Gesundheit - Parks and Rec, m (Ben)

[angora48]

As usual, it's been way too long since I've posted any fic. I finally managed to write up this one, though - hope you like it. It's set early during season 3, at some point before the harvest festival. Most of the major characters on the show appear at some point here, but the ones we're mainly concerned about are Ben (of course!) and Leslie.

Here's Part 1. Things are still getting started here, so it's more of a prelude to the "good stuff." Luckily, I always try to complete a fic before I start posting it, so I ought to be able to update pretty regularly. And here we go!

 

It was 9:30 in the morning, and Ben Wyatt was on his third call with Leslie Knope (not counting the two missed calls he found already on his phone when he woke up at 7:15.) In other words, just your average Monday.

This time, it was to discuss food vendors for the harvest festival. “I mean, I know it might be controversial, but I just feel really strongly about it,” Leslie was saying, coming to a pause in her latest ramble. “What do you think? Am I crazy? Am I trying to fly too close to the sun on this one?”

Ben didn’t quite have the energy for all the Monday-morning Leslie coming at him out of his phone right now, but he still found himself smiling. “I say go for it,” he replied.

“Yes? Yes. Yes!” Leslie said. “Okay, can’t take it back now. The Norwegian-Mexican fusion booth will officially be kitty-corner to the fried corn-on-a-cob-on-a-stick booth!” Ben knew that Leslie had an enormous map of the festival layout on a bulletin board in her office, and he could just picture the excitement with which she was rearranging the push pins for Uff Da/¡Olé! and Fried Corn-on-the-Cob-on-a-Stick (you had to admit, it delivered what it promised.) Even if Ben couldn’t muster Leslie’s enthusiasm on the best of days, there was something about it that he kind of loved.

“Right – minds will be blown,” Ben agreed, sardonically but fondly. “So hey, I still have a few numbers to crunch on the latest analysis, but I’ll bring it by later and we can go over it.”

“Sounds good,” Leslie told him. When most people said that, it was just an automatic response, but when Leslie said it, Ben believed her. “Ooh, I’d better go – there’s like a 50-50 chance Andy is about to light his eyebrows on fire.” And with that, she was gone.

One of the things Ben liked about his job was seeing the way each town was at once completely different and yet entirely the same. Pawnee fit in with that general philosophy, but just barely. Sure, they had budget problems, inter-department squabbles, job worries, and a defensive sort of hometown pride mixed with mild-to-moderate hometown embarrassment, like most anywhere Ben visited, but his time here had been marked by all sorts of things he could scarcely believe were happening. At first, it was a little bewildering to him, but by now, he found himself mostly able to lean into the chaos and just accept it.

“Was that the parks department?” Chris, at his desk across the room, asked.

Ben had just settled back into his several open windows of spreadsheets, and it took a second for Chris’s words to reach him. “Uh- uh, yeah,” he said, blinking a little to get himself to focus; he was out of it this morning. “I’m working on those revised estimates for the harvest festival.”

“Great department,” Chris enthused. “Without a doubt, the most delightful people I have ever had the good pleasure to encounter!”

Nearly anyone who met Leslie Knope would probably say she was the most optimistic person they’d ever met. Ben couldn’t say that, but it was only because he already knew Chris. This time, though, he wasn’t prepared to argue. “Yeah, they’re really something,” he said.

“Absolutely!” Chris replied. The thing about upbeat people was that they could invigorate you or exhaust you, with almost equal measure, and going straight from a call with Leslie to a conversation with Chris was taking a lot out of Ben.

Fortunately, it looked like Ben was about to have the office to himself for a bit. “I’m gonna pop out for a quick 5K before my next meeting,” Chris announced cheerfully, “really get my mind ready to listen to new ideas. Need me to bring anything back here for you?”

He already jogging in place; what was that about being exhausting? “No thanks, I’m good,” Ben said. In truth, he could really use a coffee, but he wasn’t about to ask Chris for one – if he did, he was liable to get green tea or something instead and he needed more of a caffeine boost than that.

“Suit yourself – let me know if you change your mind!” Chris called, by then already halfway out the door.

Ben thought the quiet would help him concentrate, but his head wasn’t in the game that morning. Some people’s eyes glazed over looking at numbers, but not Ben’s – at least, not normally. Today, he kept catching himself rereading the same lines. What was the matter with him?

Whether it was an overall Monday-morning slow start, the middling-at-best sleep he got in his motel room, or the drizzly-looking sky outside affecting his mood, Ben was not with it. His eyes feeling a little bleary, he stood up and stretched. God knew where Chris or Leslie found their energy, because he certainly didn’t. He’d better go get that cup of coffee after all, or he was going to be fighting with these figures all morning.

Edited August 13, 2020 by angora48
Fixed the link for the picture of Ben

[All Time No]

This is so good! Can’t wait for part two!

[ID2006]

I don't watch the show but loving this so far.

[angora48]

Thanks for the comments! I had a lot of fun writing this. 😀

Here's Part 2. Still in the "build-up" phase, but I promise the sneezing is coming soon!

 

Ben managed to revive himself a little, a very little. Caffeine helped him wake up, but by mid-morning, it also started to give him a headache. Luckily, Chris just made a quick post-run pit stop back at the office before heading off to meet with a few department heads – Ben didn’t need a lecture on letting foreign substances contaminate his body.

By the time he finished reviewing the new figures for the harvest festival’s known expenditures and potential revenue, it was close enough to lunchtime that Ben decided to hold off on visiting the parks department until afterwards. He got a bit of work done on some of the cuts to the sewage department, at which point he was ready to get something to eat.

Even though he was still feeling tired, Ben didn’t want to just swing by the commissary. He hoped that getting out and moving around a little would help (although, unlike Chris, he never had and never would utter the words “quick 5K” in his life,) so he grabbed his keys and printouts of the parks department estimates, then headed outside. The dreary sight of the gray sky almost made him turn back around, but Ben pressed on.

