"Were you dropped on your head as a child?" Ann asked bluntly.

Tom had accounted that Ann probably wouldn't part with her infant easily, because she found personal fulfillment in being a mom or whatever. "Look," he said in his best I-really-do-mean-well voice, "I just thought you'd like a night just you, Chris, and Connor. I'm sure the little Traegermister would like a night with his mom and dad to himself." Tom flashed Ann one of his best smiles. That's what confirmed Ann's suspicions. Tom was up to something.

"Why do you really want Chase for an evening?" Ann asked, her eyes narrowing in on Tom.

"I-I-I told you!" Tom stuttered, nervous that Ann was catching on. He was sure that if he told her the truth there was no way she'd let him watch Chase. "I just think Connor would really appreciate an evening without the little chicken nug in the house, and I'm sure that you and Chris would appreciate it too-"

"You want to use my son to try to get women," Ann cut him off, seeing right through his plan.

"What? Ann, that's crazy!" Tom attempted to defend himself, but Ann could see right through his nervous chuckling.

"You were. You were going to take my son and try to pick up chicks."

"Okay," Tom admitted. "Yes, I might have had plans to take Chase to a Mommy & Me yoga class to try to pick up some women, but I also just wanted to spend some time with the little guy. Please, Ann. I promise I'll take really good care of him, and it will only be for a few hours."

Ann eyed Tom with his desperate plea and caught herself contemplating it. She was fairly certain that handing her son over to Tom for a evening wasn't going to earn her any Mother of the Year awards, but it had been a long time since she and Chris had had an evening to themselves, and Tom was willing to babysit for free. "Fine!" Ann gave in. "You can watch him for the evening, but you're taking Connor too."

"What? Ann, no!" Tom whined. That was not part of his plan. "A man with one baby – super sexy, irresistible, bam! Instant bang. A man with two kids – you mine as well put me in pleaded khakis paired with a Hawaiian shirt. Plus, Connor's like 10. Ten-year- olds aren't cute, Ann, they're just annoying. Women don't want to see you caring for a ten-year-old, they want to see you holding an adorable baby."

"Okay," Ann stopped him before he could continue. "First off, Connor is only five, and he is adorable. Second, you will be holding a cute baby, you'll just also have a five-year-old by your side. It's both or nothing." Ann justified that if she at least sent Connor, he would make sure that Tom didn't leave Chase somewhere, or in the event he left both children somewhere, Connor at least knew how to work a cell phone.

Tom pouted in his chair. "But Ann-"

"No," Ann stopped him. "Both or nothing."

Tom thought it over. He'd been in a bit of a dating rut lately, which was why he was desperate enough to employ Ann's children. "Fine," Tom said at last, "but you have to let me dress them."

"Fine," Ann agreed, "but if Jean Ralphio is so much as within ten feet of my children, so help me Tom, I will break into your house and snap all your Ray Bans."

"What! Not my Ray-Ray-Banz!"

"Yes," Ann clarified. "And I'll let my children color on your Sperrys."

"But those are my booooaaattin' shoes!" Tom whined.

"And these are my kids," Ann lectured, "so you will be careful with them. You will watch them at all times. You will hold their hands. You will listen to them."

"I promise," Tom reassured her. "I've watched them around the building before, and I've babysat for Leslie and Ben plenty of times."

Ann sighed. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she needed a night with just her and Chris. A night where she didn't have to clean up snot or spit-up or fight Connor into a bath. "You can pick them up tomorrow at 5:30."

"Perfect, Ann! You will not regret it," Tom said as he stood up to leave before Ann could change her mind.

"Oh Tom," she called after him. Tom stopped and poked his head back in her office. "The boys' car seats are a real pain to take out and put back in, so you'll just have to take my minivan."

"Are you kidding me?" Tom asked.

Ann smiled and turned back to her computer.

Two kids and a minivan. If Tom could pull this off, he was definitely changing his name back to Tom Swagaford.

Chapter Text

"Okay people," Leslie said as she sat down at Ann's crowded kitchen table. Leslie's campaign for City Council was in full swing, and Ann had volunteered her house (unknowingly at the time) as Campaign Central. "We've got a lot we need to do before the benefit tomorrow."

The Parks Department gave her their attention as they packed themselves around the table.

"Alright," Ben agreed as squeezed into a chair between Jerry and Andy. Leslie smiled as he opened his binder and started looking over his notes. She still couldn't believe that he was dating her, that she was lucky enough to have him in her life.

"Is this the time when we can bring up new campaign ideas?" Tom interrupted.

"No," Leslie answered quickly, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Every one of their meetings started with Tom making "campaign suggestions."

"I've been thinking of some new slogans," he continued. "How about Dope for Knope 2012," Tom said as he moved his right hand through the air to try to help sell the idea.

"That kind of sounds like a drug endorsement," Ben said as he eyed Leslie across the table to see if she was getting the same vibe. She nodded yes in agreement.

"What about Knope is Dope 2012?" Tom suggested again.

"Still no," Leslie answered.

"What about Knope-alicious?"

"I'm not really sure if we want to take a note from Ke$ha on this one, Tom," Ben replied not even raising his eyes from his notepad as he scribbled something in the margin of the paper.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Tom yelled, obviously offended by Ben's lack of exposure to pop culture. "Fergalicious, Ben. Fergalicious. Ke$ha wasn't even born when Fergie dropped that track!"

There was an awkward silence as Tom finished his argument, and the eyes of the Parks' Department fell on him.

"Now that that's over," Leslie continued. "April and Andy, did you guys call and confirm the caters for seven tomorrow?"

"Oh, about that," Andy began as he stopped chewing on the pen that was hanging out of his mouth.

"We didn't do it," April finished. "You ordered mini everythings. I don't like mini food. It's too joyful."

Leslie stared at them, astonished at they were actually able to dress themselves in the morning.

"I took care of it," Ben told her. "We just need to make sure someone is waiting for them at the backdoor at 6:45 to let them in."

Leslie smiled up at her boyfriend from across the table. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend, the perfect campaign manager.

Ben smiled back at her with a wink that drove her crazy.

"Ann, do you have a finalized guest list?" Ben asked as he continued to scribble notes on his legal pad.

Leslie couldn't take it, he was so absolutely sexy in his pinstriped shirt and skinny tie, and since she couldn't jump across the table and kiss him like she wanted to, she did the next best thing and moved her foot until it found his under the table.

"I have it right here," Ann said as she passed Ben the paper. "The highlighted names are people who have already donated to the campaign. We've got them sitting at the reserved tables near the front of the venue."

"Perfect," Ben said as he looked over the names.

Leslie was amazed that he was able to play it so cool. She was usually able to keep a professional demeanor around Ben at work, but this wasn't the first time they had played footsy under the table, and every time before he would at least give her a knowing smile as he caught her eye. But today there was nothing, and there was something about the way that he was pouring himself over her campaign that made him even more irresistible. She moved her foot back and forth against his, and he didn't so much as even look up as he moved his foot away from her own.

"Um, Leslie," Jerry said. "I-"

"Not now, Jerry," Leslie cut him off, as her foot found Ben's again. "Donna did you get the decorations?"

"Yeeaahh," Donna drawled. "I got everything on your little list except for the confetti. I can't take that chance with my Benz."

"I've got some we can use," Tom answered. "I keep a fully stocked supply of shiny paper bitz, that's what I call confetti, for life's little moments. What color scheme are we talking?"

"Um, blue and red would be great," Ben replied, still without any acknowledgement of Leslie's foot that was now caressing his ankle.

"Leslie," Jerry said again. "I've-"

"How about black and silver," Tom suggested, cutting him off. "Or better yet, just black."

Ben looked to Leslie. "Do you have a preference?" he asked her. No smile, no wink, no nothing.

"Stick with red and blue, Tom," she said shortly, a little put out that Ben wasn't even giving her a sly smile as her toe rubbed circles around his ankle. She felt his foot pull away again, but Leslie was determined and she found him again.

"Chris have we confirmed the string quartet?" Ben asked.

"They are confirmed, and will be there are 5:30 to begin setting up," Chris answered enthusiastically.

"Perfect," Ben agreed, still looking stone-faced at his notes. Had Leslie done something to make him upset? She had to find out. She slipped her heel off under the table and began to snake her foot up the leg of Ben's pants.

"Leslie," Jerry tried once again.

"Jerry, can you hold on for two seconds?" Leslie asked growing impatient with him.

"Okay, so the doors are opening at 7:00," Leslie announced as her foot continued to work her way up her Ben's calf "at which point we'll have about an hour to-"

"Leslie," Jerry interrupted again.

"Dammit Jerry!" Leslie exclaimed losing her patience. "What is it? What is so important that you couldn't wait two seconds?"

"Well," Jerry stuttered, "Um, I just, it's just that…"

"What?" Leslie asked again.

"That is my leg!" Jerry said quickly.

Leslie pushed herself away from the table and stood up quickly. "Are you kidding me right now, Jerry?" she yelled.

"What is going on?" Ben asked as the rest of the table looked on in confusion.

Leslie jumped around the kitchen trying to shake the overwhelming feeling that she had just ruined the one normal relationship she had in her adult life by running her foot up Jerry Gergich's calf. "Oh my gosh, Ann, I need for you to disinfect my foot. Right now. Right now, Ann! Just like dump a bunch of hand sanitizer on it, or cut it off, I don't care, but do something. Actually, could you just pour bleach all over me? I don't want to take any chances. Ann!"

"Why am I pouring bleach over you?" Ann asked, still not sure what had happened to make her friend start doing what she could only assume was a rain dance in her kitchen.

Leslie stopped jumping and took a deep breath, she needed to think clearly for just half a second, but the only thing that clear thinking did was make her heart race at the thought of Ben dumping her in the middle of the campaign leaving her without a manager, and worse, without Ben. She had certainly been dumped over less before. Once a guy dumped her because she used the word remote instead of clicker. "I…um…hm," Leslie struggled to produce actual words. She couldn't say it in front of everyone. She needed to talk to Ben, to explain to him that this was a mistake, and really completely Jerry's fault, before she told the whole department and then had do damage control in front of all of them. "Ben can I talk to you in private?"

