"April!"

She turns her head to run and tackle her man, but she is quickly met with a solid form suffocating her face. Solid arms wrap around her and lift her in the air. She is being spun around.

Who is this person? He smells like Andy. Sounds like Andy — "Oh my god, baby, I missed you so much, and you smell like brownies — " and seems like Andy.

She doesn't realize her arms are tight against her sides, so she attempts to shimmy them out underneath his suddenly solid arms.

A failure on her part.

The banes of her existence — and her friends, she guesses — are shocked at something because she can hear multiple words filled with awe and shock around her.

"Dude. Since when did you become Chris Hemsworth? I feel even smaller next to you, man. Thanks a lot."

"I — I thought you said you just stopped drinking beer."

"Damn, Dwyer. Your ass isn't the only fine thing about you now."

"It's nice to see that you're shaping up — "

"Yeah, nobody cares, Jerry. Andy! Oh my goodness! You're really packin'! I'm a little jealous if I do say so myself."

"Wow, Andy. I, um. Just wow. Never in my life have I ever seen you like … like this."

"Perfect, Andy! I finally have a 5K partner. Or, actually, a 15K partner. I amped it up."

"Andy. Son, welcome back."

Not being able to take it anymore — no, really, her husband was suffocating her — April manages to lift her head back and see what the fuss is all about.

Holy shit. "Holy shit," she says.

Andy's grin widens. His face much more angular as opposed to the roundness she was used to. "You got some brownies for me, April?" he asks excitedly.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"Where's … your pillows?"

"Damn it, I knew I should've stolen the pillows back at the hotel I stayed at in London. Honey, when your head — or your butt or whatever — hits that thing, boom! Instant heaven." He sighs longingly.

He then leans in for a kiss and she willingly complies. His arms aren't that tight around her anymore, so she slides it around the small of his back. So much solid.

Her fingers press onto his skin. Too solid.

—

They throw a welcoming back party at the department because they suck ass.

(Actually, it's because it was last-minute. April "failed" to inform Leslie the date of Andy's return, so this was all they had covered.

((They still suck ass. Flabby ass. Like Jerry's.))

Everybody is asking so many damn questions about London. London this, London that. These people are seriously unoriginal. Why can't they ask about the crime rate so the information can somehow convince April to relocate there and increase the rates?

She can find out herself. In bed. On top.

"But seriously, guys. Let's get to the main subject at hand," Tom announces, a flute of champagne held in his hand. He regards Andy seriously. "Andy, how the hell did you do all a' that?"

A quick response: "Wii Fit."

"Really?" Ann says incredulously because Ann is Ann. If it's ridiculous in her perspective, she will comment on it. Jeez. But whatever, she likes her now. Sort of.

Andy snickers. "Nah. The hotel I stayed at was always near these marathons that were held every Saturday and Sunday. I was bored one time — ha, no. I went because there were free sugar-free cupcakes and stuff. It was an anti-diabetes run which I still don't get. Anyway, I went, had fun, and basically did all of 'em. It was awesome." He grabs another finger sandwich. "At the finishing line, they had cupcakes but — wait for it — sugared cupcakes. Some kind of contradictory thinga … majig stuff."

April is busy scrutinizing him. He has his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders while he converses, but he doesn't notice her piercing stares. She eyes the plaid buttoned-down. It's tucked in, and it's supposed to have a belly protruding but instead nothing's protruding except muscles. A lot of them. Big ones, too.

God, it's disgusting.

She loves Andy. Always will. But she is yearning to hug and ravage a large mass of marshmallows, not this towering stack of hard meat.

She notices Donna checking out his ass again, which is apparently firmer and tighter. Leslie's eyes have been wide with awe and jealousy since his arrival. Ann's eyebrows are furrowed, and the whore's even checking out his ass, too. Hell, even Chris is checking her husband out.

April isn't blind. She knows that Andy got even more attractive. He's always been attractive toward her. But she wants a fluffy Andy.

"But the muscles, man," Ben states. April wants to gouge out every person's eyeballs that mention Andy's physique. This is a welcome back party for Andy, not let's-check-out-my-fucking-husband party.

"Jesus Christ, Larry," April says loudly. Just 'cause. And in hopes that people would divert their attention away from Andy.