The soup-and-sandwich place he had in mind was only a few blocks away. Still, the air was chilly and Ben didn’t like the look of the clouds, so he made the executive decision to jump in his car (he would not tell Chris he’d done this.) Before long, he was settling into a booth – bad idea, it was cold sitting next to the window – and ordering a toasted BLT. Leaving his jacket on, Ben poked around on his phone a little before deciding he probably didn’t need to stare at a screen while he had a headache.

Ben was several bites into his sandwich before he started to notice the dull ache in his throat. A few more cautious bites confirmed the slight sting he felt whenever he swallowed. Put together with his headache and how tired he felt, it wasn’t encouraging. By the time he was finished eating, his nose was starting to feel just the slightest bit stuffed up. Terrific.

Hastily, Ben wiped his hands on his napkin, then pulled out his phone again. He dialed, waited, and….

“Ben Wyatt! Can’t think of anyone I’d rather talk to at this precise moment! What are you up to on this incredible day?”

Ben wondered if Chris had any awareness of heavy-looking clouds outside or if he viewed the world through a lens of permanent sunshine. “Hey Chris,” he said, sniffing lightly. “So listen-”

“Hold on – I hear sniffles,” Chris interrupted, trading his usual cheerful intensity for just plain intensity. “Are you sick? You shouldn’t be in the office if you’re sick, Ben. My body’s a microchip, you know this. Tell me you know not to be in the office when you’re sick!”

“Hey Chris,” Ben repeated, making as if he hadn’t heard this spiral of germophobic panic. “Just letting you know I won’t be coming back into the office this afterdoon – I feel like I’m starting to get a cold. I have a few thigs to take care of at the parks departbent, then I’ll head back to my motel add work from there for the next few days.”

And just like that, Chris’s switch flipped back to upbeat positivity. “Great! Perfect. Feel better!”

“Sure,” Ben replied, bemused, but Chris was already gone.

Back outside, Ben decided to make a stop at the drug store down the block before returning to city hall. His nose felt a little runny, and even if he wouldn’t be at the parks department long, he’d be better off if he had tissues with him.

Soon enough, he was parking outside city hall again, stuffing a packet of tissues into his pocket and grabbing his folders. He jogged to the entrance, turning his collar up against the damp, chilly air. Inside, he sniffed, rubbing his nose a little and clearing his throat.

When he got to the parks department, Ben looked around briefly, standing there with his folders and not wading too far inside. “Hey Donna,” he said, “have you seed-?”

But he didn’t have to finish his question, because at that moment, Leslie came barreling out of Ron’s office and seized him by the arm. “Oh my god, Ben!” she exclaimed, dragging him toward her office. “Just the person I need! Come on, there’s not a second to waste.”

Ben suppressed a chuckle. “Didn’t realize you felt so strogly about expenditures,” he observed.

Leslie gave him a perplexed, wild look. “What?” Ben held up his folders and she said, “Oh, that. No – that’s irrelevant.” She grabbed the folders and threw them aside, scattering papers everywhere. “Well, not irrelevant, we’re going to need them eventually, just not-” As they reached her office, she cried, “Tom! Grab those papers, put them back in order,” before pulling Ben over to her desk.

“We have the makings of a serious crisis,” she told Ben, and from the set of her jaw, Ben had no doubt she meant it. But then, for Leslie, “a serious crisis” could range from “the department’s in financial freefall” to “our flyers were printed on green paper instead of blue,” so it was a toss-up.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked.

“You know Scott Wolfe, the farmer who’s been growing the corn maze for the harvest festival?” Leslie said. “Well, he has a daughter, and she’s good with technology. She has a drone, and she likes flying it.” No one could build a statement into a full-on narrative like Leslie; Ben settled in, wriggling his nose while he waited for her to make her way back to her point.

“Yesterday, Amber Wolfe took her drone out for a spin, a favorite pastime of hers,” Leslie went on, “little suspecting what-”

“Oh my god,” Tom groaned from outside the door, where he was still on his heads and knees gathering up the scattered spreadsheets. “There’s a penis in the corn maze!”

Leslie sighed. “Damnit, Tom!” she grumbled before turning back to Ben. “Yes, there’s – well, see for yourself.” She grabbed a photograph off her desk and handed it to Ben.

It was an aerial shot of the corn maze, and in amongst the various twists and paths grown in the corn, there was an unmistakable shape near the northeast corner of the maze. “That’s a pedis all right,” Ben agreed.

“Exactly!” Leslie exclaimed. “You see the issue. We need to get on this now, before the press gets wind of it.”

Ben frowned; he cleared his throat lightly. “You really think-?”

“She’s a 15-year-old with photos of a government penis maze, Ben – of course she’s going to take it to the press!” Leslie insisted. “Right. Tom, you man the phones. Reveal nothing. Ben, you’re with me. We’re getting out on the streets, trying to get ahead of this thing.”

Now, Ben hadn’t been planning on sticking around past sharing the new harvest festival figures with Leslie, and “getting out on the streets” on a drizzly day when he was getting a cold wasn’t his idea of a good time. But when Leslie set her mind to something, she usually got it. “…All hads od deck,” Ben agreed. He cleared his throat again and sniffed.

Leslie nodded decisively. “Move out,” she said. “We’ve got a corn maze to neuter.”

[All Time No]

I’m hooked! You’ve got the characterization down to a T, and I’m really enjoying this. Can’t wait for the next installment!

[Dingalingkling]

This is phenomenal, and I’m not even a big parks and Rec fan! So here for this!!

[jem]

This is a great fic so far! I love Ben and Leslie so much. You've got the dialogue down perfectly! I can't wait to see what's next

[angora48]

Thanks, everybody! Stelena, ITA - Ben and Leslie are SUCH a great ship, I love them.