"Yeah…okay," Ben agreed as he slowly stood up and walked with Leslie into the other room.

"What's going on?" he asked as he shut the door to Ann's room behind him.

Leslie took a deep breath. "I cheated on you with Jerry!"

"What?" Ben asked having no idea what Leslie was trying to say.

"I cheated on you with Jerry," she continued. "I didn't mean to. It was a standard case of poor spatial awareness. Okay? You look so absolutely sexy with your little tie and your notepad, and you know what it does to me when you start throwing around campaign lingo, so I thought if I played footsy with you, then – yeah, but you-Jerry-who I thought was you, kept ignoring me, so I kept moving my foot up, and then Jerry-"

"Oh god," Ben said, but Leslie was too wrapped up in apologizing that she didn't even notice the smile that had spread across Ben's face as he thought of Leslie playing footsy with an unsuspecting Jerry.

"I'm so sorry," Leslie said. "And I completely understand if you have to break up with me, but just hear me out. In 1850, a woman who was unfaithful could be punished by being put into a small wooden box with five raccoons for ten days, so we always have that option. Or you could just find it in your heart to forgive me because I love you, and I like you, and I promise I will never cheat on you again, unless a situation arises where Joe Biden would agree to a quickie, in which case, you've already signed off on that waiver-"

"Hold on," Ben stopped her, and Leslie took a deep breath as she felt her heartbeat quicken. This was it, Ben was going to back out of the Joe Biden Exception Waiver, or worse he was breaking up with her all because she couldn't keep her feet to herself. "You love me, and you like me?" he smiled. "Don't you think that's kind of rushing things?"

Leslie exhaled as she felt the weight lift from her chest. "Yeah, well maybe a little bit," she smiled. "So you're not upset?"

"Of course not," Ben said as he kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms. "Although, I am a little concerned that you couldn't tell the different between my calves and Jerry's…maybe I should start working out."

Leslie laughed, "I love your calves," she told him as she pulled away just enough to look into his soft, brown eyes.

"I love you," Ben replied as he leaned down to kiss her. "And I like you too."

Chapter Text

"Last box," Ben said as he sat the cardboard box next the accumulating pile. "Which brings the final count to 15 boxes for me and 43 for you."

Leslie wrinkled her brow, "Are those counting the binders? I thought we weren't counting the binders."

"The binders bump you up to 52," Ben smiled. "And they are already in the office, and they will stay there."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Leslie waved him off. The binders stay in the office, everything has its place, our home will not become some scary, life-threatening trap that TLC could make a show about, Leslie relived the lecture Ben had given her probably close to ten times now. This will be the home of our future children, and I don't want to run the risk of losing them in a maze of file folders. Leslie smiled, remembering that conversation they had almost three months ago over Skype one evening while Ben was still in Washington D.C. running Congressman Murray's campaign.

Our future children? She had asked him. It wasn't the first time that Ben had mentioned having children with Leslie, but it was the first time he had done so without that look on his face like he had to apologize for telling her that he was thinking about their future. Now, he was talking so confidently it made Leslie wonder if maybe she was pregnant and somehow Ben had found out before she did.

Yeah, Ben said. You want kids, right?

Of course, Leslie agreed. She had always loved kids and wanted a family of her own, a family with Ben. But the way he was talking now, his sureness, it made Leslie's mind trip over itself. Of course, I kid your want – Of course, I want your kids. Our kids. With you and me. Like you're a mom and I'm a dad and we do adult stuff like carpool and buy socks and recycle because we have kids. Miniature people living in our house and eating our food…cause we have kids.

I freaked you out, Ben grimaced, and Leslie could tell he was mentally scolding himself. Sorry.

No, Leslie said stepping out of her panic. It's not that I'm freaking out, it's just…what's another way to say freaking out? This made Ben smile, and Leslie wished she could reach through the computer screen and hold his hands in hers or bury her head in his chest and let him hold her. As much as she loved this nation's capital, she really hated it for taking her boyfriend away. It's just that, the last time a guy talked about having kids with me, I was in Indianapolis and some guy told me that I looked like Reese Witherspoon and then asked if I would father his children. So, to have you, the man of my dreams, tell me that he wants to have kids with me, yeah, I'm freaking out a little.

So wait, Ben said as he furrowed his brow in concentration. This is a good freak out?

Exactly! Leslie exclaimed. I love you, and I like you, and one day, I want to have kids with you.

"Hey," Ben said pulling her out of her daze. "What are you thinking about?"

Leslie smiled and shook her head, bringing herself away from her thoughts and back to their future living room which was full of boxes. "Nothing," she said, still grinning. "Just how glad I am that you're here, and not in Florida being chased by alligators or old people on power scooters."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he smiled, placing a kiss on her cheek as he moved past her to start moving boxes to their intended locations.

Leslie began sorting through the boxes they placed in the living room. Kitchen, office, kitchen, bedroom, until she came to one marked Batman. Honestly, she thought, if he has one box completely dedicated to his Batman toys, then that's just as bad as nine boxes of binders. She opened it up, expecting to find carefully placed figurine boxes that could never be opened because that would depreciate the value or something like that. Ben had tried to explain it once or twice, but Leslie never really got it. Instead of figurines though, she was met with some sort of rubbery fabric folded neatly inside. She lifted the black mask out of the box and studied it.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Ben stuttered nervously when he walked in the room to see Leslie sitting over his box, the Batman mask in her hands.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" Leslie asked, only slightly nervous that this was some big secret of Ben's. Based on her past relationships, it wasn't completely irrational to think that she might be marrying some guy who spent his nights running around in a rubberized suit thinking that he was a fictional character, and okay, she had done that once in her Hermione Granger costume, but in her defense, she had been a little bit drunk and only made it to Ann's house.

"Well…you see…I" Ben laughed nervously and ran his hand through his hair. "I was going to move that up to the attic before you saw it."

"It's a batman costume," Leslie stated plainly. "You own a batman suit."

"Yeah, I know it's stupid," Ben said sheepishly as he walked over and sat down on a crate next to Leslie. "I bought it with Tom and Donna on this thing they do called "Treat Your Self." It was kind of a midlife crisis; we had just broken up, and I wasn't sure I wanted to stay in Pawnee."

"Treat Yo' Self," Leslie corrected him with a smile. "Put it on."

"Leslie, I don't…you don't have to act all excited about it. It's weird, I get that. I'll sell it, and it'll be out of our hair."

"Are you kidding me?" Leslie asked as she took the suit out of the box. "You're not selling this thing. Do you know how many fantasies I've had about that butt in tight rubber pants? Go put it on so that we can figure out how to take it off."

Ben gave her a questioning stare. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Isn't Ann supposed to be here to help unpack in like ten minutes?"

Leslie took out her phone and quickly texted Ann. Ben has a Batman suit-don't come over tonight. "Ann can wait," Leslie smiled. "I have a date with Batman."

Chapter Text

Ron Swanson didn't believe that real men fainted. Fainting was something reserved for dainty women…or Tom. Not Swanson men. That's what he repeated to himself over and over again as he waited for that high-pitched ringing in his ears to go away and for those annoying black splotches to get out of his line of sight.

"Ron?" Diane asked softly.

Ron was frozen in the chair behind his desk. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. The words, "I'm pregnant," were swimming around in his head, bouncing around so quickly that he wasn't really able to attach any meaning to them.

"Ron?" Diane said again, trying to pull him out of his trance. She had never seen Ron look so flush before. She had anticipated that the news would probably come as a shock to him, but now she was worried if he was breathing at all. Ron was a man who prized himself on not changing, and having a baby, well, that was a big change.

He moved his head at the sound of her voice but seemed to stare right through her, not noticing the slight look of panic on Diane's face at all. Diane is pregnant. With my child. He felt a wave of nausea tear through him again, and it took every ounce of his manhood to chock back his vomit.

Ron had never really thought of having kids. Not with either Tammy anyway. In his opinion, children were loud, unnecessarily messy, and incredibly needy, which had caused him to be reluctant in pursuing a relationship with Diane in the first place. But her daughters had been different, it took a while for Ron to adjust to them, but once he did, he found that not only could he tolerate them, but he actually kind of liked them.

"Look," Diane began, growing impatient and frustrated with Ron's lack of response. "I've done this before on my own, and I can do it again, I just thought you had a right to know."

Ron watched her stand to leave, and something about the combination of the disappointment that dripped from Diane's face and the way it made him feel like someone was taking a knife to his chest made him suddenly aware that he hadn't said anything for the past ten minutes while Diane had been carrying the weight of the news by herself. He wasn't sure about a lot of things in the current moment, like how he was ever going to baby proof his cabin, or how to change a diaper, or when children gained the dexterity to start learning woodworking skills, but he did know that this was something that he didn't want Diane to go through alone, and more than that, it was something he wanted to be a part of.

"I," Ron cleared his voice. "I can build a crib…for it."

Diane stopped moving toward the door and turned to Ron with a smile on her face.

"Infants need cribs, right?" Ron clarified.

"Yes," Diane nodded as she sat back down in the chair, "our child will need a crib."

Ron nodded once and clasped and unclasped his hands in his lap as he tried to take deep breaths. He could do this. He would do this. For Diane and the girls, and for their child. He could figure out how to do this.

"Do we get married?" Ron asked still sitting up straight and staring straight ahead at Diane. "I, um, I don't know how this works."

She stifled a small laugh. She had never seen Ron so flustered before, and the fact that he was trying, even when she knew that this was such a big change for him, it made her love him even more. "We could," Diane said, not wanting to shut Ron down when he was making such an effort, "but I think maybe it would be best not to rush into anything."

