#washette fluff

[jefferoni-quotes]

18 and 56 with the father and son relationship of washingdad and laf? pretty please?

18. “It’s okay to cry...”

56. “I don’t do hugs.”

I couldn’t decide between soft Lafayette being comforted or tough Lafayette comforting, so have something in between.

Modern AU (but I have a headcanon that Lafayetet still calls Washington ‘General,’, because he respects him that much and it makes them both smile)

- - -

Washington rubbed his temples so hard that his knuckles went white. He scrunched his eyes up and little creases and wrinkles showed up by the sides of them in stress.

“General? General, are you okay?” Lafayette cracked the office door open, and stepped inside.

George glanced up momentarily. “I’m busy at the moment, Marquis. Just go away please.”

“General.” Lafayette said sternly. “I was not born yesterday. I can see when something is upsetting you.” He closed the door and dropped down the few stairs into the main part of his office.

Washington chuckled. “You’re a smart man, Laf.”

“I know that.” Lafayette chuckled. “Now. What’s stressing you out?” He plopped down on the armchair across the room.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just busy, and I have a lot of pent up emotion.” George confessed, clammy hands grasping the edges of his desk. Lafayette rose and practically sprinted over like an Olympian, settling his arms on Washington’s desk.

“Liar!” Lafayette smirked. He looked forward at the man who had essentially raised him and frowned. “It’s okay to cry...”

“I don’t need to cry.” George insisted, looking down again. Lafayette narrowed his eyes, he knew what needed to be done. He swiped across the desk, sending his work crashing to the ground. “MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?” Washington exploded, thumping a fist off the table. One tear gathered in his eye, but he quickly wiped it away. If one fell, a rainstorm would follow.

“Then maybe you need a hug.” Lafayette smiled lovingly.

“I don’t do hugs.” He stared coldly, a stone glare.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “Everyone does hugs. Even you, General.” He tipped his chin up, looking up into the light. “I need one too...”

“Fine, Fine. I accept. But this is to cheer you up! Not me!”

“Of course.”

- - -

Requests are open!

[daphneyoumustmakehaste]

Okay okay okay I couldn’t resist

George looked over at his boyfriend perched on the armchair besides the fireplace. His face was facing downwards, eyes scanning the pages on his lap. His ponytail had loosened, so some of his face was framed by loose hairs.

George shifted in his seat to get a better look at him, closing the book on the American Civil War he had been reading. He lay it idly in his lap and craned his neck to get a better view of Lafayette.

He had a concentrated expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed as he continued to read. His mouth was morphed into a small, natural frown. His finger travelled mesmerisingly over the cream-coloured page.

“Hey, Laf?” George called out softly. Lafayette’s head shot up from his book and looked over at George, whose lips had curved into a loving smile as he watched his lover.

“Oui, amour?” He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly; the movement caused more of his hair to fall out the loose ponytail. Lafayette’s hands moved upwards and pulled out his hair tie, but immediately tied it back up again — tighter this time.

“You have a...” he paused, completely forgetting what he was going to say. Lafayette raised an eyebrow silently. “Nice face?”

He mentally kicked himself. You have a nice face? What the fuck, George?

Lafayette’s face portrayed confusion, but only for a second. He soon regained composure and smiled back at George. “Oui. Oui, I do.”

“I mean,” he tried again, racking his brain for better pick up lines, if you could even call that a pick up line. “A nice face.” There it was again. A nice fucking face. Flirt of the year: you have a nice face

“Uh, thank you? I think?” Gilbert was still smiling, mostly out of amusement, but his eyes were definitely questioning.

“Oh my God,” George groaned, running his hands up and down his face; it had been a long day. “Please accept my awkward attempts of flirting, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He heard Lafayette chuckle, and watched him delicately place a bookmark on the page where he was at. He got up and made his way over to George, a wide smile on his face; George’s face was a dark red colour.

“Bien sûr, j'accepte votre flirt terrible, mon amour,” he gushed, sitting down besides George and draping his arms above his elbows and around his neck. George replied by letting his head fall onto Lafs shoulder, groaning something unintelligible.

“Tu es trop mignon,” he cooed. George huffed and gripped Lafayette’s hips, pulling him onto his lap.

“Shut up, or you’re sleeping on the couch,” George threatened, but his voice was bright and airy.

“Not if I make you sleep on the couch first,” Lafayette replied, tapping his head with his index finger. “You love me too much anyway.”