Here's Part 3:

 

First item of business was to question both Scott and Amber Wolfe. Amber was smug and unrepentant, ready to play hardball, and Scott pleaded ignorance up one side of him and down the other. Leslie was inclined to believe him – Scott was a steady guy, solid, not the type to volunteer to help out with a government project and then commit anarchy.

Next on the agenda was a tour of the scene. Tricky business. It was in a maze, after all, and they didn’t have all day to spend wandering around in the corn (and the mud – it was starting to sprinkle lightly. Luckily, Ben kept an umbrella in his car and thought to grab it before they left.) In the end, Scott guided them out toward what Amber referred to as “Dong Alley,” taking the sketch that had served as his blueprint for planting the corn in the first place and using it as a map.

“Now here, we want to go… left?” he said, looking down at the sketch with a puzzled frown.

“Where are we?” Ben asked, also frowning at the sketch. He was holding his umbrella, hunching his shoulders like he was trying to keep warm. It was a little chilly out.

“Here,” Scott said. “…I think?”

“Just what we wadt to hear,” Ben mumbled. He coughed lightly into his shoulder. “I would say let’s turn back, but there’s doh guarantee we could get back.”

“Oh, come on, we can’t turn back now!” Leslie told him. “Not when we’re so close!”

“But are we?” Ben asked.

Leslie prided herself on being cool in a crisis, and so she managed to find a way to rally her slightly-unethused troops. Borrowing Scott’s phone, she called Amber and talked the girl into flying her drone back out over the maze, locating their position and then guiding them to the offending path in question.

“What if I don’t want to?” Amber asked, a note of challenge in her voice.

“Consider yourself lucky I only made you get rid of those pictures,” Leslie replied. “That drone could find itself in the possession of the Pawnee city government real fast if it turns out you’re feeling uncooperative.”

“Actually, Leslie, that was a birthday present,” Scott pointed out. “It wasn’t cheap.”

Leslie waved him away. “Relax, Scott, it’s called bluffing for leverage!” she whispered, covering the receiver. “So what do you say, Amber?” she continued. “You gonna help us, or did the parks department just get a new drone?”

Before long, they had a drone escort to the area in question (although Leslie had to admit that, objectively, Dong Alley was a really funny name, she would not use it in reference to a government catastrophe.) As they trekked through the mud, Ben walked alongside Leslie, holding his umbrella over her like the gentleman that he was.

He seemed quieter than usual, and for him, quiet kind of was usual. “You okay?” Leslie asked him.

“Okay? Yes,” Ben replied. “Dod’t doh that I’d go any higher than that, though.” He sniffed, peering out at the steadily-increasing rain past the umbrella.

“Oh, come on!” Leslie encouraged. “A little adventure is good for you!”

“You do doh that I travel all over the state for by job, right?” Ben asked.

“Exactly, but how much of these towns do you really see?” Leslie countered. “You can’t experience Pawnee from behind a computer, Ben. You’ve gotta get out there on the ground, really get your feet wet!”

“Check add check,” Ben told her. He shifted the umbrella so he could rub his nose with his knuckles.

“It’s all part and parcel of being in the parks department,” Leslie went on. “No two days-”

“Hehhhhhh-chuhhhhhhhh!” Ben sneezed, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said. “No two days are the same. I love it.”

As it turned out, the area in question didn’t tell them much. Once they arrived in the affected sector, Leslie walked the curving paths of the “anatomy,” as it were, but on the ground, there was nothing to really indicate that it was shaped like a penis.

“See, Leslie?” Scott offered, watching her round the right testicle. “I really don’t think anyone will be able to tell.”

“Not from down here, maybe,” Leslie reasoned, “but all it takes is one more aerial photograph – or one careless comment from that hooligan daughter of yours-”

“Leslie, come on now,” Scott protested.

“You’re right, that was out of line, I’m sure she’s lovely when she’s not exposing accidental government obscenities,” Leslie conceded. “The point is, as soon as it gets out, that’s it. Parents won’t let their kids go into the maze. Teenagers are going to come back here and hook up. Hell, I can’t let my own colleague Tom Haverford know that Amber is calling it Dong Alley or he’ll have signs put up for it!”

“All good points,” Ben agreed. “Bet they’d be just as cobpelling walking back toward the house.”

“Look, Scott,” Leslie went on, “I’ll level with you. The parks department is having a rough time of it right now, and we’re putting most of our eggs into the harvest festival. If it’s anything less than a resounding success, there might not be a parks department on the other side of this. And-”

“Ihhhhhh-shooooooo!” Ben sneezed.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie remarked before turning back to Scott. “I know that might sound like it’s just my problem, but really, it’s Pawnee’s problem. We need parks. We need somewhere to go where it’s safe and pretty and fun. And if I can’t deliver on that, I’m going to be letting the town down.” At her side, Ben put a hand on Leslie’s shoulder.

Scott nodded. “Let’s head on back, Leslie,” he suggested, “and get this figured out.”

[All Time No]

I love how Leslie is so wrapped up in the crisis she’s completely oblivious to Ben’s problem! So in character. You’re a very good writer, and I’m looking forward to seeing where you take this story next!

[Dingalingkling]

Such a good update! And your writing is spectacular!

[HowFitting]

I’m really into this, love it so far! 

[VividBubbles!]

Totally agree with the comment that Leslie is so perfectly in character being wrapped up in the crisis and not noticing Ben, and I’d also like to add that Ben just kind of sucking it up with his cold even though he doesn’t feel good because he’s gotten caught up with Leslie and her wonderful brand of insanity is so perfectly in character too. Looking forward to more!

[angora48]

Thanks for the comments, everybody! All Time No and VividBubbles!, thinking of what a particular character would be like with a cold/how other characters react to it, is always step one for me of writing a sickfic. I put a lot of time into that (maybe too much? hehe), so I'm glad you agree that Leslie and Ben's actions here are in character!