Ron nodded again, not showing the small wave of relief that had rushed over him. It wasn't as if Ron hadn't thought of marrying Diane before; the thought had crossed his mind several times, but after his first two marriages to Hitler and Satan respectively, he was a little leery about the sanctity of it all. He wanted his relationship with Diane to work, and if that meant not rushing into a marriage they weren't ready for, he was more than happy to wait.

"Ron," Diane said as she reached across the desk and covered his hand with her own. "I've seen you with my girls, and with Andy and April, with all your staff. You're going to be a great father."

"Do you really think so?" he asked, a hint of anxiety crossing over his face.

"I do," Diane smiled.

"I just, I don't know what I'm doing, so you'll have to tell me. I want to make sure I do this right."

"I can do that," she promised, and then added, "I just have one request."

"Absolutely," Ron agreed, ready to show his dedication. "Anything."

"If it's a girl," Diane replied. "I'd like to name her after my mother."

"Of course," Ron smiled, trying to remember Diane's mother's name. "I think Sarah is a great name."

"Well," Diane began, "that was her first name, but she went by her middle name, so I was thinking we could use that."

"What was her middle name?" Ron asked.

"Tamera," Diane responded. "But everybody called her-"

Ron was unconscious before Diane could ever say "Tammy."

Chapter Text

April was fairly certain she was going crazy. That's it, she thought, that's the only explanation. She walked past the entryway to the living room again and peeked in at Andy who was so enthralled in his video game that he hadn't noticed this was her tenth trip past the door. She had every intention of going into the living room, but at the last minute, she panicked and bolted for the security of their bedroom once more.

She let herself fall back on their bed as she still clutched the worn papers in her hands. Andy's bucket list. Almost everything had changed since the first time Andy showed her the list six years ago. Well, not everything, her favorite comedy was still Titanic, she still didn't understand the point of buying dishes when you could just take them from restaurants and parties, and bothering Jerry was still her second favorite pastime, behind making out with Andy. But things had changed. She had graduated from vet school and worked splitting her time between Pawnee Animal Control and the vet office on Main Street. Andy had finally passed his police exam and worked as security at City Hall. They owned the house they were living in. They both had health insurance. April had even grown to like Ann, although it usually took large amounts of alcohol to get her to admit it. She and Andy had grown up. They were adults now. Well, kind of adults. I mean, if all the dishes were dirty, they were still known to eat off of Frisbees every now and then.

The biggest change, though, happened just a few months ago. April had never really liked kids, mainly because she had never really liked people in general. She and Andy had talked about having kids of their own before, and it had always been her who was reluctant about the whole parent thing. Andy was ready to jump in headfirst when they first got married. It was April who suggested, in a slight panic, that they wait until they turned fifty and then adopt adult twins from Romania. Romania doesn't even allow international adoptions, April thought, criticizing her original plan. The fact that she knew Romania's adoption policies was further proof of just how much she had actually matured.

April was perfectly happy with her life, and then one day she woke up and wanted nothing more than to be a mom. Now, it seemed that April couldn't pass a baby without the deep urge to take it and run. In fact, lately it seemed that her desire to have a baby was stronger than her desire to breathe. And that scared her. It scared her a lot. April Ludgate was not mother material, or at least that's what she used to think. That mantra was slowly being replaced with the mentality of I think I could do this. Which is why she was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the guts to tell Andy that she had changed her mind.

She let her eyes wonder over the list again. Several of the items had been crossed off in a crazy attempt to be spontaneous a few years ago when that weird cult said the world was going to end. See the Grand Canyon. Become an action star. Hold a thousand dollars. All of those were marked out, but there were two in the middle of the page that April been focused on. Teach my son to throw the perfect spiral. Have a son.

April took a deep breath and determinedly sat up. She could feel the nerves spinning in her stomach, and her feet were restless as they dangled over the side of the mattress. "Stop being such a loser," she told herself, and before she could change her mind again, she stood up and headed out the door.

"Hey babe," Andy said as April marched into the living room and stopped in front of him. "Babe, you're right in front of the TV. I just got to level eight; the zombies are gonna eat me if I can't see."

"Um, can we talk for a minute?" April asked as she nervously shifted from one foot to the other.

"Sure," Andy replied, noticing the anxiety on April's face. He paused his game and put the controller on the coffee table in front of him. "Is this about your lipstick? Because I had to use it. I had the perfect song lyrics, and we have like no pencils in this house. I promise I'll replace it."

"No," April answered so concerned with whether she should sit or stand, just blurt it out or go through some long speech that she didn't really even comprehend that Andy had been using her makeup to work on his new songs. She finally settled on sitting and perched on the edge of the couch next to him.

"Oh…well," Andy shook his head as if to say that he had been making the whole thing up. "Wait, is that my bucket list?" Andy asked when he noticed the papers in April's hand.

April nodded and handed it to him.

"Wow," Andy laughed as he looked over the list. "I haven't seen this thing in forever."

"Yeah," April forced herself to laugh with him. "Um, I was thinking that maybe we could cross a few items off."

"Awesomesauce!" Andy agreed. "Which ones were you thinking? Oh, we could pretend to be mimes for a day!"

"Gross," April replied as she wrinkled her nose. "You know I don't like mimes. They're too bubbly."

"Okay," Andy agreed. "Which one were you thinking?"

"Um, I was thinking number 23," April answered as she anxiously tapped her foot on their hardwood floor.

Andy squinted at the page, "Babe, where are we gonna find a hippo?"

"Wait, what?" April asked as she pulled the paper away from him. "No, that's an eight, not a three. Here, this one," April pointed.

"Eat an entire meal with my feet," Andy read the one above April's pointing finger.

"No," April said again, growing frustrated. She really needed to take Andy to the eye doctor. "I want to have a baby!"

Andy's eyes got big as he giddily clapped his hands over his mouth.

"Stop," April begged him. "Okay, I know it's crazy, it just seems lately all I can think about is starting a family with you. And I know that I've always said I don't like kids, but I don't know, that was when I didn't really like people, and I kind of like some people now, I mean we're friends with Leslie and Ben and Chris and Ann and Ron and Diane, and I like their kids. And I think you'd be a really great dad, and I think I could learn to be a good mom-"

"Hey," Andy cut her off as he wrapped her in his engulfing arms. "You'll be a kickass mom, and our kid will just be the coolest."

"You really think so?" April asked.

"I'm positive. I'm more than positive; I'm super positive. You're gonna be great. We can teach him how to play guitar, and how to do crazy stunts. He'll be a stud."

"What if it's a girl?" April asked.

"Then she'll be as beautiful and smart as you. And, as my semester in Women's Studies taught me, we can still teach her to play guitar and do her own stunts because women have the same rights as men."

April smiled at the thought of their future child. A miniature version of herself and Andy; that's what she had been craving so badly. "Okay," she said, confident that marrying Andy would always be the best decision she could ever make. "Well, I'm in. Let's have a kid."

Andy pulled her into a kiss. "Hey, do you think we could knock out number 31 while we're trying?" Andy asked as he pulled away.

"What's number 31?" April asked as she took the papers and started searching.

"Do it in Ben and Leslie's house."

"Gross," April laughed. "But yeah, they're at the City Hall meeting tonight, and Leslie gave me their spare key when I house sat last month. But we'll have to be fast."

Andy smiled smugly, "Doing it fast is my middle name."

Chapter Text

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Ben could practically hear Leslie's brain counting for what had to be the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes.

"I don't think they're going anywhere," Ben whispered as he kissed her hair.

Leslie smiled as she looked down at the sleeping infant in her arms, "I can't help it."

"I know what you mean," Ben replied as he gently pulled her closer on the small hospital bed. "Count her toes again."

Leslie laughed quietly as she carefully untucked their daughter's feet from the tiny pink blanket.

"Those are definitely the cutest feet I have ever seen," Ben cooed as he carefully held them in his hand.

"What other feet have you been looking at, Wyatt?" Leslie teased.

Ben laughed quietly, causing it to sound more like a hum against Leslie's temple than his actual laugh. Even after a grueling nineteen-hour delivery his wife was still the same bubbly, smiling Leslie he had fallen in love with. He let his hand draw lazy circles on Leslie's shoulder, the other hand already occupied by his daughter's tiny fist.

He couldn't help but think of his first day in Pawnee. It was supposed to be just another town with just another city budget he needed to pick up the pieces of. Back then, the happy ending that he was currently living seemed so far out of reach that he wasn't even sure it existed at all. His life had been wrecked by the mistakes he'd made as an eighteen-year-old mayor, and his failure sent him into a constant need to try to fix other people's problems in a desperate attempt to somehow prove his competence. But Leslie had changed that. Not only had she made him fall madly in love with her, but she picked up the scattered pieces of his life. She showed him that he could be good at something, and that his mayor stunt didn't have to be the defining moment of his life. She showed him how to have fun and how to laugh. She had given Ben a reason to stay when until that point, Ben only looked for reasons to leave. And now she had given him a daughter too. It was almost too much for him to bear, and he could feel his heart swelling with thankfulness for everything she was in his life.

"Have I told you that you're amazing?" he asked as he pushed a stand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"I think you have," she smiled back. "A few times today actually, but I'll listen if you want to say it again."

"You're amazing. Honestly, Leslie. I love you and I like you."

"I love you and I like you too," she replied as she reached up to give him a kiss.

They turned their attention back to their daughter, both of them so enthralled by this tiny life that they weren't sure they'd ever be able to do anything except just watch her ever again.

"She has your eyes," Ben broke the silence as he put his index finger in his daughter's palm and watched in awe as she wrapped her tiny hand around it.

"She's four hours old, Ben," Leslie told him. "Her eyes have maybe been opened for fifteen minutes."

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "They are definitely yours."

"She has your nose," Leslie told him. "And we can only hope she inherits your butt."

Ben laughed, but abruptly stopped when he came to the realization that he had a daughter. A daughter who one day, other boys were going to try to date. "Oh my gosh," he said. "Boys…going to…dates…"

Leslie laughed as her husband continued to stammer on about the boys who would potentially date their daughter. "You're just now realizing this?" she asked him.