“I don’t know why.” He looked at Gilbert, who was smiling at him with the most adorable, irresistible smile. “But I do.”

“And I love you,” Lafayette said, nuzzling George’s neck with his head. “My terrible flirter.”

He smiled to himself smugly. That was until George pushed him off his lap and sauntered off up the winding staircase towards their bedroom.

“Non, Amour! Désolé! Désolé!” He called after him. Lafayette let out an audible noise of frustration and dragged himself to his feet, racing after George.

It took him half an hour filled with coaxing, puppy dog eyes, threatening and kissing to get George to let him lie down on the bed, and another fifteen minutes filled with whining and harassing to get George to cuddle him, but once he was in George’s arms, nothing could get him out of them

[catchperfectamericanpresidents]

Washington x Lafayette

Hi, Anon! It's called Washette, btw.

Anyways, Washette isn't a ship for me, mostly due to the age difference, but I can see the appeal! Their letters are definitely flowery on both of their parts, and both of them trusted and confided in each other greatly. Lafayette might have had some serious idolization with Washington, and possible... inclinations. I really doubt he’d act on that- Washington probably wouldn’t have encouraged it ( Him caring too much about his reputation ). Of course, there's a pretty clear explanation for that, they having a father-son relationship, after all, and Lafayette is French... so...

Then again... Damn, the fluff potential.

[silverdragonoid]

If you need a reason to smile or miss the clench of your heart that only adoration can cause or just want to feel jealous because no one writes you cute letters like George does, then I recommend this fic to you. This flowery Washette one shot is just as sweet as its author, @jacepens . Enjoy!

[honeybeelilac]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler Characters: Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Philip Hamilton, James Madison, Aaron Burr, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Charles Lee, George Washington Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Gay Thomas Jefferson, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Dead Philip Hamilton, Dead Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Mentioned James Madison, Sad and Sweet, Jamilton - Freeform, Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Modern Era, Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt Thomas Jefferson, Anxiety Attacks, Separation Anxiety Summary:

CHAPTER FIVE 

Three years ago, Alexander Hamilton lost his wife and son to a car crash. Ever since, he has been at his worst. He's lonely, angry, and comes bearing a drinking problem. He has PTSD from his past, and is now left traumatised by the cruel event that took his family from him, too. Overall, he's a mess.

One year ago, Thomas Jefferson lost his best and longest friend, James, to suicide. He's left scarred and alone with abandonment issues. Thomas too, is a mess.

Thomas works at a bar that Alexander frequently visits, and upon several visits, he begins to notice that things aren't going well for the strange man. He approaches Alexander on his night off, and they spark an unexpected friendship that blossoms into more. Something really worth treasuring.

[coffee-planty]

A wild Hamilton!

[legrandepapillon]

Safety (washette)

Summary: The zombie apocalypse seemed like the worst thing that could happen, but it wasn’t all bad. Prompt: “I just want to protect you.” Author’s Notes: based on the video game State of Decay 2, but instead of a little camp thing I decided it would be cooler if it were a complex

“Alright, people,” Washington’s voice rings out, loud and sharp over the hum of the compound activity going on outside. It was a late Summer evening, and although the sun was still high in the sky─blistering down on the heads of everyone around them─the clock definitely betrayed it. It easily looked to be around noon, but in two hours, they’d close the gates to the militarized apartment complex and the Field team would set out for the night. They recovered survivors, supplies and weapons during the evening time─preferred it against the broad daylight, when most of the infected were particularly ravenous or the cover of nighttime, when raiders ran the most rampant. Things quieted down during the evening time. Almost time, the older man thinks, a single hand shielding his eyes from the blazing sun. No matter how many years he’d spent doing this since the original outbreak, or how hard he tried to push it to the back of his mind, supply runs would always make him nervous. His well-trained Field crew could easily become one of those mindless, flesh-eating monsters. “Let’s get inside. We don’t want any civilians out when we open the gates.”

Most of the people that had taken up in the complex were just normal people. Most of the people that George and his field crew had recovered had jobs inside the complex─gardening, cooking, inventory, etcetera─but it was only a handful of people that had been outside the gates since the outbreak, and all of them had been personally trained by George himself. He didn’t see the need to put civilians at risk, doing supply runs, when he could prepare a few trusted associates to do it.

Due to this, George was very tentative about who was around when he opened the reinforced gates. He didn’t like anyone that wasn’t at least somewhat trained in defense to be around, should a raider or an infected manage to get past the defensive line set up outside the gates. He made sure that civilians were safe at all times─it was his biggest rule. The only one he had that had a no tolerance for being broken.