Without further ado, here's Part 4:

 

From there, it was back to the farm to discuss strategy. The penis couldn’t be filled in, since anything newly-planted wouldn’t grow to the height of the rest of the maze, only drawing more attention to the area in question. That left cutting down stalks to make some new paths that obscured the unfortunate shape.

The whole penis incident had shaken Scott’s confidence, so he wasn’t prepared to amend his own blueprint (he swore up and down that it hadn’t looked like a penis in the sketch – he showed Leslie the drawing, and it was iffy.) The next stop, then, was to the community college, to find an art major to save the day.

“This is going to take an artist’s eye,” Leslie explained to Ben on the drive over. “We need enough new paths to obscure the penis, but if we put in too many, it’s going to turn into a mess. And then, there’s a question of which paths to make dead ends and which to connect to others….”

“Never a dull boment in Pawdee,” Ben observed dryly. His breath hitched a little, and he turned, sneezing a “hihhhhh-chiuhhhhh!” into his shoulder.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him. She frowned; this was at least the fifth or sixth time Ben had sneezed that afternoon. Sneaking a look at him, she noticed that he looked tired. He sniffed.

“Do you have a cold?” Leslie asked, surprise in her voice. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to realize it.

“Uh, yeah,” Ben replied, “starting to get wud.” He rubbed his nose sheepishly, if it was possible to rub a nose sheepishly.

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” Leslie asked him. “I wouldn’t have dragged you out in the rain. I’d have made Tom do it.”

“Thed for your sake, it’s probably good that I didn’t say addything,” Ben responded with a wry crook of a smile.

Leslie found herself grinning back. “Yeah, solving penis-shaped problems isn’t really one of Tom’s strengths,” she conceded.

Ben frowned, cocking his head. “Add his strengths would be what exactly?”

“Oh, come on!” Leslie exclaimed. “Schmoozing, pumping people up, thinking outside the box (when he wants to,) knowing cool dance moves. Also, you’d be surprised at how hard he works when it’s something he’s motivated about – I just wish he was motivated about parks a little more often.”

“Wow,” Ben said with another sniff. “You had that list locked add- add loaded.” He cleared his throat, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth.

 “Sure I do,” Leslie told him. “I have a list for everyone at the parks department, plus Ann and Andy.” Her list for Ben was still a work in progress, but it was shaping up to be a good one.

This idea amused Ben, and he pressed her details from some of her other lists. Leslie was halfway through April – unflappable, knowing when someone’s lying, shutting people down when they’re being mean, knowing about young-people things – when Ben sneezed again, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth to cover a forceful “huhhhhh-choooooo!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said. “Seriously, I could drop you back off at city hall if you want. I didn’t mean to make you run around all over town when you’re sick – I’m sorry.”

“Leslie, I’be fine,” Ben told her, sniffing. “Besides, I’be in this now. You add I, we need to see this penis baze through to the end.”

So, onwards and upwards. At the community college, they had to approach several art students before they found one interested in using a cornfield as a medium. Then that one turned out to be a bust – after a couple minutes of watching him sketch, Leslie realized he was just adding more penises to the corn maze. More art students, more rejections, until finally, they found their corn-maze Michelangelo.

“You probably don’t want to call her that,” Ben pointed out softly, “what with the statue of David add everything.”

“Good point,” Leslie agreed. “That Eric, he was the corn-maze Michelangelo. Gabby here, she’s the corn-maze… Picasso? Picasso didn’t have any penises, did he?”

“If he did, they probably were- wered’t sha-ayped….” Ben closed his eyes, drawing in a breath. He turned, sneezing a “ehhhhhh-shiiuhhhhhhh!” into the crook of his arm.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him.

“Thadks,” Ben mumbled. Giving his nose a quick rub, he cleared his throat. “They probably wered’t shaped like dormal penises,” he finished, “so I doubt addyone could tell.”

“I’ll take it,” Leslie replied. “You’re our corn-maze Picasso, Gabby!” she called to the young artist working her magic.

“Please stop talking,” Gabby replied, no doubt out of modesty.

When their corn-maze Picasso put the finishing touches on her masterpiece, Leslie was ready to run it straight back to Scott Wolfe, but Ben reasoned that, since it was after 6 p.m. and still raining, the farmer wouldn’t be cutting any new paths in the corn maze at least until morning and so wouldn’t need the new blueprint before then. Leslie was able to concede that he had a point.

After thanking Gabby profusely for her artistic genius, Leslie met Ben back by the entrance. He was wiping his nose with a Kleenex as she approached – his umbrella tucked a little awkwardly under one arm – and Leslie couldn’t help but feel guilty. If she hadn’t noticed anything off about Ben when he showed up at the parks department that afternoon, it was now clear that he was getting sick.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you ready to head out?”

“Ub, yeah,” Ben replied, giving his nose a final wipe and then hastily shoving the Kleenex back in his pocket.

“I’ll just take this home tonight,” Leslie reasoned, proffering the new drawing of the corn maze. “I already called Scott, told him I can bring it by tomorrow before work.”

“Sounds good,” Ben said. He frowned, just a little, as he cleared his throat, and Leslie decided it was as good a time as any to make up for dropping the ball earlier.

“If you’re up for it, can I buy you dinner?” she said. “I mean, I kind of owe you one.”

Her words seemed to catch Ben off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, closed it, considered. “Yeah,” he finally answered. “Yeah, o- okay.” He sniffed, touching his nose lightly.

“All right – JJ’s, on me,” Leslie announced. “Let’s go.” She pulled the door open, moving aside to let Ben open his umbrella before they stepped back out into the parking lot.

[All Time No]

This just keeps getting better! Can’t wait to see where you take it next!

[angora48]

Aw, thanks, All Time No! Ask and you shall receive. 😉

Part 5!