"Well, I knew beforehand, but it didn't click until now. I mean look at her! She's adorable! Boys are going to be all over her," he said in a fierce whisper.

"She'll be too interested in politics for boys," Leslie tried to reassure him.

But that just sent a new wave of panic through Ben. There was no doubt in Ben's mind that their daughter would be political powerhouse if that was the path she chose. This was Leslie Knope's daughter after all, and any daughter of Leslie Knope would be driven enough to try to run for mayor when she's only eighteen and doesn't know any better than to spend the town's budget opening an 24 hour waffle palace.

"Hey," Leslie said when she noticed his mind working overtime in the way it so often did when he was worried about something. "We have a lot of time before we have to start worrying about things like boys."

Ben nodded, not admitting to Leslie his latest worry.

"We have to name her," Leslie stated.

"I know," Ben agreed, thankful for the distraction. "What do you think? Still want to go with Hilanchelly?" He teased.

Leslie laughed as Ben hoped she would, "I thought we agreed to blame that on the hormones and never speak of it again."

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind," Ben smiled.

Leslie returned the gesture, and then stared intently at their daughter. He could see her working through the seemingly endless list of names she had prepared. "She's a Madeleine," she answered definitely after a few moments of silence.

Ben's smile grew wider than he thought was possible. Madeleine. It wasn't a name that they had discussed as of lately (I know who Madeleine Albright is, Ben had argued, we said no political names), but his wife was exactly right. "Madeleine Ann," he said testing the name to see how it sounded and falling in love with his daughter all over again.

"What?" Leslie asked as she jerked her head around to look at Ben. The infant gave a small jump in response, but Leslie quickly soothed her, readjusting her slightly in her arms.

"I was just – we don't have to use Ann as a middle name. I just thought you would like it. Plus, she's a big part of the reason we're here. I mean, she's kind of pushed us together since the beginning, and she's your best friend, and we're good friends, and-"

"Ben," Leslie said with tears in her eyes (the same tears she had when Ron brought her a stack of JJ's waffles about an hour ago), "it's perfect. Madeleine Ann Knope-Wyatt."

"Madeleine Ann Knope-Wyatt," he repeated as he leaned down to kiss his wife. In that moment, he was completely content with his wife tucked into his side and their daughter in her arms.

"Madeleine Ann," Leslie said again as she readjusted the tiny pink cap that hid her daughter's blonde peach fuzz, "You're not going to date until you're thirty."

Ben hummed in agreement. "And you're not allowed to run for mayor until you're forty-five."

Chapter Text

Andy knew he had about fifteen minutes before his wife would be home from work. He also knew that he had less than twenty-four hours to buy her a gift for their ninth anniversary. It wasn't as if he had put it off either - he learned that the hard way a few years ago. He had done his best to try to find a present for his wife, but nothing seemed good enough. If he could somehow find out what April had gotten him, he would have some idea of the gift he would have to beat. But how in the world would he figure that out? That's when it hit him. Sometimes the world needed a hero, and other times it needed an FBI agent, the best damn agent the FBI had ever seen until he was framed for a crime he didn't commit. This was definitely a situation that called for the latter.

"Dad. Dad!"

"Buddy, how many times do we have to go over this?" Andy asked. "Right now, I'm not dad. I'm your partner, Burt Macklin. And you're…"

"Max," his three-year old answered proudly as he stared up at his dad with April's wide, brown eyes.

"No," Andy said as he bent down to straighten his son's FBI jacket that was identical to his own. "You're the second greatest FBI agent in the world, Kip Hacklin."

"Right!" Max answered enthusiastically. "We're looking for clues!"

"Exactly," Andy smiled as he moved his son's aviators down from the top of his head. "And the number one rule of looking for clues is…"

"We don't tell mom!"

"Ha ha!" Andy beamed proudly. "That's my boy." Max jumped up to give his father a high five and energetically danced around the hallway outside of Andy and April's room. "Now remember," Andy said, his voice growing serious. "We can't be sure what's on the other side of this door. We're looking for anything that might be a present for me. It could get pretty dangerous. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Should I get our lightsabers?" Max asked.

"Son," Andy said. "Secret agents don't carry lightsabers."

"But you said it could be dangerous," Max answered. "And lightsabers are the greatest weapon ever."

Andy thought about this for a minute. "You're right," he nodded. "Get the lightsabers, but I call red this time!"

"You always get red!" Max yelled as he ran to his room and quickly returned with the two lightsabers he and his father often battled with.

"Okay," Andy said as he turned his on and waited for Max to do the same. "Stand back, agent."

Max obediently took a few jumps back and watched in awe as his dad kicked down the door to his own bedroom.

"Whoa!" Max screamed as the door flew open. "I want to do that!"

"Maybe when you're older, kid," Andy smiled as he tussled his son's hair. "Now, let's go." Andy dropped to the floor and did a somersault into the open doorway. He jumped up, holding the weapon above his head as he inspected the room.

His son followed suit, rolling into the room, and standing up behind his father before climbing onto his back for a piggyback ride.

"Let's do this," Andy said as he began to move toward his wife's dressers. "Remember," he said, "it could be anything. A new guitar, a 3D television, a new car."

"A pirate ship?" Max asked.

"Oh, that would be so cool!" Andy answered as he began haphazardly pulling his wife's clothes out of the drawers and throwing them onto the bed as his son laughed and clung to his neck. He emptied April's large dresser in less than two minutes and quickly moved onto the small one that they shared. Clothes continued to fly across the room as he emptied the first drawer until his hands hit something hard.

"What's that?" Max asked.

Andy held the object in his hands and moved backwards to sit down on the bed.

"What is it, dad?" Max asked again as he bounced up and down on the soft mattress.

Andy could feel his heart beating giddily in his chest. This was way better than a pirate ship or any other gift he could have imagined finding. "It's a pregnancy test," he answered his son, still in shock at what he had found.

"What?" Max asked.

"It's something mommies pee on and then it tells them if they're going to have a baby."

"Cool!" Max yelled. "Can I pee on it?"

"Macklin," a familiar voice said from the doorway of the room Andy and Max had destroyed in a matter of minutes.

Andy quickly stood up, moving the pregnancy test behind his back to hide it from his wife.

"Mom!" Max squealed as he jumped off the bed and ran to April. He leaped into his mom's arms as she scoped him up in a hug. "Mom," Max began. "Dad was looking for clues for the gift you got him for the anniversary, and I got to help him, and he found your pee stick."

"He did?" April asked slowly as she surveyed the mess her boys had made. "I think I need to talk to Mr. Macklin alone for a minute. Why don't you go play with Champion in the living room, and we'll be right there."

"Okay," Max agreed as he wiggled out of April's arms and threw his sunglasses across the room before running off to find his dog. April watched as her son galloped out of the room and then turned her attention back to her husband who was standing on the opposite side of the bed wearing his navy FBI windbreaker and his aviator sunglasses that made him look so incredibly hot.

"So, Macklin," she said as she took a step toward him. "You thought you and your partner could outsmart me. Like I'd be stupid enough to hide the nuclear launch codes in my own house."

"Well, Ms. Snakehole," Andy replied as he took his sunglasses off. "Apparently, we're not as dumb as you think." He produced the pregnancy test from behind his back, and breaking his FBI agent character asked his wife, "Are you pregnant, babe? Because if you are that would just be awesomesauce." He quickly moved over to April, lifting her up as he spun her in a circle.

"We've talked about this," she said as she swatted at his arm. "If I was pregnant you shouldn't lift me up!"

"Wait," Andy said as he pulled away from her. "So you're not pregnant?"

"No," April answered. "That was the pregnancy test I took when I found out we were pregnant with Max. It seemed wrong to throw it away, so I just kept it," she shrugged.

"Babe," Andy said, the disappointment creeping onto his face. "So we're not going to have another kid?"

April shook her head no. "Not right now," she answered. "Is that something that you want?"

"More than anything. Like even more than I want Mouse Rat to be the most popular band in the world." In fact, it had been something Andy had wanted for a while. He loved being a dad, and he loved watching April be a mom. Getting to do that again would be like the coolest thing ever.

April laughed, "Yeah," she agreed. "I guess it would be cool to have another kid."

"It would be the best!" Andy replied as he pulled his wife closer to him. "Maybe we could talk about it tomorrow night, Ms. Snakehole. While Leslie and Ben are watching Max."

"We could never have a kid together, Macklin," April said as she gave her husband a teasing look. "The world's greatest FBI agent and the world's greatest villain. Who knows what a child like that could be capable of. It'd be too dangerous."

"Or maybe," Andy said as he lowered his lips to hers. "It's just what the world needs."

Andy kissed his wife long and deep in the kind of way that even after all the years they'd spent together made both of them never want to come up for air. When she finally pulled away, Andy placed one more kiss on her forehead. "Max and I are making dinner tonight," he told her. "Grilled cheese sandwiches all around."

April smiled at her husband. She couldn't wait until tomorrow night when she would tell him that the pregnancy test was in fact one that she had taken three days ago, and that she had just come back from a doctor's appointment that had confirmed what the test predicted. It's about time someone put Macklin in his place, she smiled. Janet Snakehole strikes again.

Chapter Text

Ann took a deep breath and tried to collect herself before she went inside, but it was no use. She felt her heart race with a combination of excitement and terror as she wiped her palms on her jeans before pushing open her heavy front door.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Ann's two-year old yelled as he ran at her full speed and buried himself into her legs. He looked up at her with his dark, round eyes and lifted his arms to her as he energetically jumped in place, his universal sign that he wanted to be picked up.

"My Chase monster," Ann smiled as she carefully bent down to respond to his request.

"Mom, mom," he stuttered excitedly as he continued to bounce in her arms. "Dad's fat!"