Except… there were a handful of exceptions.

He’s surprised, really when he’s ambushed by his lover─it was weird, to think in a world where people were cannibalizing each other, that he had found romance─attacking him with a suffocating hug. See, George had a special rule about members of the Field Team. He wasn’t a naive man─he was very well acquainted with the dangers of what went on outside those walls. When they went out on supply runs, there was a good chance that either a raider or an infected could take their lives. And despite his team being a bunch of very well-trained professionals, they had hearts. They’d had families, and romances long before the outbreak. And this family cared greatly for them.

Washington never wanted to have the opportunity to say he’d denied someone of seeing their loved one just hours before said loved one had been killed.

So, he allowed certain amount of family members to be out when the gates opened. Of course, his partner─boyfriend just sounded so juvenile, and didn’t fit their preference anyways─took advantage of this established rule and was around him until just seconds before they pulled out of the compound to go on the run.

Arms encircling Gilbert’s frame, George allows the facade of the hardened military commando to fade away as he presses a kiss against their cheek. It feels nice, he must admit, to be loved. He’d spent so many years alone until the Outbreak. He’d let his military career and then later, his work in law, take over his life. Had never stopped and made any plans for a private life. But afterwards, when he’d been at Site Zero and had found the kid─terrified, shaking and locked in a medicine room─things had changed. Gil had been a resident studying to be a surgeon when Patient 04728 had managed to escape and infect many of the hospital’s patients, and had originally proven to be an asset to a group of people that hadn’t had a medic yet. But all that time spent in a truck alone with Gilbert until they found a place to settle permanently had sparked something in what George thought was a long defunct heart. He found it sad that it took the country he’d fought so hard for going to shit for him to stop and think of himself.

It had been four years since they’d met at the site of the outbreak, and Washington isn’t sure if he’d have made it through this long without them.

“I hate this time of week,” Gil whines, when they’ve released him from the hug. They’re a few feet shorter than him, and it’s cute how they stand on their tiptoes to keep their arms wrapped around his neck. “What are you guys going for again?”

“Food and munitions. James received intel about an abandoned armory a few cities over in an overrun city. Raiders and scavengers have made attempts before, but it’s surrounded by what was previously a military base. And you know what that means.”

Gilbert did. It meant that the Field Team would be greeted with not only a city full of infected, but a city within that city of infected. That was far too many zombies to possibly take on without the proper equipment. It could mean more weapons, which could also mean expanding how many people were on the Field Team, but it could also be certain death.

“I hate when you go on long runs.”

“It’ll just be a week and a half. Just hold out for a week and a half. While I’m out, I’ll see if I can find you a new color of ribbon,” George says, referring to the ribbon that Lafayette wore around their neck. It had started out as a joke─using one of the purple ribbons that Gil used to tie up their hair and tying it in a bow around their neck. Washington had said it made them look like a present, tied up just for him. After that, it had become a sort of tradition. If he found a new color ribbon that Laf didn’t yet have while they were scavenging stores or homes, he’d bring it home to them. And every morning, before Gil went to work in the infirmary and George went to work with his Field Team��whether that be training, working on a run, or gathering intel about what the compound needed and how they could acquire it─Washington would tie a ribbon around their neck.

They wore it pridefully, along with his old dog tags. A small, little luxury of a gift that George could give them in a world where they encouraged people not to keep more than they could carry should they have to evacuate the compound.

“I don’t have maroon yet,” Lafayette reminds him─though, they already know that George kept track of all the colors they did or didn’t have. Sometimes it seemed it was more important to him than it was to them. “or white. I think white would look nice with my work scrubs, don’t you?”

“Anything would look nice on you,” Washington mutters, trying to prevent his team─who were all chatting idly with their own loved ones while their truck was loaded up with food and supplies they’d need for the next week and a half─from hearing. The teasing that he’d receive if they did would be positively unbearable. “I’ll look for maroon, but I wanted to get you a gray to match your civilian clothes.”

“Speaking of civilians, do you want to offer any explanation on why you made Eliza Schuyler your Field Medic and not me?” they ask, arms crossing over their chest. He had known this was coming, as word would’ve travelled unbelievably fast. There was a small amount of medically trained people working in the infirmary, and when his Lieutenant had made it known they would need a medic onsite for long runs, he had a select few to choose from. Lafayette had been the closest to becoming an actual doctor before the outbreak─just been a few months from achieving his surgical degree. However, George knew that he couldn’t have Laf in the field.