 

Technically, Leslie said she was buying dinner, but when she ordered waffles, Ben quickly flipped to the all-day-breakfast side of the menu and picked out an omelet with a side of hash browns. “Add coffee – decaf,” he added as the waiter started to walk away.

“Don’t you just love it here?” Leslie said contently, looking around the little diner. “I could eat here every day.”

To hear Ron tell it, that wasn’t too far from the truth. “It’s a dice place,” Ben conceded. His nose was a little stuffy; he sniffed, giving it a rub with his finger.

Leslie winced. “I am sorry, really,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have dragged you out in the rain.”

“Hey, I’be a big boy,” Ben replied. “I could’ve said no.”

Leslie leaned in, offering him a disarming smile. “But could you really though?” she asked.

Normally, yes. Saying no was a not-inconsiderate part of Ben’s job description. But saying no to Leslie? He had to admit that was harder. “Okay, maybe d- dot…” he said, cupping his hands over his mouth as he felt a sneeze coming on. “hehhhhhh-iiihhhhhh-shiahhhhhh!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said.

Still covering his mouth, Ben couldn’t help smiling, just a little. Leslie said “gesundheit” every time he sneezed. Every. Single. Time.

“But all right,” Leslie went on, “I’ll let you take part of the blame if you really want it. Even though I was totally peer-pressuring you, you could’ve said, ‘Doh, Leslie, I’be goig to stay at the office. I’be dot feelig good.’” She pinched her nose shut to imitate him. Ben colored slightly, hoping he didn’t sound that bad.

“Actually, I was going to be leaving the office soon addyway,” Ben noted – he cleared his throat – “so I guess it all balances out.”

Leslie raised her eyebrows at that. “You were heading out?” she asked. “Where to?”

“Back to my botel room,” Ben explained, “after our beeting.” It wasn’t until he caught the dismayed look on Leslie’s face that he realized he hadn’t made himself clear.

“You were going home sick?” she asked.

“Well,” Ben pointed out (awkwardly, he had to say,) “‘hobe’ is in Iddianapolis, so…”

“You know what I mean,” Leslie countered. “No one says ‘going motel room sick.’ But, you were?” She looked crestfallen.

“Doh,” Ben assured her, although his congestion probably wasn’t selling her on that; he sniffed again. “No, I- it’s more for Chris thad for me. He gets really anal about gerbs, so if we’re od the road sobewhere and I get a cold or something, I just- I work out of by botel roob udt- uhhhhh….” He had to sneeze – it bore mentioning, Ben hadn’t started sneezing until they trudged through the mud in that corn maze. He clapped a hand over his mouth. “ehhhhhhh-chooooooo!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him.

Ben sniffed hastily. “-U-until I get the all-clear frob Chris to come back,” he finished. Still sniffing, he fished a tissue from his pocket and wiped his nose a little. “It’s just how we operate,” he added.

“I’m still sorry,” Leslie repeated. “When I see a problem, I can get tunnel vision on it and not notice anything else.” Truer words….

“But that’s what bakes you so good at what you do,” Ben told her. “You throw everything idto what you’re doing, add nothing’s more ibportant id that boment. That’s how you get people to follow you like they do.”

Seriously. Ben hadn’t been in a great mood as they’d traipsed around the Wolfe farm, shivering under his umbrella and dwelling on how his headache seemed to pulse with every soggy footfall. It had seemed so stupid and pointless to him, but then Leslie had talked to Scott Wolfe about how important it was to Pawnee not to let anything disrupt the harvest festival, and suddenly, everything else mattered a little less. Ben stopped thinking about his wet socks and the dull ache that was starting to settle in his throat, and all he could see was this incredibly-genuine woman on a mission for the good of her town. It wasn’t pointless to her, and that was enough for him.

“Ron says that is my best worst quality,” Leslie commented without a hint of irony.

“I’ll bet he does,” Ben agreed.

The food came, and Ben admitted it felt good to eat. The coffee warmed him up a little, and the omelet – mushrooms, tomatoes, sausage, and Swiss cheese – was tasty enough that he didn’t mind the mild discomfort that came with each swallow. Put that together with Leslie’s lively company, and it made for an all-right end to a long, tiring day. If it weren’t for his nose bothering him, Ben might’ve almost said he was having a good time.

By the end of dinner, even though Ben was in what passed for a good mood, the events of the day and his rapidly-developing cold were starting to catch up with him; as Leslie deliberated over her top five political speeches of the 1980s (she knew, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall,” was essential, but she couldn’t decide how high to rank it,) Ben lifted the back of his hand to his mouth to hide a yawn.

“Oh, crap,” Leslie said, with a sort of lopsided smile. “I’m doing it again.”

“Sorry – you’re dot boring, really,” Ben told her, and she wasn’t. Taking in a sharp, hitching breath, he turned and buried his face in his shoulder. “ahhhh-chiiuuhhhh!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said. “And maybe not, but you’re sick and want to get to bed, and here I am yammering on about a subject that, while fascinating, isn’t called for right this second.” She lifted her hand to the passing waiter. “Excuse me, check please?” And back to Ben, “Let’s call it a night so you can get out of here.”

Leslie had driven them to JJ’s, so Ben rode with her back to city hall to get his car, sniffing because he didn’t want to have to blow his nose in front of her. “Feel better,” Leslie instructed Ben as she pulled into the parking lot.

“I’ll do what I cad,” Ben told her. He rubbed it with his finger.

As he moved to open the door, Leslie said, “Oh, hey!” Ben turned back to her.

“If you say you’re going to be working tomorrow anyway,” Leslie went on, “why don’t you come to the parks department? We’ll find a spot for you. If Chris doesn’t like it, he can stay away, and it’s gotta be better than holing up in your motel room all by yourself.”