"What?" Ann asked as she adjusted her wiggly boy off her slightly swollen stomach and over to her side. She was sure that she had misheard her toddler as fat was never a word she would have used to describe Chris.

"Daddy's got a big tummy!" he said again.

Ann still didn't understand what Chase was trying to communicate. "Where is daddy?" She asked as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag in the entryway. Before Chase could answer, she heard Connor's sweet laugh coming from the kitchen and made her way down the hall with Chase still in her arms.

Ann stepped into the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Chris chopping vegetables with his back turned to her and her older son sitting at the island watching him. "Hey," she smiled as she kissed Connor's hair.

"Ann Traeger," Chris boomed as he turned from his post chopping.

That's when Ann saw it. Everything about Chris was normal except for his torso, which was so swollen it looked like he was in his ninth month of pregnancy – a drastic difference from the flat abs she found when she woke up this morning. More than that, she found her husband was also sporting boobs underneath his tightly stretched spandex shirt.

"What the hell?" she said before she could even realize that her two sons were still in the room.

"What the hewl," Chase mimicked, but Ann was still too distracted to deal with her son's new vocabulary. She could fix that later. Her husband having boobs – that needed to be fixed now.

"Mom!" Connor said as he stood up on his chair. "Dad's going to have a baby just like you!"

"Do you like it?" Chris asked as he waddled over to her. "It's called the Pregnancy Simulator 266. It can replicate up to twenty symptoms and effects of pregnancy. Speaking of which, I have to urinate again. This little guy is sitting right on my bladder!"

Ann watched in a daze as her husband gave her a kiss on the cheek and wobbled out of the kitchen with his hands supporting his lower back. This is definitely a dream, she thought. This whole day has just been one long dream.

"Dad's gonna have a baby!" Chase exclaimed.

"No," Ann quickly responded. "Daddies don't have babies."

"But his belly is big," her six-year old reasoned. "Just like when Chase was in your belly."

"It's different," Ann tried to explain. "There isn't a real baby in…dad's tummy." She mentally added that to the list of things she never expected to say. Take the trashcan off your head. Don't shove Legos up your brother's nose. There isn't a baby in daddy's tummy.

"Are your breasts sore?" Chris asked as he made his way back into the kitchen.

"What?" Ann repeated.

"Your breasts," he replied as he grabbed his fake ones and tried to adjust them. "Are they always this sore?"

"Okay," Ann said desperately trying to figure out how to take control of this situation. "Mommy needs to talk to daddy alone, why don't you guys go play in the backyard for a little bit?"

"Alright," Connor agreed as he jumped down from the stool and grabbed Chase's hand to lead his brother outside. "Maybe daddy will have a boy and mom will have a girl," Ann heard Connor wonder as he led his brother out the back door.

"Oh my gosh, Chris, what are you doing?"

"Ann Traeger," he began. "You know that I love you more than anything in the whole world, and I respect you, but I wanted to increase my sense of involvement and empathy in this pregnancy. So, I thought what better way to do that than to become pregnant!"

"You were so great when I was pregnant with the boys," Ann said hoping to talk him down from this insane decision. "I don't need for you to be better."

"Our ability to continue learning and growing is what fundamentally sets us apart from other species. If we're not willing to better ourselves, then what kind of a world are we living in?"

Ann stared at him inconceivably. The kind where men don't wear pregnancy simulators, she wanted to answer. "Okay," she said shaking her head. "Please take that thing off so I can talk to you."

"I can't do that," Chris explained. "I've made a commitment to myself and to females everywhere to embrace the excruciating and jovial changes of pregnancy by wearing the PS266 for a month."

"Out in public?" Ann yelled.

"Absolutely," Chris answered.

An even more terrifying image appeared in Ann's mind – Chris arriving at City Hall with his new figure.

"Chris, please take the stomach off," Ann begged. "Because I don't think I can deal with that level of crazy when I am going to be dealing with the level of crazy of preparing for twins, and the ever constant craziness that comes with having two boys, two boys who are probably out in the backyard beating each other with sticks right now, and I just can't deal with Tom and his stupid girl voice singing 'Here come the preggar Traegers!' or whatever it is that Tom would think of to say-"

"Did you say twins?" Chris interrupted, giving Ann a few seconds to take a deep breath and attempt to return her heart rate to normal.

Ann nodded slowly and pulled the small photograph from her pocket. "They did an ultrasound at the appointment today, just to check on things," she handed the ultrasound to her husband who stared at it in shock. "There's one baby," Ann said pointing to the picture. "And there is the other one."

"Twins," Chris said still trying to process the news.

Ann could see the signs of panic starting to creep in the corners of her husband's face, so she took a deep breath, ready to replay the same speech she had told herself earlier. "I know it's not what we were expecting, and two babies is going to be a lot of work, but I think that we can do it, and I think it's a good thing. I mean, we might not sleep for the next three years of our life, but I-"

"Ann Traeger," Chris interrupted as he put his hands on her shoulders and smiled that way that only Chris could. "This is literally the best news you could have told me."

"Really?" Ann asked.

"Really," Chris repeated as he awkwardly navigated his fake stomach to pull Ann into his lips. For the first time that day, Ann truly believed that maybe she and Chris could handle this. They could figure out how to keep up with four children who were under the age of six. They were the Traegers after all. Ann felt a thud from Chris's stomach and pulled away promptly.

"Did that thing just kick me?"

Chris nodded excitedly, "It's just one of the many joys of pregnancy that the PS266 lets me experience."

Ann sighed but couldn't help but smile at her crazy husband. It's going to be a long month.

Chapter Text

"And that is why the government is a life-sucking beast that needs to be stopped," Ron lectured as he gently bounced the sleeping infant in his arms. Even at only three-weeks old, he couldn't get over how much Madeline looked like her mother.

He heard a small snore come from the other sleeping blonde in the room and turned from the portraits on the wall to find Leslie, still face down and sleeping on her desk. As happy as he was to see her finally resting, Ron wasn't thrilled that Leslie was choosing to do it at City Hall instead of at her house. "Your mom is an amazing woman," Ron admitted to Madeline. "But she has some problems with moderation. I vote you tell her. She'll take it better coming from you."

Madeline gave a tiny yawn in response, and Leslie began to stir behind her desk. He watched as the disgruntled councilwoman woke up from her nap. Leslie lifted her head a few inches, still groggy with sleep, but seeing Ron standing in her office while holding her daughter caused her to sit up quickly. Ron couldn't help but chuckled at the paper clip indented in Leslie's forehead and the Post-It stuck in her unruly hair.

"Morning, sunshine," he teased as Leslie looked around the office trying to regain her bearings.

"Ron," Leslie stuttered. "I was just…uh…I was trying this new thing where you close your eyes and visualize your work before you actually do your work. It's supposed to increase productivity and –"

"You were sleeping, woman," Ron interrupted, knowing that Leslie had brought her daughter to work this morning hoping to put in a full day and obviously let her exhaustion get the better of her somewhere between checking her morning emails and starting to prepare for her bill proposal.

"No," Leslie retaliated as she peeled the paper clip off her forehead. "I was visualizing."

"Does that usually involve snoring?" Ron asked.

Leslie bit her lower and seeing that there was no way out of it, finally admitted, "Okay, fine. I feel asleep for a minute. Who sent you to check on me? Ben or Ann?"

"Ben," Ron admitted as he sat down in the chair across from Leslie's desk. "He called me this morning. Something about you sleeping for ten hours last night."

"Lots of people sleep for ten hours," Leslie argued before Ron could finish.

"When in your life have you ever slept more than four hours?" Ron asked. "And Ben also said something about finding a binder wrapped in a blanket and strapped into Madeline's car seat this morning."

Leslie knitted her eyebrows together and drummed her finger against her desk. "I read somewhere that tucking in your work makes it feel more personal and gives you a better connection to it," Leslie shrugged in an attempt to play it cool, but instead just ended up sending Ron clear signals that she was lying.

Ron could see this wasn't going to be easy. "Monday you wore two different shoes to work. Last week, you had an entire phone conversation using the stapler as your phone, and yesterday, you nearly burnt down City Hall when you tried to microwave the environmental impact reports instead of your lunch."

"So, Ben sent you down here to give me the 'You're Working Too Hard' speech?" Leslie asked taking a clue from Ron's evidence to guess that some sort of lecture was coming.

"No," Ron replied. "He sent me down to make sure you hadn't swaddled any other inanimate objects. I came down to give you the 'You're Working Too Hard' speech."

Leslie rolled her eyes as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, go ahead. Let's hear it."

Ron took a deep breath and mentally prayed that Leslie wouldn't hit him since he was holding her daughter. "You're just, you're not very good at balancing."

"Are you kidding me?" Leslie asked taking offense to Ron's accusation. "I rock at balancing. If balancing were an Olympic sport, I would be a five-time gold medalist. If balancing were a reality TV show, I would be the Ryan Seacrest of balancing. If-"

"Leslie," Ron scolded, giving her his best Ron Swanson glare.

"Ugh!" Leslie groaned, frustrated with her friend for making her admit her weaknesses. "Fine. I suck at balancing, but we are doing great!" Leslie continued. "Madeline's healthy and happy. Ben is an amazing husband and dad. We're making it work."

"But it's not working," Ron said calmly. "You're stretching yourself too thin." He knew it would be hard for Leslie to hear, but he cared about her. Leslie Knope was his friend, and he was worried about her. "You're clearly exhausted. You should be at home with your newborn. Not at work."

"I love my daughter more than anything," Leslie admitted. "But I also love my job. You can't just expect me to quit because I have a kid now."

"I don't expect you to quit," Ron responded. "I don't want you to, either. You're not even working for the Parks Department anymore, and you're still managing to do my work for me."

"Well, then what are you saying?" Leslie asked.

Ron shifted Madeline in his arms and watched as she gave a small yawn in protest. Leslie might be overly enthusiastic and generally cheerful, traits that Ron wasn't exactly thrilled about, but he also knew that no one could possibly care about the little girl in his arms more than Leslie and Ben did.