Not only was it a conflict of interest─he knows himself, and knows that if it came between him saving the rest of his crew or him saving Lafayette, he would choose them time and time again─but he didn’t think he could stand them being in the field. Being in the line of danger at all times.

“It’s nothing personal, m’love,” he begins, but now Gil is crossing their arms and there’s an expectant look on their face. “I have to act in the best interest of the entire Team.”

“Then why didn't you pick me? I am the most qualified in this compound. You know that. Should anything happen out there, I’d rather my knowledge over hers.”

“To be fair, she was studying to be a doctor, too. She wasn’t yet a resident, but she was damn close. You can’t dismiss her qualifications, you can’t pretend she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” George says, using his ‘commander voice’. This calms Gil considerably, as they do look a little embarrassed to have been rude about Eliza’s competence. “Finally, Eliza has no relationship ties to anyone on the team. As of now. The second that a relationship between her and a member of the Field Team is confirmed, you know she’s off the team. I can’t put anyone on the Field Team that I may consider more favorable than the other members.”

“But, George─”

“Gil, please. I just want to protect you.” George gives them a withering look, not wanting to continue the conversation any further.

The words he spoke were true─it wasn't about competency or technicalities about playing favorites. He didn't know how to use his words to say it, and maybe he didn't want to admit it, but he didn't know what he'd do with himself should any harm come to his lover. They were the light at the end of tunnel, his reason to keep soldiering through every bleak day. The United States had been completely quarantined, for every person that he managed to save, five more died, and he was forced to willingly put himself in the line of danger nearly every day. Just to save people who were more than likely to be doomed anyways.

All of these things had taken quite the toll on him, but Lafayette… they taught him how to see the rainbow after a day of rain. They showed him that even though it felt like the world was over, they didn’t have to mope around about their predicaments. They painted pictures of evacuations and rescues sure to come, showed him that it was possible to laugh through the dark times.

He loved them. More than he would ever have the guts to admit aloud.

Seemingly sensing George’s disposition, Lafayette settles back on the heels─growing quiet, the argument squashed. Or at least, for now.

“This isn’t fair,” they whisper, hand coming up to gently brush against his cheek and pout forming on their lips. George brings his hand up to meet theirs, gripping it like it’s a lifeline. “I want to protect you, too.”

“You know how you can protect me? Stay here, where you can be safe.”

“Washington! Gates are opening, time to roll out!” Mulligan’s voice calls, interrupting their little moment. Though still despondent about not being on the Field Team, they seem to be cheered up a little. After rising to the tips of their toes to plant another sweet kiss on George’s lips, they gently remove the ribbon from around their neck and offer it up to him.

“For good luck. Come home to me alive, you understand? I’ll kill you if you die out there.” they say seriously, tying the ribbon around his wrist. George gives a bark of laughter, and though the phrase is funny, he knows there’s a serious connotation there. “I love you. Be safe.”

“I will. For you.”

[the13colonies]

My oddly specific judgment of you based on your Hamilton the Musical ships

Lams: basic. Favorite tropes are hurt/comfort, friends/best friends to lovers, or found family. Bonus points if it's all three

Hamburr: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers is something you adore. Toxicity is key. Things never have a happy ending and you find beauty in that

Jeffmads: also basic, but make it spicy. You like the kinky stuff. Also really upset that there aren't as many fics with this as the main ship; it's always a background thing

Jamilton: enemies to lovers who? You like the tension, the kinks, the anger, but passion is key with this ship. You're also stubborn

Whamilton: how's therapy going for that trauma you're projecting? Power dynamics, daddy issues, and unrequited love is something you've experienced. Bonus if it's all three. You just want stability

Hamliza: too pure for this world. Eliza tops and you know it. You also like hurt/comfort, less as an extension of your own trauma but more for the softness

Hamgelica: unrequited love is your favorite trope. You're also either a top or a switch

Washette: found family is something you've attached to and you cannot get out. Blurring the lines between platonic love/romantic love is also a daily occurrence in your life, and you like fluff more than the smut

Jeffburr: you either want Burr to be the main character and completely destroy Jefferson, or you want Jefferson to be dark and absolutely take control. Enemies to lovers, but less passion, more power play

[silverdragonoid]