Ben wasn’t sure what to make of the offer. He sniffed, rubbing his nose again. “I- you guys dod’t want me add by germs around,” he started to demure.

“Don’t worry about it, seriously,” Leslie told him. “I mean, if you’re gonna be taking a sick day, sure, stick with the place that’s got a bed, but if you’re gonna work when you’re feeling crappy, you should at least have some friends around.”

As a rule, Ben didn’t think of the people he met while traveling for work as friends, but the folks in Pawnee were starting to get past his usual defenses – Leslie in particular. “Baybe,” he conceded.

“Consider it, at least,” Leslie urged.

“O-oh…” Ben gasped as an itch flooded his sinuses. Quickly, he pulled a tissue from his pocket, catching a somewhat-messy “hahhhh-shiahhhhhhh!” in it.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said with a wince.

Sure he was blushing at least a little, Ben wiped his nose with as much dignity as he could manage. “…Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, you’ll come?” Leslie asked hopefully.

“Okay, I’ll thidk about it,” Ben corrected. He opened the car door. It was drizzling lightly, but with his own car only about ten feet away, it seemed like overkill to use his umbrella. “Maybe see you toborrow thed – good night,” he said.

“Night,” Leslie replied, waving as Ben ran through the wet, chilly evening to his car.

[ID2006]

Awww. I hope someone comes to Ben's rescue and really helps take care of him.

[All Time No]

Awww poor Ben! He’s such a little cutie! You’re really nailing this, and you’ve definitely got me on the edge of my seat!

[VividBubbles!]

This is seriously reawakening my love for Ben Wyatt. He’s just such a soft boi for Leslie and I love it so much.

[HowFitting]

😍 I truly love this! 

[angora48]

Thanks, everybody! VividBubbles!, I know, right? What's not to love about Ben Wyatt? And ickydog2006, I torture because I love.

Here's Part 6.

 

Morning came way too early. Ben woke up with a cough, a messy nose, and a less-than-generous disposition. Actually, it wasn’t so much “woke up” as it was “jolted out of his semi-conscious stupor when his alarm went off.” Because let’s face it, sleep was a commodity in limited supply last night, and Ben spent plenty of time tossing around and trying to get comfortable. The fact that the mattress in his motel room somehow managed to be simultaneously hard, lumpy, and sagging in the middle didn’t help matters.

The one bit of luck was that he’d had the foresight to shower when he got back the night before, so even if he looked slightly south of presentable, he at least didn’t smell (presumably – stuffed up as he was, it’s not like Ben could tell.) With a lethargic sort of determination, Ben got himself dressed, ready, and in the car with a breakfast bar at what passed for a decent time.

“Hehhh-ihhhhhhh…” Ben dug in his pocket for his rapidly-dwindling packet of tissues as he sat at a light. He managed to seize one just as the sneeze got the better of him. “ehhhhh-shooooo-uhhhhh!” he sneezed into the tissue, gripping the steering wheel with his other hand. The light changed while he was mopping up his nose, and the Pawneean behind him immediately started honking. The morning was off to a terrific start.

He didn’t get a chance to blow his nose until he arrived at city hall, pulling into the parking lot and trying not to glance around at whoever might be walking by his car. Then, a hit from the mini-bottle of hand sanitizer in his pocket, and he headed into the building.

Ben made a pit stop at the coffee machine before making his way down the hall to the parks department. His head felt fuzzy, and he knew he was going to need some caffeine to keep from going cross-eyed while poring over spreadsheets when he was this tired. He poked at the buttons and waited for the seen-better-days coffee machine to rumble into life, stifling a yawn into the back of his hand.

“Hey! Good morning.”

Ben didn’t have to turn around to know whose chipper voice that was. “Hey,” he said to Leslie, his voice low and stuffed up. Leslie stopped beside him, and Ben gave her a glance and the barest hint of a friendly smile, sniffling as coffee finally starting dribbling into his cup.

“How’s your cold?” Leslie asked.

“Oh, you doh, awesobe,” Ben replied flatly. He turned away from her, sneezing a hard “hehhhhh-chiiuhhhhhhhh!” into his shoulder.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him.

This time, Ben’s smile was a little less perfunctory. “You doh, you dod’t actually have to say that every tibe,” he pointed out. “I’be pretty sure that, at sobe poidt a-aaahhhhh….” Crap, he had to sneeze again - he went for the crook of his arm this time. “ehhhhhhhhh-shooooooo-uhhhhhhh!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said as Ben sniffed, fishing out another tissue from his pocket to wipe his nose.

“As I was saying,” he resumed, clearing his throat, “at sobe poidt after the first dozzed sdeezes, I thidk you get to call it good.”

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of Indianapolis values you were raised on-” Leslie began.

“I’be frob Biddesota, but go od,” Ben interjected.

“-But here in Pawnee, we bless sneezes,” Leslie informed him. “We care about each other.”

Ben would’ve made a wry retort, but his nose still had it in for him. “ahhhhhhh-shuhhhhhhh!” he sneezed into the tissue.

As Leslie said, “Gesundheit,” (of course,) Andy, coming up behind them, said, “Hey, are you sick?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ben replied, glancing down as he hastily rubbed his nose. “Just a cold, I’be fi-”

“Sucks to be you!” Andy exclaimed, calling “Later!” to them both as he continued his saunter down the hall.

Now Ben didn’t need his wry retort; he just gave Leslie a knowing look as he pressed the lid onto his coffee cup.

“To be fair, he said it very affectionately,” Leslie countered.

Ben started to reply, then change his mind. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” he conceded. He coughed a little into his shoulder.

“Okay, so he didn’t prove my point,” Leslie admitted as they began to walk together toward the parks department, “but if it had been Tom….” She frowned. “You know what, Tom’s a bad example. Apri--? Ro--?” She stopped, cocking her head like an inquisitive dog. “…Donna?” This didn’t bear fruit for her, either. “God, everyone I work with is great, but I think they all might’ve been raised by feral wolves.”