"Do you remember what I told you when you were running for City Council and still trying to act as the Deputy Director for Parks and Rec?"

"Yeah," Leslie shrugged. "You told me not to half ass two things."

"Exactly," Ron nodded. "I know I'm no expert on parenting, but if there's one thing I've picked up on since Elizabeth was born, it's that this," Ron nodded to Madeline, "is something you want to whole ass."

Leslie sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, Ron had a point. Leslie loved to think that she could do it all, and a part of her truly believed that she could, but maybe she couldn't continue to work seventy-hour weeks now that she and Ben finally had the family they wanted. "So what do I do?" Leslie asked.

"You take a real maternity leave," Ron answered.

"I took a real maternity leave," Leslie argued.

"You took a week and a half off," Ron retaliated. "You need a real break from this job. Pawnee needs to learn to survive without Leslie Knope, and your job will be here when you come back in three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Leslie raised her voice causing Madeline to stir in Ron's arms.

Ron had anticipated that Leslie probably wouldn't be thrilled with his proposal. She loved her job in a way that Ron didn't understand, and if he was being honest, wasn't interested in understanding. "Do you want me to make it longer?" Ron asked, his tone of voice the same as when he had to reprimand his daughters.

"No," Leslie sighed.

"And I've already talked to Ben," Ron continued. "He knows you're not to do any work. If it becomes a problem, we can start taking away waffle privileges."

"You wouldn't!"

Ron never broke her eye contact, as if to say "try me," and Leslie knew that he meant business. Although, she was fairly certain that if she slept JJ a twenty, he'd be willing to break any promise he had made to Ben or Ron. "This is for your own good, Knope. Take three weeks. Rest. Spend time with your beautiful and amazing daughter. Then come back here ready to kick some ass. You're Leslie Freakin' Knope. You just need some time to adjust."

Leslie smiled. There weren't many people in Ron's life that he would go out on a limb for, and Leslie was grateful that she was one of them. "I guess I'll pack up Madeline and head home."

Ron smiled, not quite ready to part with the sleeping child in his arms just yet. "Why don't you lie back down and sleep a little longer, perhaps on the couch this time? I can watch Madeline."

Leslie could see the look in Ron's eye and knew full well that he was reminiscing about those first few weeks Elizabeth was home from the hospital. "Thanks, Ron," she smiled as she gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead and headed over to the couch. "You're a good friend."

"Don't get all mushy, woman," Ron grunted, having done his fair share of being "emotional" for the day. "I'm just doing this as a way to avoid some work. We'll be in my office when you wake up."

Ron watched as his friend laid down on the couch, and then he quietly inched out of the room with Madeline still in his arms. "You've got a great mom," he said to the infant. "One of the best. But don't tell her I said so. I can't stand it when she gets a big head."

Chapter Text

Leslie smiled contentedly as she watched the light reflect off the diamond and bounce around the room in random rays. She buried her head deeper into Ben's bare chest and hugged him closer. Ben Wyatt, the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. "Just a minute," she said as she wrapped the sheet around her and slipped out of bed before Ben could protest.

"Wait!" He said as he watched her pull on his dress shirt that been discarded around the time they fumbled into her room. Leslie disappeared into the hallway, and consequently, into several piles that had accumulated in her house since Ben had left for Washington D.C. "What are you doing? Come back!"

"You can handle thirty seconds without me," Leslie replied as she reentered the room and jumped up the bed.

Ben smiled as he watched her tuck her legs under her and run a hand through her wild blonde curls. "No I can't. That's why I asked you to marry me."

Leslie looked down at the new ring again and could hardly believe that an hour ago, he was on one knee asking her to be his wife. "Hey, how did you know where to find me anyway?"

Seeing that his fiancé was no longer interested in snuggling he sat up and scooted closer to her on the bed. "Ann," he replied as he played with a few stray stands of hair that curled down her back. "I tried the office, but you weren't there. Ann said you had an appointment with Martha and gave me the address for the house."

"But the ring," Leslie said still trying to make sense of it all.

"I've had that ring since the day of your trial."

"You're kidding," Leslie replied, not believing that Ben had had the ring for over a year.

"I promise," he answered as he held up his hand in honor. "I couldn't just sit outside that room and do nothing while you were in there being questioned. I started walking, just to clear my head and get a fresh perspective, and before I knew it, I was standing inside that little jewelry place off of Main Street picking out an engagement ring for you. I saw that ring," he said nodding toward Leslie's hand, "and I knew two things – that I had to resign and that I had to spend the rest of my life with you."

For the second time that day Leslie was at a loss words, so she pulled Ben into her and caught his lips with her own. She danced across his tongue, drinking him in and basking in the thought of getting to do this for the rest of her life.

"I love you, and I like you," she smiled, giving him one final kiss.

Ben smiled back, his thumb still stroking that place behind her ear. "I love you, and I like you," he replied, finally dropping his hand and pulling her toward him on the bed so she was practically sitting on his lap. "What's that?" he asked.

"Our wedding binder," Leslie answered as she began flipping through the 5-inch thick document.

"But we just got engaged."

"Yeah," Leslie answered, "And we're already an hour behind schedule. Now, what kind of wedding were you thinking? I was thinking we could invite the whole town and all the employees of City Hall could be our wedding party, except for Jam. We can give him some meaningless job like ushering or something. And we'll have a hundred white doves that we'll release when we say our vows, and Joe will be there-"

"Wait, slow down," Ben said as he shook his head. "First off, who is Joe?"

Leslie's jaw actually dropped slightly as she stared at her husband in disbelief. "Joe Biden," she answered. "The vice president of this great nation, and the owner of the second finest butt in the world."

"Am I the first?" he asked, not entirely sure what he wanted her answer to be.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Duh," she replied. "Let's talk budget. What are you thinking? Wait, let's each say it on three. One, two, three, fifty thousand."

"Five thousand," Ben said at the same time. "Did you say fifty thousand?" he asked after he comprehended what had actually come out of her mouth. "Do you have fifty thousand dollars?"

"No," Leslie answered matter-o-factly. "But Oprah does."

"Of course," Ben replied, not really wanting to know what her plan further entailed.

Leslie continued to flip through the binder; her brain continuing to make up for the hour of mind-numbing blissful excitement the engagement caused.

Ben watched as his fiancé animatedly pointed out different options for venues and themes, but the only thing that really mattered to him was that Leslie Knope had agreed to marry him. "So is there a timeline in that thing?"

Leslie tried to maintain her demeanor as her bliss was being replaced by the reality that was quickly setting in. "Oh, um," she stalled as she looked in the binder for something she knew wasn't there. "I mean, we could wait a while." She tried to remain as nonchalant as possible, which was a challenging feat for a woman who was not nonchalant about anything. "Maybe just wait until after Florida." It was barely a whisper, and Leslie kept her eyes glued to the binder in front of her because she couldn't stand to see what Ben's face was giving away.

Ben remained oblivious to Leslie's worries. "When are we going to Florida?"

"We're not," she replied looking up from the page of seating charts, "but you are. But it will be okay," she babbled, trying to make herself believe that spending another six months away from Ben Wyatt would, in fact, be okay. "I mean, Florida is no Washington D.C., but I'm sure they still have some great historic buildings that we can see when I visit, and you'll get really tan, but hopefully not too tan. I like you a little bit pasty. And we can see the ocean, or maybe go to Disney World, and we can-"

"Les." Ben put a hand over her own and let his finger toy with the new ring on her hand. "I'm not going to Florida."

Leslie didn't understand. Ben was being offered a major campaign in a major state. He couldn't just walk away from that. Not for her. "You have to go," she said, the words tearing at her heart knowing that she was telling him to leave her. "This is a gubernatorial race in a major state! You can't just walk away from that for me."

She really doesn't know how amazing she is, Ben thought as he listened to her list the reasons he had to go. "I'm not going to Florida," he said again. "I'm staying in Pawnee with you."

"Ben," she said shaking her head, "You can't – You can't just not go. You did amazing in D.C., and people have finally seen that. So you can't just not go because of me. Because what if one day you realize that I wasn't worth you giving it all up for or that I'm not enough and then you spend the rest of your life resenting me? This is Pawnee, Indiana, not some big city or state with major campaigns and famous politicians. There's only ever been one President elected from Indiana for crying out loud! Well, two if you count Lincoln, but I don't know where you stand on that. So you have to go to Florida because what is there in Pawnee, Indiana that could compete with that?"

"You," he answered without thinking. "You compete with that. Yeah, Washington D.C. was good, but it wasn't amazing because Leslie Knope wasn't there for me to share it with. Nothing anywhere else in the world could compete with Pawnee, Indiana because you aren't there and those places aren't home. I'm not giving up something great for something mediocre. I'm giving up something mediocre so that I can spend my life with someone great."

Before Leslie could tell herself to stop and pull it together tears were welling in her eyes. "You called Pawnee home."

"I also called you amazing," Ben said, a little confused about her takeaway from their conversation. "But yeah, of course Pawnee's home. The woman I love and am going to marry lives here."

"So you're not going to Florida?"

Ben shook his head and leaned in closer to his fiancé. "I'm not going to Florida."

"And you're okay with that?" Leslie asked, needing to hear him say it one more time.

"With not leaving so I can spend the rest of my life with the most amazing woman in the world in the best town in America? Yeah, I'm perfectly okay with that."

Chapter Text

Andy took a step back to survey the living room and smiled contentedly at his work. "Ha!" he gave a short burst of victory as he pumped his fist in the air.

"What are you doing?" April yawned from behind him.

Andy turned around quickly to see his wife waiting at the entryway of the living room wearing one of his old MouseRat t-shirts that, even with her swollen stomach, still landed at her knees. "Babe, you should be in bed."

"You should be in bed," April repeated as she ran her hands over her stomach. "It's after three. Why are you still awake?"