"Larry" is currently getting another glass of champagne. "What? Wh-What?"

She groans and downs her glass, slamming it on her desk.

Andy is staring at her, ready to ask what's wrong, but she refuses to look at him. This is going to be done in private. In their bedroom. Or on the front lawn.

Still looking at her, he says, "I, uh, helped this lady with boxes every morning. She was my hotel neighbor. She always had these heavy boxes and somehow they created these muscles. For some reason, they won't go away."

"What were the boxes filled with?"

Tom snaps, rolling his eyes, "God, you're so irrelevant, Larry! You wanna know why they won't go away, Andy? It's 'cause they are meant to be passed onto someone else. I'd be a willing receiver, man. Just say the word. You can say it right now."

These people need to, like, disappear. Seriously. This party has been going on for 20 minutes. She's been with these people for 20 minutes plus her work hours. It's going overboard her daily quota.

April wraps her other arm around Andy's stomach so she's hugging him from the side. She slides her hand back expecting to feel a mountain of softness. She is greeted by hard-rock skin.

She grumbles underneath her breath and buries her face in his arm.

—

Andy has been getting all kinds of attention. It's the kind of attention that ruins April's day instantly. It's the kind of attention that she knows Andy's not used to.

During their lunch break, they would eat at the courtyard. He'd be throwing fries or ice cubes her way while she'd be stuffing them down his pants (which is easier to do now that his pants are looser, ugh). A couple of women and men from different departments would stop and ogle blatantly.

Yes. Blatantly.

She'd ask rudely, "What?"

They'd simply smile flirtatiously at her husband who, being the nice guy he is, would smile back confusedly.

At the bar, April would be practically glued to his side and people would buy drinks for Andy. Some even have the audacity of approaching him and flirting right in front of her. Andy would either be confused or uncomfortable, so April would have to pretend she is a cult leader and, with crazed eyes, mumble Spanish curses unintelligibly until they scurry off.

At around 2 in the morning, they are watching a cartoon. They show the weirdest, awesomest shows really late, so sometimes, they stay up until the early hours of the morning regardless of the fact they have work tomorrow.

His head is on her lap, and she's playing with his hair because she has no fats to poke and prod. Andy's phone vibrates on the ground and he picks it up, munching on potato chips.

"Shiiiiiit," he comments, eyes wide. "Babe! Babe, look at this!"

April looks at the screen and yet again her morning is ruined. She snatches the phone from him and glares at it.

"Who the hell sent you this?" she snarls. "Andy Dwyer, why do you have someone sending you a picture of their melons? My melons are the only melons you can see, touch, and have. You can't even have the real melons."

He sits up and turns quickly to face her, hands held up defensively. "Whoa, chill, babe. Your melons are the only ones I've seen. Besides these, 'course. And Ann's. And some pornstars'. And my auntie's but that's a traumatizing moment not to be told." He looks at again. "Damn. They're huge."

"You want huge melons now? Then take them! You seem to like big melons just like how you like big arms on you." She scoots away from him until she's at the far end of the couch.

He scoots back to her, practically crushing her against the arm of the couch. "April," he says with his serious voice and wide eyes, "your melons are the best ever. They may not be the biggest, but they are the best. If they were orange or — or shaped like pizzas, I'd still think they are the best. I'm pretty sure you know how much I like them." He has a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

She feels a smile creeping on her lips so she turns her attention back to the abnormal mountains on his phone. "Must be a pornstar's. Or Larry's."

Andy looks like he wants to vomit after that. She's glad.

—

Ever since Andy came back, they haven't had sex. He always loses against jet-lag. (The first few days were torture. They would be on completely different schedules.) Every time they arrive home from somewhere, they make out but he ends up falling asleep. It irks April and it kind of feels like unconscious rejection or whatever.

April is not insecure about her body. She's skinny and not Larry, so that's an ego boost. Her melons are small compared to Leslie's and Ann's — nah, Ann's melons suck. But still, April's are small, but Andy said he liked them best. But then again, besides the pornstar's boobs and other bitches' from the past, hers are the only ones he's seen so he's biased.

Oh God. Insecurity's for lame-asses.