“It’s fide,” Ben assured her. “I’be sure you display eduff Pawdee values for all of theb.” The coffee was incredibly welcome to his groggy head, but it hurt to swallow – he cleared his throat.

They arrived at the parks department, where Leslie headed for the conference room. “I thought we’d set you up in here,” she explained, flicking on the light switch, and Ben noticed she’d placed a bottled water, a box of tissues, and a bottle of hand sanitizer at the end of the table.

“Wod’t you deed it?” Ben asked, frowning. The First Rule of Ben Being Sick was “don’t be a bother” – he hated the idea of imposing on anyone.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” Leslie assured him. “We can always meet out front-” (Ben’s coming sneeze must’ve been evident in his expression, because she paused until he buried a “huhhhhh-CHOOOOOO-ehhhhh!” into his shoulder,) “-if we need to – gesundheit. If Chris complains at all, we can say you’re quarantined in here, plus I figured you might appreciate a little privacy, in case you were self-conscious about being sick.”

“I’be dot-” Ben started to say but, realizing there was little point, amended his denial to, “-that self-codscious.”

Leslie grinned. “I’ve got your number, Wyatt,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “You’re good at that.” Now, since two entire walls of the conference were basically all windows looking out toward the rest of the department, any privacy was dubious at best, but still. He had a door he could shut, and either way, he appreciated the consideration.

“All right, I’ll let you get to it,” Leslie said. As she turned to go, she added, “Oh, wait. Can we go over those figures for the harvest festival later today? With yesterday’s crisis, we never got around to it.”

There was something endearing in the way she referred to the events of the previous afternoon as a “crisis” without a hint of irony. “Oh, right,” Ben said. “S-suuur-re….” He dropped his stuff on the conference room table so he could cover his mouth with both hands. “ihhhhhh-shiiioooooo!”

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said. “I have a few things I have to get done this morning, so how about… 11-ish? Does that work for you?”

Ben nodded, rubbing his nose with his finger. “Sounds good,” he replied.

“Great!” Leslie exclaimed. “See you later.” She headed off to her own office, shutting the conference room door behind her (she didn’t miss a thing.)

Sitting down at the spot Leslie had set up for him, Ben noticed that she’d also placed a wastebasket close by. No time like the present, he thought as he plucked a fresh tissue from the box, blowing his nose before he got to work.

[Seeker]

I'm late to this party but I LOVE this! You have the characters perfect and I liked the little build up to sickness. I'm anxious for more

[VividBubbles!]

Every update has just made me love this fic more and more. Looking forward to reading the next update!

[All Time No]

Ben is so freakin adorable! I love this so much! Can’t wait for the next update!

[angora48]

Thanks for all the comments! Seeker, I love a good buildup to sickness too - I love sneezing, but it's really about the whole sickfic "package" for me, and that includes the early stage where someone is JUST starting to feel sick.

Here's Part 7!

 

Leslie spent the morning putting out the usual parks department fires (not actual fires, except for that one over by the eighth hole of the golf course, and ironically, it was a small fire – the metaphorical fires she had to deal with were much bigger.) As such, she didn’t talk to Ben again until it hit 11 o’clock, although she did send April into the conference room a little before 10 to see if he needed anything. By the look on Ben’s face through the window, he found the exchange almost as painful as April did, and Leslie made a mental note not to do that again. April didn’t exactly do bedside manner – not that it was bedside, since they were at work, but the point still stood.

Ben had looked tired when he came in in the morning, and while he hadn’t look a wreck in anything, it was easy to see from his body language that he felt sick. By 11, when Leslie returned to the conference room, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he was feeling worse. His face looked just a little bit pale against his dark hair, and when he spoke (“Oh – hey,” he mumbled as he looked up with a start when she opened the door,) his voice was noticeably scratchy and congested.

“Hey,” Leslie said, smiling sympathetically. “You doing okay?”

“Y-” Ben began but sputtered into a cough from the back of his throat. He turned in his chair and coughed into the crook of his arm. “Mbb, yeah,” he said, grimacing a little as he turned back to her. He cleared his throat and took a swallow of water. “Did you have a chadce to look over the-?”

Leslie held up the folder he’d brought her the day before. “Kind of – budgets aren’t my strong suit,” she admitted. “I marked out some questions, and more will probably come up as we go over it. That is, if you’re okay to-”

“Yeah,” Ben told her, quick enough to sound defensive. “Yeah, I’be good.” He must have caught her skeptical look because he added, “Really. Ab I doing cartwheels right dow? Obviou- obvi-ious-ly... dot…” He had to sneeze, was trying not to and losing.

Leslie waited patiently as his breath hitched and he finally grabbed a Kleenex, covering his nose and mouth for a hard “ehhhhhh… ihhhhhhh… hehhhhhh-UHHHHHH-shooooo!”

“Gesundheit,” she said.

Ben swallowed a weary, stuffed-up sigh. “It’s duthing I cad’t haddle,” he said firmly when he emerged from behind the Kleenex, dabbing at his nose and sniffing hard. “If I coulded’t work, there’d be doh point id be hagging aroud here tying up your codference roob. Dow, cobe od – let’s do this.”

At Ben’s request, Leslie sat a few chairs away from him (“Actually, could you sit there? I just dod’t wadt to give you by cold,”) and they got to work. Leslie was admittedly impressed that he could maintain the attention to detail that a spreadsheet full of numbers called for when he was obviously feeling crappy. And yeah, she could tell his usually-sharp mind was a little foggy, but he managed to pull out everything he needed with only minimal delay.

“Dow, I doh you dod’t wadt to idcrease ticket prices for the gabes,” he said.

“Exactly – kids shouldn’t be kept from playing games just because their parents don’t have as much money,” Leslie told him.