"I just woke up, and I felt all sweaty and my heart was beating really fast, and my mouth felt like a desert, and I just kept thinking about all the stuff we still have to do before our little dude gets here. So, I'm baby proofing," Andy smiled happily as he stepped out of her way and revealed his handy work.

This wasn't the first night in the past week that April had woken up to find Andy awake and doing odd jobs around the house to get ready for the birth of their son. "You wrapped our living room in bubble wrap," April stated blankly as she moved her hands to her left side where she was fairly certain her unborn child had lodged his foot permanently in her ribcage.

"Well, I figured that I fall down and get hurt so much, our kid probably will too because of genetics of whatever, and we can't just get rid of all our stuff, so wrapping it all in bubble wrap seemed like the best option. Plus," Andy added as he ran giddily over to the coffee table and started endlessly popping bubbles, "we will never be bored again!"

"Okay, stop," April pleaded as she slowly waddled over to him.

"Do you feel okay?" Andy asked skeptically as he moved over to her. He let his hands stretch over her own and smiled as they seemed to dwarf her eight-month pregnant stomach.

"I'm fine," April lied, too afraid at the moment to tell him the real reason she had sat up straight in bed at 3:03 in the morning. "Are you coming back to bed?"

"Babe," Andy said as he wrapped his wife in his hug. "I can't go back to sleep. Not now. We've got too much to do. I mean, I still haven't put together the baby swing, or the bouncy seat, or the changing table, and I still haven't learned how to do a back flip, because what if our kid wants be a gymnast? We don't even have a name picked out yet!" Andy continued nervously. "And I know the baby's not supposed to be here for another month, but in that book I read, it said sometimes babies can come early, and even if the baby isn't due for another month, 54 days isn't a lot of time to prepare for a baby."

April shook her head but didn't correct her husband on how many days were in a month, or mention that the book he had read was a picture book he had borrowed from Madeline called "My Mommy's Having a Baby." She was just getting ready to tell him that he needed to sleep, that all of this stuff could wait until morning when she felt another wave of discomfort rip through her, similar to the one that had caused her to wake up forty-five minutes ago.

"Ahh!" she groaned as she grabbed Andy's arm to give her leverage as she sat down on the couch.

"Whoa, babe," Andy panicked. "What was that?"

"I'm pretty sure that was a contraction," April breathed, rubbing large circles over her stomach. "They haven't been that bad."

"They?" Andy asked as he helped her sit down on the couch, his heart ready to jump out of his chest and his mind getting all dizzy at the thought of his wife in labor when he still had so much to do before his son got here.

"I've only had a few. It doesn't mean anything," April interrupted, trying to keep him calm and talk herself out of what she already suspected. "Lots of women have fake contractions in their third trimester, plus my water-" April stopped in the middle of her sentence. As if on clue, her water broke.

"Oh my gosh, babe. Are you okay? Did you just pee?" Andy asked, as he ran his hand nervously through his hair.

"No, my water broke. Did you read any of the books I bought you?" April asked as she leaned against the armrest of the couch so she could stand back up.

"None of your books had pictures like Madeline's!" Andy answered back, his face growing paler by the second as he ran to April's side to help her move. "Are you okay? How far apart are your contractions? Are you breathing? Should we go to the hospital? Should I call Leslie? How many fingers am I holding up?" He asked all the questions he could think to ask in one breath.

"I'm in labor; I'm not blind," April answered while pushing the four fingers he was holding up in front of her face away.

"Okay, okay," Andy said as he took his shirt off because he was starting to get sweaty again. "Are you timing them? Aren't you supposed to time them?"

"I'm pretty sure once your water breaks we're just supposed to go to the hospital."

"Are you sure you can't just cross your legs or something and keep him in there a little longer while I put the stroller together?" Andy asked, his voice growing shaky and his chest getting tighter.

"I don't think that's going to work," April gasped, another pain shooting through her lower abdomen.

Andy immediately ran to her side. "Okay," Andy said, trying to remain calm. "I'm going to get your bag and I'm going to call the doctor, and then, just being honest, I'm probably going to throw up in the sink, but then I'll be ready to go."

April grabbed her husband's hand to prevent him from running off through the house in a panic. She knew he was freaking out, and she had do something to calm him down. "Andy," she said calmly as she placed his hands on her stomach. "Do you love me?"

"What?" Andy asked, confused as to his wife's seemingly change in subject.

"Do you love me," April repeated.

"Of course, baby" Andy answered. "You're the best. I love you so much."

April smiled and nodded. "Do you love our son?"

Andy rubbed small circles on her stomach with his thumb and felt his son give a tiny kick. "More than I love Dave Matthew's Band, the Indianapolis Colts, and lasers combined."

April smiled again and cupped her husband's face in her hands. "You're going to rock at this," she said. "You're going to be a kickass dad."

"You think so?" Andy asked, traces of doubt still lingering on his face.

"I know so," April replied. "I mean you covered the living room in bubble wrap! What kid wouldn't love that?"

Andy smiled, "Thanks babe. You're already the best mom in the world." Andy leaned down to give his wife a kiss that was quickly interrupted by another contraction.

"Ahh," April moaned. "Go get the stuff, quick," she waved him away.

"Okay, okay!" Andy said as he turned around quickly to get April's bag and call the doctor, but as he turned around, his shins were met with the newly bubbly wrapped coffee table and after a loud series of pops and curses, Andy laid on his back as he looked up at the ceiling while cradling his arm.

"Are you okay?" April asked as she quickly waddled over to him.

"I'm fine," Andy said as he sat up. "I might need to have a doctor look at my arm though. And we also might need to look into something more effective than bubble wrap."

Chapter Text

"Thanks again for coming with me," Leslie said as she and Ann pulled up to the house.

"Like I'd let you look at houses by yourself," Ann replied as Leslie put the car in park, and they both climbed out into the cool, fall air. "Plus, Ben texted me and asked me to go with you to make sure you don't lease something with a transvestite room." Ann showed Leslie her phone with the text from Ben on the screen as they walked to the front door.

"Ah, trampoline room," Leslie said thinking that Ben really needed to start proofing his texts. "And what Ben doesn't know won't hurt him, okay?"

"Of course," Ann replied as she followed her friend to the front porch where they met Leslie's real estate agent, Martha.

"Hello," Leslie smiled as they stepped onto the front porch. "Martha, this is the wonderful, clever, sexy, and sassy nurse, Ann Perkins."

"You can just call me Ann," Ann attempted a joke as she reached out a hand to shake Martha's. After so many years of knowing Leslie, she still wasn't used to her eccentric introductions.

"Oh, hello," Martha replied, looking confused at a blushing Ann as she shook her hand. "I didn't realize you- I didn't know, I didn't realize this was your partner."

"Partner in crime," Leslie beamed as she nudged Martha's shoulder, her bright, ignorant smile never leaving her face.

"We're not-I'm not-" Ann stuttered. This wasn't the first time someone had mistaken her and Leslie as couple, so she should have been better prepared with a response, but it caught her off guard every time. "I've slept with a lot of men," was all she could manage.

Martha gave what Ann could only interpret as a judgmental stare. "Let's just look at the house, shall we?"

"Yes!" Ann agreed readily. "Let's go look at the house and stop talking."

Martha led them through the master and guest bedrooms and bathrooms as she pointed out features like picture windows and crown molding.

"And this is the living room," Martha explained as she led them into the room. "These are the original hardwood floors. The French doors lead out to a patio, and the archway," she nodded to the far wall, "leads into the dining room.

Leslie nodded, "I love the fireplace," she commented, already thinking of nights she and Ben could spend cuddled on the couch making s'mores.

Martha's cell phone began to ring, and the real estate agent looked down at the number.

"I'm sorry," Martha said, "I have to take this, feel free to keep looking around."

"So what do you think?" Ann asked as Martha left the room. "I mean, this is pretty great, right?"

"I think so," Leslie agreed. "I just need to try to picture Ben here. Can you stand by the window and say something about Star Trek?"

"Um, okay," Ann agreed timidly as she walked over to the window and looked back to Leslie who nodded in encouragement. "Um, I'm Ben and I like Star Trek. Star Trek rocks!" Ann said, doing her best to pretend to be excited over something that Ben would be excited about.

"It's not working," Leslie admitted. "Will you please put on the shirt and tie?" She started digging in her purse to pull out one of Ben's plaid, button-up shirts and a skinny black tie.

"Absolutely not," Ann said as she shook her head to reiterate her point. Ann had already fought and temporarily won this battle three times during the ten-minute drive from Leslie's house to here. "She already thinks I'm batting for the other team," Ann whispered as if Martha might reappear at any minute. "I'm not dressing like a dude."

"I didn't know you played baseball."

"I don't play baseball," Ann sighed in exasperation. "She thinks we're a couple."

"Why do people always think that?" Leslie asked, wrapped up in her thoughts and not at all worried about the implications that having Ann dress up like Ben would have on her already suspicious real estate agent.

Gosh, I don't know, Ann thought. Probably because you ask me to do things like dress up like men. Or maybe it's my lack of boundaries, she wondered. Probably a good combination of both.

"Please, Ann," Leslie begged as she pushed the clothes toward her friend. "Please, please, please! This decision could decide the fate of the rest of our relationship. Did you know that five out of seven couples split because the well-meaning girlfriend picks out the wrong house to lease?"

Ann gave her a questioning stare. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

Leslie ignored her accusation. "Ann, please. This is really big. It'll be for two minutes tops."

Ann sighed. She already knew she would give into Leslie's request eventually. I mean, she had once eaten an entire cheesecake for Leslie, so putting on a shirt and tie wasn't really that big of a deal, and she knew if the shoe was on the other foot, Leslie would be willing to put on a fat suit and go swimming in a pool of pudding for her.

"Fine," Ann reluctantly agreed. "Give me the shirt."

Leslie smiled triumphantly. "Thank you," she said as she thrust the clothes at her. "Okay, put these on, and then stand over by the window. I'll come in, and that'll be it!"

