(A/N): This one’s definitely rated T. Or like a PG-13. Arthur has some dirty thoughts, but it’s not explicit at all. He’s also really touch-starved. Also, I think I’m making Arthur a little younger than Alfred in this fic. Maybe Alfred’s in his twenties and Arthur’s eighteen or nineteen. Had to just write an awkward boy starstruck by his crush. It’s likely unreciprocated but Arthur can dream, right?
I stared at Alfred, internally begging for someone to put me out of my misery. When my doctor had recommended physical therapy, I hadn’t been expecting someone like Alfred to be my physical therapist. Sure, I’d known that it would likely be someone fit who was around my age, but I was expecting them to be some annoying showoff of a muscle-man. Alfred- well, sure, some would say that he was just that- but he was also funny and sweet. Plus, he always tried to make exercises more fun for me. And maybe he was also dead sexy when he stretched and revealed some of his midriff, or when he was showing me how to do certain exercises. But that wasn’t the most important thing! When I thought of Alfred, my mind didn’t immediately go to his muscles or the way it felt when he touched my back, quite close to my arse, to help me maintain good form while I did my squats. It went to his personality! After all, it would’ve been quite ungentlemanly of me to think of his body instead of his heart. But they were both quite good. Quite good indeed.
“Hey Arthur!” Alfred greeted me as I walked through the door, gesturing for me to come into the larger portion of the building- the area made for exercise, as opposed to the small waiting section.
“Hello!” I called, closer to a shout.
Once I got close enough, he gave me a high five and set the timer on the exercise bike for me.
Ten minutes. Ten minutes. of pure agony. For the entire time I was there, I absolutely hated the exercise bike. It wasn’t hard per se, but it was quite annoying. The only thing that kept me sane on that stupid bike was my favorite music blasting through my earbuds. But luckily, the time always seemed to pass quickly on the damned thing. The main problem was that my legs always felt like jelly when I got off.
I wobbled over to one of the tables, which was where most of my exercises were and tripped, stumbling into someone’s arms. When I looked up to see that I was in Alfred’s arms, I felt my face heat up.
“Hey, if the bike’s making you unsteady, then next time, I’ll turn down the resistance.”
“I- uh- well, erm… thank you.” I was surprised that I somehow managed to stammer out some sort of coherent response. Normally, when I was around Alfred, I could barely get a word out. Other than greetings, of course. Those had become easy… without too much practice. But when he told me to do something? I usually only nodded, staying silent.
“No need to thank me. I just wanna do what’s best for your health, dude.” He patted me on the back and I was quite close to the human version of purring.
I just nodded in reply.
“And you have a new exercise today! I’m gonna get you started on that one now, but after that, just go on with your routine.”
I nodded again, ready to accept anything.
“So, it’s lumbar extensions and flexions, which are going to help your back. Take it easy and don’t hyperextend anything, Arthur.” Alfred said, getting onto one of the tables to demonstrate.
I had no idea what the first part of that meant, but I was hanging on his every word, just because it was him. His voice, similarly to most other things about him, was simply captivating.
“I’ll do good for you, Alfred,” I promised. And my head completely lost any thoughts that were in it. That was such a weird thing to say in reply to him. And it came out unreasonably sexual. I resisted the urge to slam my head on the table.
But Alfred gave me a thumbs-up, a smile, and a quick reply. “Great! Do your best. These ones are fairly simple. Just watch what I do.”
I got onto the table next to him, watching intently.
“Just arch your back, like so.” He demonstrated. “Then stretch it downwards.”
And that’s when the dirty thoughts started running through my head. I wondered if Alfred would watch me do the exercise. I hoped he would. I hoped he’d admire me, picturing my back arching under different circumstances.
Was that fucked up of me to think? Probably. Was it the worst thing I’d thought about him doing to me? Definitely not.
And I froze when I felt a hand on my back.
“Lower, Arthur. I know I said not to hyperextend anything, but you’re barely arching your back at all. And that’s pretty much the whole point of the exercise.” He laughed.
He pressed gently on my back and I didn’t know what to feel. My heart was rejoicing and it was so much contact. His hands were always so strong and I just couldn’t help my thoughts from bubbling out of my brain.
“Fuck me,” I mumbled subconsciously.
“What?!” Alfred asked, and I was certain that he heard me.
“Fuck you!” I shouted, running off to hide in the bathroom.
a ben x leslie fluff piece where ben just needs to go to bed
parks and recreation, season 4
535 words, gen audiences
a/n: in other words, i’m writing instead of working on finals because i can’t stop my adoration for fictional tv characters.
Ben knows he needs to take a break. He really does.
Just three more forms, two more speeches, and revising a script for the local TV spot tomorrow. He looked up at the clock. How is it already past midnight? Last he looked it was only 10. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair till it stood on end. One more form, two more speeches…no, that’s not right…
Three consecutive nights of worrying over Leslie’s campaign had left his brain muddled, but he fought to remain conscious. He wouldn’t hesitate to say that this was one of the most important things he’d done, and not just because it was the first thing that went beyond numbers and spreadsheets and data and budgets and projections like all the other towns.
No. This was for Leslie. A bright sunbeam of a human who was fighting just as hard, if not harder, for a spot she deserved. And he’d fill out a thousand forms for her, even if it meant that he didn’t get a proper night’s sleep for the next three months.
He rubbed his chilled hands together, trying to get his circulation going, but his blood seems to have stagnated. He knew he always got cold if he worked too hard and too late – maybe it’s his body going into hibernation, and maybe his blood sugar’s just too low. In any case, he’d just have to push through, and then he’d be able to go home and stumble into his bed and curl up under three blankets and get warm again.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s freezing and still on the second form. He’s trying desperately to keep his eyes open, but sleep is winning, broken by the occasional shiver. He wrapped his arms around his torso and swears that he’ll only close his eyes for a second.
He’s so tired he doesn’t notice the muffled footsteps behind him, and he jumps when he feels the hand on his shoulder. Ben turns to find Leslie, dressed in his grey sweatpants and wearing a t-shirt that reads “The Future is Female”.
“Les – I thought you went to bed–“
She’s at his side before he can finish the sentence, and before he can protest, she’s got her arm around his waist and he’s standing, and he’s walking, she’s warm, and suddenly he’s up in her room. He stares at her guilelessly as she gently sets him on the edge of his bed, loosening his tie and removing his shoes, revealing his blue socks with tiny USS Enterprises.
“Come on, you. Get under the covers before you freeze, Ice Town.”
He hadn’t noticed how cold he’d gotten until he felt the warmth of the covers surround him, and he pulled them more tightly around himself. He was about to tell Leslie that he was just going to close his eyes for a few minutes, and then he’d head home, but Leslie slid in beside him and wrapped her arms around him. Warmth spread through his body as he decided to keep his mouth shut.
“Good night, my political popsicle,” she murmured as he drifted off to sleep.