April pokes another hole in the ink of the pen. The ink oozes out gradually, and she pours it into the fern near her. Donna is out with Tom for their "Treat Yo-Self Day," so she's alone and bored as hell. She has no choice but to contemplate about her sex life.

Like she has one.

She wonders how the sex would be like now. It would be different considering how fit Andy is. Unfortunately, it would be uncomfortable because she'd be laying on top of hard muscles.

"Being fit is great, babe!" Andy exclaimed last night. "I can, like, almost beat Chris at marathons and stuff. I was about to drink a can of beer earlier today, but apparently he was hiding in our kitchen — dude's stealthy as hell, April — and he smacked the beer outta my hands before a drop could even fall into my mouth and it was super freakin' badass. I worship Chris now. I did before 'cause the dude's like some type of Greek dude. Also, you should try these vegan shakes that have anchovies and something else that I can't pronounce. Seriously, if I start saying the word, my mouth starts looking like a horse neighing in slow-mo. And another thing, wow, babe, you look so freakin' gorgeous right now. Come over here and — " And then he crashed on the bed.

April may or may not have dumped eighteen sugar cubes in his vegan shit. She regretted it now because as soon as she saw that hungry glint in his eyes, he had to succumb to sleep yet again. It wasn't even jet lag this time. Damn.

This boredom is killing her. She could check on the dogs for the seventh time, but there is that smell that came from a certain corner in the storage room. She wants to still ignore it because she doesn't want to deal with it.

Maybe she should deal with it.

God, look at what this boredom is doing to her. Turning her into someone productive.

A stack of boxes falls behind her. "Oh shit," someone hisses behind her.

Before April could turn around and gladly do something, a pair of warm, strong arms snakes around her waist. Andy buries his face in the side of her neck and plants a wet kiss on it.

"Hey baby," he murmurs. "I was tryna be stealthy like Chris, but those boxes appeared outta nowhere. You got some paranormal stuff goin' on here. Best check it out before more of 'em appear. For safety purposes."

She nuzzles her cheek against his head, hair tickling her cheek. "And so you could sneak up behind me successfully, huh," she states.

He groans in her neck. "It's so freaking sexy how much you know about me."

April bites her lower lip. They are the only ones here, so … "How sexy?"

His arms tightens briefly before he pulls them back, places his hands on her hips, twists her around, and sets her upon the counter. It's all a blur. Andy did that action before many times, but it was never that fast.

He steps between her legs. (She's wearing a dress, hell yeah.) The hungry glint makes its appearance yet again in his eyes. He leans forward and captures her lips passionately.

Immediately, April snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. She feels his hands travel up her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress upwards. She opens her mouth, welcoming his curious and exploratory tongue.

They pull away, and his lips begin its voyage down her slender neck. "Mm, I missed you so much, babe. You're so fucking hot," he whispers huskily, biting her neck here and there.

April resists the urge to moan because it's embarrassing. However, it's getting harder to stifle it because he starts doing that thing with his hands on her —

A feminine gasp interruptes them. April groans aloud and pushes away her husband who is now kissing down her collarbone and to the valley of her breasts. This dress isn't even low-cut, so how do his lips end up there?

"You two should totally be in my next film," Pawnee's local pornographic star Brandi Maxxxx suggests. "You guys are almost as hot as that one film where I was portraying a cat trainer and this guy — "

April interrupts her irritably, "Yeah, don't care. Go away."

She gasps again. Ugh, it was grating. "The guy had the same personality as you and big eyes, too! Not as big as his — "

"Oh hey! It's Brandi Max! Or, is it Brandi Max-x-x-x-x? Or Brandi — never mind. Hey, hey." Andy releases his hold on her and steps away. He rests his arms on the counter beside April and leans forward as if telling a secret. "Were you the one that sent those pictures of your boobs to me?"

"What's your name?"

"Andy. Dywer. Dywer, Andy."

"Dywer … Andy … Nope! Your name is unfamiliar to me. I send pictures of my boobs to everybody in my contact list so they remember them. Even the president of the America!"

"Yeah, okay. Still don't care. Crawl away."

"So is it Max-x-x-x exclamation point?"

And yet another fucking gasp. "I totes should change it to that! Maybe it'll help me win for my next campaign for city councilor."