"Alright," Ann said, still hesitant as she took the shirt and started to shrug it on over her top. She silently prayed that Martha's phone call would be long enough to keep her from having to witness this. She buttoned the final button and tucked the shirt into her skinny jeans.

"Are you ready?" Leslie called from the hallway.

"Yeah," Ann called as she took her spot by the window while she finished tucking her tie under her collar. "Wait! Am I still supposed to talk like Ben?"

"Yeah!" Leslie called from the other side of the door.

Ann sighed. "Okay, I'm ready!"

"Hey, honey, I'm home!" Leslie called enthusiastically as she entered the room. "Holy shit!"

"What?" Ann panicked, thinking the only thing to warrant that kind of response out of someone would be a masked murderer standing somewhere in the vicinity.

"You look just like him!" Leslie said as she walked over to her friend.

"I do not," Ann argued.

"Well, I mean, not exactly," Leslie agreed, "His butt is better, no offense. But with your hair pulled back like that, I mean at the right angel."

"Offense. I have an excellent butt," Ann defended. "Can I please take this thing off now?"

"No!" Leslie responded. "I couldn't concentrate. Please, just one more time."

"Fine," Ann said shortly. "You've got one minute."

Leslie skipped out of the room, back into the hallway. "Honey, I'm home!" She called again.

"Oh, Leslie, hello. I was just making some calzones while I watch Star Trek and do some math with these numbers," Ann said with mock enthusiasm in her best Ben voice.

"My gosh, it really is uncanny," Leslie said, going right back to being amazed with Ann's transformation. "You need to think about making this a look permanent."

"You mean like wearing a plaid, button-up shirt and a tie on a regular basis? Out in public? No thanks."

"You look smokin' hot," Leslie commented.

"Thanks," Ann said timidly. "I think. Can I take this off now?"

"No," Leslie responded quickly. "One more time, promise."

Ann threw her hands up in frustration as Leslie once again exited the room. Stupid Ben. Stupid Washington D.C., Ann thought as she paced back and forth in front of the window. She understood that Leslie missed her boyfriend, but she was sure that making her dress up like him wasn't healthy on several different levels. Realizing that Leslie wasn't going to enter until she was in full Ben mode, she called through the room. "I love Leslie Knope! I want to marry Leslie Knope and have her children! And I've got a sexy butt. I've got the sexiest ass in the whole wide-"

Ann turned around but stopped short when she noticed Martha standing at the far entrance of the room, her eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"Oh, um," Ann cleared her voiced and started unbuttoning the men's plaid shirt. "This…this isn't…I've slept with a lot of men..."

Martha simply put her hands innocently in the air and shook her head as if she didn't want to know what was really going on.

"Honey, I'm home!" Leslie called as she walked in on cue.

Ann closed her eyes, trying to figure out exactly how she arrived at this situation. Boundaries, she thought. We've got to start working on boundaries.

Chapter Text

Leslie drummed her thumb nervously against her thigh as she stared, wide awake, at the ceiling. Even with his back turned to her, she could hear Ben's steady breathing, and if that wasn't enough, the slight snore that escaped his mouth occasionally was all the proof she needed to know he was asleep.

She continued to will her eyes open, occasionally pinching her arm, or standing up to walk a lap around the house before crawling back into bed. Around 1:30, she had tried to do a little bit of work. If I'm not going to sleep, I mine as well be productive, but her eyes kept wandering from the computer screen to the bookcase in the living room. Eventually, she had given up, gone over to the bookcase and removed the box that she had carefully tucked behind her favorite autobiography on Margaret Thatcher. The box felt heavy in her hands, the same way it had when Ben handed it to her to reveal her Knope 2012 button, essentially giving her permission to break up with him so she could run for city council. Not quite as weighted as it was when she carefully placed the Washington Monument inside it, giving Ben his turn to chase his dream. She closed her eyes and ran her hand over the worn leather exterior, recalling the way it had made her felt dizzy and flying when Ben produced it from behind his back, dropping to one knee, asking her to be his wife.

She had carried it carefully back to bed, tucking it quietly underneath her pillow like she had imagined a tooth fairy would. Ben never moved.

She could feel it now, still securely underneath her head, which was appropriate as she couldn't seem to take her mind off of it. No, she couldn't sleep. She'd blab about it for sure.

Which left her with one other option, just do it now. She wasn't prepared, and hadn't a clue how to approach it, but it was either that, or face her chamber meeting tomorrow with no sleep and enough coffee (whipped cream and sugar) in her system to power a small city. Now seemed to be the best choice.

"Ben," she whispered still staring at the ceiling. She listened quietly as another snore escaped his lips. He didn't stir.

"Ben," she said again, louder this time as she nudged his shoulder.

"Huh?" Ben asked as he jolted from his side to his back. "What? What's wrong?"

Leslie smiled at her husband as the moon streaming in through their window illuminated Ben's untamed hair. "Nothing," Leslie said as she buried her head in his chest and let him wrap his arms around her. "Were you asleep?" She asked, even though she was well aware of the answer.

"Like 99.9% of the population of Pawnee," he replied. "I was."

"Hmm," she hummed into his chest. "You know what it does to me when you talk percentages."

"Is that what this is?" he asked, rubbing small circles on her back. "A 3:00 a.m. booty call?"

"Only if you want it to be," Leslie smiled into his chest.

"Why are you awake?" he asked her. "Too much work to do?"

"No," Leslie answered feeling her pulse quicken. "I just have something on my mind."

"Work?" Ben asked.

"Not quiet," Leslie answered, willing her voice not to shake and hoping that Ben couldn't feel her heart practically jumping through her chest. "I have something for you."

"You woke me up at 3:00 to give me a gift? Steamroller," he teased.

"Sorry," Leslie apologized, too wrapped up in her own excitement and anxiety to read Ben's sarcasm. "I just, you know I talk in my sleep. I'm an open book, and I didn't want to ruin your surprise, so I couldn't go to sleep, so I've been up all night, but I really want to go to sleep, just for a little bit because I have big day tomorrow, so I thought I could just maybe wake you up really quick, give you your present, and then go to sleep for a few hours before I have to argue for the children's health initiative tomorrow."

Ben wasn't nearly awake enough to follow his wife's rant, so he just nodded and answered, "Of course."

Leslie sat up and switched on the lamp on her bedside table. "Sorry," she said when Ben winced as the light flooded the room.

He shook his head to dismiss her apology as he adjusted his pillows so he was sitting up against their headrest. "Is everything alright?" he asked as he began to pick up on her signs of anxiety.

"Yeah, no, yeah, everything's great. Everything's peachy. We're all good," Leslie lied, fairly certain that she was going to throw up or pass out or do some combination of the two.

"Right," Ben replied, now knowing full well that something was going on.

"Okay," Leslie said, seeing that Ben was obviously waiting for whatever gift was important enough that caused Leslie wake him up in the middle of the night for.

"I wasn't sure how to do this," she said as she pulled the box from under her pillow and handed it to Ben. "I thought about getting a string quartet, or a hundred white doves, but Morgan Freedman was unavailable, and skywriting is really expensive, and if I had to wait another night, I would ruin it for sure. I would tell you in my sleep, and that wasn't how I wanted to – I just wanted to tell you while I was conscious."

She perched on her knees as she fidgeted with the hem of her old Harvest Festival t-shirt. Leslie Knope wasn't a nervous person, and the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach was a new nuisance that she wasn't sure how to deal with. "Open it," she nodded toward the box willing the lump in her throat to go away.

Ben stared at Leslie a second longer, positive that his heart was ready to burst through his chest. "Leslie," he asked, sure he knew what the box would contain, hoping with everything he had that his prediction was true.

"Just open it," she smiled.

Ben obeyed, carefully prying back the lid. As his mind registered what was in the box, his head spun dizzily and he could have taken his pulse through his ears. Words kept bounding through his head, but his mind was in no condition to form complete thoughts or sentences and even if it was, his jaw was far too slack to actually construct words. All he knew for sure was the feeling of pure joy that started warm in his chest and was quickly radiating throughout his entire body.

"Well, say something," Leslie pleaded as a small tear escaping from the corner of her eye.

Ben's own eyes became blurry with tears as they were still glued to the contents of the box. The same box he used to tell Leslie to run for city council. The box that had told him to go to Washington. The box that told Leslie he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The box that was now telling him he was going to be a father.

"It's positive," was all that his trembling voice could manage.

"Yeah," she laughed. "It is."

"You're really…we're really-" Ben still couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Yeah," Leslie answered, again. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."

All Ben could do was break into a big goofy smile as he pulled his wife into his kiss, his head still spinning happily as he thought of the family they were finally starting. "You're pregnant," he said happily in between kisses. "Like I'm going to be a mom and you're going to be a dad."

"Something like that," Leslie laughed through the happy tears that were now steadily streaming down her cheeks.

"We're going to have a baby!" He said happily as he stretched his hand over Leslie's stomach.

Leslie placed her own hand over her husband's. "Yeah," she smiled, her own heart racing with excitement and joy. "We're going to have a baby."

Ben met Leslie with his kiss again and gently pushed her back onto the bed as he hovered above her. He kissed his way across his jaw, the whole time telling her what a great mom she would be, what an amazing child they would have. He stopped when he found her lips, pulling away slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. "I don't care if it's a boy or a girl," he said randomly as he played with one of Leslie's loose curls. "As long as it's healthy, but whatever it is, I hope it's as beautiful, passionate, and kind as you. I love you and like you, Les."

The tears were back in Leslie's eyes, making it hard to see the happiness that was radiating from her husband's face, and even harder for her to say the words that could accurately describe how in love she was with him. Instead, she did the only thing she could. She grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him back into her lips as she simultaneously began pulling it over his head. His hands found the hem of her t-shirt and began to do the same.

They both heard the box fall to the floor with a gentle thud. Well, Leslie thought, I might not be getting any sleep tonight anyway. Not that she was objecting.