Lesson Learned
"Hey, Leslie?" Ben calls from across the dining room table. When they eat together, it's either full of lovely conversation or comfortably silent. Today it's been both, however they'd fallen into a quiet period right before Ben spoke up again.
Leslie looks up from her pasta, their eyes locking in a very familiar way. "Yeah?"
She stares at him expectantly when seconds pass and he still hasn't answered, and he stares right back at her, brown eyes meeting blue, his head tilting to the side as a soft smile materializes on his face.
"What?" Leslie finally asks impatiently. "Do I have something on my face?"
He shakes his head and Leslie looks around her, even more confused. Thank God Ben chooses this moment to speak up again because she was just about to bounce off the walls. Part of her wonders if that's why he does stuff like that. To keep her on her toes.
"It's nothing, just— can I kiss you?"
Leslie can't deny the way her eyes narrow and her face scrunches up a little confusedly. Not because she doesn't want his kiss, quite the opposite, actually, but he's never had to ask. This is the same man who could grab her in a passionate frenzy and kiss her in a way that leaves her gasping for breath, but then he has these softer moments, ones she can't quite explain but still melt her heart.
Of course, messing with him is one of her favorite things to do, so just responding in the affirmative and letting the moment pass doesn't sit right by her. She purses her lips, corners lifting up into a smirk, holding back hysterical laughter.
"I don't know, Ben," Leslie responds, "CAN you?"
He just sits there, motionless, before his face contorts to one of exasperation, clearly not amused.
He rolls his eyes. "Did you really just say that?"
"Something tells me it was not a good idea."
"No, it was not."
And this is what results in them running all over their new house, Leslie cheekily trying to escape Ben's wrath.
"I think I've lost him," Leslie whispers to herself, choosing to hide behind a wall next to their bedroom door, peeking her head just beyond the edge to make sure he's not still tailing her.
Nothing.
It's quiet.
Too quiet. That's never a good sign. It's the kind of silence that occurs in a movie just before the climax, right before someone gets murdered.
She peeks her head out again. Still nothing.
"Boo!" She jumps, whirling around to see Ben with a shit-eating grin on his face. Her heart is pounding so hard she swears the entire world can hear it, and this time, she's the one who doesn't look so amused.
She crosses her arms and purses her lips again, tapping her foot against the wooden floor, making a satisfying clicking sound.
"Are you satisfied?" She asks him.
"Not yet." And next thing she knows, his hands are trailing up her sides, tickling her softly. She pushes against his chest to no avail, strong arms trapping her.
"Ben! Stop!" Leslie repeats through fits of involuntary laughter. "Yes! You can kiss me."
His hands stop their ministrations, and suddenly, he's turning, pressing a soft kiss to her lips that she quickly reciprocates, teeth bumping together through smiling lips.
Lesson learned, it seems.