—

April isn't pissed off at her husband. She's just pissed off at the entirety of the situation. Maybe if Andy hadn't gotten all Hulky, then maybe she would actually have an existent sex life. Maybe she could sleep better at night. Maybe he would be around more because every sucker in Pawnee all of a sudden wanted a piece of him — as if he wasn't popular enough because of MouseRat and his personality.

It's better to be pissed off. It's easier for her. She doesn't like being pissed off at Andy because he always has that genuinely befuddled, cute expression on his face.

Damn it, it is also irritating how he never knew what he does that makes her so mad. Normally his ignorance is dorky and endearing, but there is only so much she could handle.

"Babe."

She flips a page of the magazine.

"Babe."

Pregnant? Again? Get another hobby, April thinks, rolling her eyes and ignoring someone.

"Babe, pleeeeaaaaase."

"Larry, did you fart?"

"What?"

"God, you're like a walking lump of flatulence. Stop ruining my — "

Andy appears in her line of vision, plants his elbows on her desk, and places his hands on both sides of her head to prevent her from escaping.

"You don't normally initiate a conversation with Larry willingly unless something's bugging you. It most likely has something to do with me since you won't talk to me and you didn't give me some of your Mac N' Cheese this morning. Also, you kissed Champion this morning, not me. Only Champion," he says seriously, eyes wide and penetrating through hers. "Please tell me what's wrong, April."

April wants to retreat and hide in the third floor because it matches her soul, but she couldn't do that to him. He is her rock, the only thing keeping her grounded and sane.

Scratch that, just grounded. She revels in insanity.

"Larry, leave," she commands, eyes locked through his eyes unwillingly.

"But Leslie wants me to fax these docs by today — "

"Go!"

"Ugh, fine, fine."

A few minutes pass. Andy is determinedly staring at his wife, patiently waiting for an answer. April breaks the contact and instead stared at her manicured nails.

"Can you let go of my face?" she asks quietly.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong. I don't like it when you don't talk to me." The concern and hurt are prevalent in his tone. She feels like shit.

"I just started not talking to you now."

"April."

He's using his rare tone. The tone that always made her stop what she was doing and look at him. Which she does.

"It's just … Ever since you came back from London, all macho and brawny and muscley … we never got to really hang out. Or, you know, as much as we could. Everyone keeps stealing you away from me, and … " She sounds so pathetic. She's worrying over nothing. Andy loves her, but she has to explain herself. "We haven't had sex, and yeah, it's 'cause you're tired and we get interrupted. But maybe it's 'cause my boobs aren't big enough or I'm not … not pretty like Leslie or Ann — "

"April Ludgate Dwyer," Andy says gravely, his rare tone. "You are the most important person in my life. I love you more than music. I love you. And you not being 'pretty enough'? That's bullshit. Babe, you're pretty in your little dresses and skirts. You're adorable in your PJs and scary amount of wigs. You're sexy in a bikini, in my clothes, or when you wore those short-shorts during the heatwave. You're fucking beautiful, April. Never — never forget that. Okay?"

There is no way tears were prickling at the corners of her eyes. No freakin' way.

One falls down, and he wipes it with his thumb instantly. He has a soft, warm smile on his face. She is in love with this man. Incredibly so.

"You're awesomesauce, you know that?" she whispers, eyes through his.

His smile turns into a grin, and he leans in and kisses her.

—

They are currently challenging each other on the Xbox when suddenly Andy flings the controller over his shoulder after April begins yelling at the screen. He grabs her and places her on his lap, legs straddling him. The married couple eagerly kisses one another.

Andy's hand begins crawling up her back underneath her shirt, underneath her bra, and she knows her sex life is coming back.

It wasn't as different as before. Of course it was more fast-paced and it lasted longer, but all in all, it was the same. April is satisfied — in more ways than one.

Over the last few weeks, Andy hasn't been working out with Chris. He is starting to get chubbier and softer but still retaining some of that hard muscle mass.

His physical appearance doesn't matter. He is always handsome to her. Besides, what April fell in love with is how he was always so cheerful and hopeful. He brought her out of the shell she wasn't aware she was hiding underneath. He makes her appreciate life and the little things. He makes her want to be better. He makes her feel beautiful and loved.

That's all that matters.