“Right, so that’s why I was thidking of-” Ben sniffed, wriggling his nose, “-of a bore-for-less deal. So we keep the twedty tickets for five dollars, but we say fifty tickets for ted dollars. That’s ad easy way to idcrease revedue, because it idcentivizes people to pay the higher price for bore tickets. People would rather spedd bore at a bargaid thad save.”

Leslie nodded. “And it’d be good for families with lots of kids,” she noted. “But can we swing that? We’d still make a profit, even if we’re selling more tickets for less?”

Ben, pressing his face into his shoulder, let out a breathy, “ahhhhh-shiiehhhhhhh!” (“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him.) “That’s the beauty of it,” he told her. “Gabes are ad easy erder, because there’s dot a lot of overhead add boste of the prizes are dodated addyway. Yeah, we’d techdically be baking a-” stifling a cough, he cleared his throat, “-a few cents less per ticket, but that doesn’t batter if it beads we sell sig- sigdificantly… bore… ahhhhhh-hehhhhhhhh-shuhhhhhhhh!” he sneezed into a Kleenex.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said. “Okay, makes sense to me. Now, on page 3….”

On they went, Ben’s observations and figuring, Leslie’s questions. When Leslie first met Ben, she thought he was a penny-pinching hardass, but she was coming to realize that, when his powers were deployed properly, there was a lot of good they could do for Pawnee. He could identify problem areas where they needed to brainstorm solutions, and he had some good ideas of how to make the festival more profitable for the parks department. Now, thinking of community events in terms of profit kind of made Leslie’s teeth itch, but she realized how precarious things were with the budget situation. Taking in money from the harvest festival would mean money they’d have to fund other services, and that could only be a good thing.

“Wait, go back,” Leslie said. “How are you supposed to have a harvest festival without hay bales? Ben, have you actually been a crazy person this whole time?”

“Doh- I’be dot saying doh hay,” Ben told her. “We’ll deed sobe for the addibals, add that’s reasodable.” As he continued, he closed his eyes briefly, rubbing the spot between his eyes. “But- but decorative hay bales, just stacked aroud for show? They cost too buch for dot eduff value – that’s gotta-“ he sniffed, “-gotta be sobething we cad cut.”

Leslie groaned. “But it’s part of the ambience!” she insisted. “Ben, think of the ambience!”

“I’be just s- say-ihhhng…” Ben began, trailing off as his breath started to hitch. “Ahhhhhhhh… huhhhhhhh-CHOOOO!” He sneezed hard into his cupped hands.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie said.

“Mbb,” Ben mumbled, rubbing his nose with a wet sniffle, “is abbiedce worth elevved dollars a bale?” He cleared his throat. “With all the places you barked out od the site bap,” sniffling again, “add you figure at least three bales for each spot – grouped together or whatever, that’s, ub….” He put pressure on the spot between his eyes. Frowning, Ben looked over his figures, sniffling as he ran a finger down the columns. “Hag od….”

“It’s all right,” Leslie started to say.

But Ben had found what he was looking for. “Ah! Here,” he said, stifling a cough. “We’re talkig six huddred biddibub, for abbiedce.” Sniffling, he reached for a Kleenex and wiped his nose. “Is it really worth that to you?”

“I see your point,” Leslie admitted.

“Exactly,” Ben told her. “So, are we agreed? Cad-” sniffling, “-cad I cut it?”

“Wait a second,” Leslie told him. She frowned, thinking hard. “…Okay, here’s a thought,” she finally said. “We get one extra bale, maybe two, and some extra twine. Then we take the bales apart and glue the hay to the outside of a bunch of cardboard boxes? Fix them up like-”

“ahhhhhhh-shiiahhhhhhhhh!” Ben sneezed, pressing his hand to his face.

“Gesundheit,” Leslie told him. “Fix them up so they look like hay bales. The hay will stretch a lot further if the ‘bales’ are mostly cardboard on the inside.”

Ben considered this, rubbing his nose. “That could work,” he agreed. “We’d deed to put sobethig heavy id the boxes, so they dod’t blow away.” He cleared his throat. “Would kide of wreck the illusiod.”

He sniffled yet again and Leslie asked, “Do you need to blow your nose?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ben admitted with a self-deprecating grimace. “Is it dubb if I ask you to step out for a biddute?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Leslie told him seriously; she grinned. “But I get it.” She rose. “I’ll go check in with Ron – see you in a bit.”

Leslie noticed Ben pull a few Kleenexes from his box as she made her way to the door, but he didn’t lift them to his nose until she was out of the conference room. It didn’t surprise her. He’d done that last night, too – even though he had Kleenexes, he never blew his nose in front of her, just wiped it and sniffled. But that only gets you so far. At some point, you just have to get it out.

One quick thing with Ron turned into six quick things, so it was longer than Leslie expected before she started making her way back – and even then, she made a quick stop at her own desk first. If it took Ben longer than that to blow his nose, then he probably shouldn’t be working. (He maybe shouldn’t have been working anyway. He sounded miserable.)

“Here,” Leslie said as she reentered the conference room, tossing Ben what she’d grabbed out of her desk drawer. That might not have been the greatest idea – Leslie had yet to see much evidence of athletic skill from Ben, and he wasn’t exactly at his best today – but he managed to catch the object before it hit him in the jaw. He looked down at the aspirin bottle in his hands.

“You looked like you might have a headache,” Leslie explained.

A smile flickered across Ben’s tired face. “Thadks,” he said. He shook a couple pills into his hand and popped them into his mouth, taking a swig from his bottle of water. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Okay – hay bales. Are we od the sabe page?”

Leslie nodded. “I think we’ve got it,” she agreed. She scribbled a quick note in the margins of her packet. “What’s next?”

[Seeker]

Ahhh I love it so much! I love the congested speech! Also, I like that it seems like a real episode. The hay issue and solution was marvelous, I would have never thought it