This fic is so wonderful and precious as the shipping and as the writer themselves. Sweet fluff and bull-riding mixed with angst and insecurities. I love it so much and that AU is so cool pls gimme more

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014), American Revolution RPF Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/George Washington Characters: Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, George Washington, Hercules Mulligan, Adrienne de Lafayette, Special Guest: Mouse the bull Additional Tags: bull riding AU, Rodeo Competitions, Developing Relationship, First Meeting, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, vague descriptions of sex, Emotional, Learning Love and all its sacrifices pains and ups and downs, Injury, Cowboy Hats, there’s not a tag for bull riding but there’s a tag for cowboy hats, trust me - Freeform, 1960s/1970s Summary:

Lafayette knew exactly what he was doing out there like George knew Mouse’s great-grandfather and that the bull was getting absolutely furious every second Lafayette stayed on and didn’t move an inch towards his plummet. And that was when George fell hard for the charming Frenchman with a passion to win, no matter the cost.

*** Surprise! It’s a new fic that I definitely wasn’t supposed to write shhhh. Anyway, I had way too much fun with this so enjoy! It’s bull riding!!?

[jamalam]

19 with washette :0

19. Not knowing how to dance, but taking them by the hand and twirling anyway

Cheerful shouts and drinking songs echoed through the camp, accompanied by the flickering of a nearby bonfire as George and Lafayette sat in the general’s tent, a peaceful silence between them. After a few moments, George stood and extended his arm toward the Marquis.

“Might I have this dance?” He asked, a shy grin on his face, small crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he did so.

“Mon cher,” Lafayette replied curiously, raising an eyebrow as he gazed up at George. “I was under the impression that you are not a particularly gifted dancer.”

“I am not,” The general agreed, still smiling. “In fact I may step on your toes more than once if you choose to dance with me. But all the same, I would be delighted if you allowed me to waltz with you on this fine evening”

Lafayette chuckled softly and stood, intertwining his fingers with George’s and squeezing his hand tightly as they got into the proper dancing position. “For you? Anything.”

They shared a smile, the kind of smile one reserves for a sunrise over the crashing waves of the ocean, or a lover one must never speak of lest they be caught, or the victory of a war that had been fought for too long. And, to the tune of drunk soldiers singing, the danced the night away.

[topieliczka]

this is so cute omg ;^;

i just wanna read a book without hyperventilating but it seems it’s not happening

[daphneyoumustmakehaste]

Lafayette: I KNOW HOW TO SAVE THE POLAR BEARS!

George: *jerks awake* whAT?

Lafayette: Consider this. What if we took all the polar bears and then just MOVED them to the South Pole.

George: *rubbing his eyes* but what about the penguins?

Lafayette: .........And then we take all the penguins and move THEM to the North Pole!

George: I’m going back to bed.

[beanjuice-duh]

Naps of Monmouth

a/n: drabble stretch, get the writing juice going early.  summary: after the battle of Monmouth, George is eager to see one of his boys safe and sound w/c: 2448 warning: uneditted draft

The smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air around the blood stained fields of Monmouth. George watched as Molly feverishly carried around a cast iron water pitcher and ladle, waddling to the remaining soldiers who lived. Barely.

The battle was set to be doomed. George Washington had left General Charles Lee in charge of recapturing the New Jersey post. However, when Lee was faced with the British military waiting for them, the American’s roughly 1000 foot men versus the skilled British that ranged about 1400-1600 of them. He retreated. The hasty retreat not only costed them most of their footing but dozens of men, dying in the line of fire while Lee was the first to escape with his musket between his legs like a cowering dog. God had been gracious, Washington and his aides were nearby. Hamilton had received word Lee’s disastrous retreat was underway. In a fit of rage Washington bounded on horse back towards the field, commanding Hamilton to let Washington’s dear, French aide know that he was needed on the battlefield.

George had managed, his capable Generals managed to push the British back for another battle. The casualties mounted on both sides. If it wasn’t the bloodshed it was the heat, men dropping to the ground dead. In the midst of battle George emptied his mind. He ...loved the fight, he loved the sound of war ever since he was a child. Violence was all he understood, all he knew until he met the aftermath in there face. Then he learned to empty his anger on his enemies and leave it on the battlefield, dead along with them. Washington dragged his feet, reunited with a few of his Generals when Molly wondered over to him. “Thank you, Miss Molly” George brought the ladle to his lips and took three long gulps of water. The cool liquid barely made a dent in his dry throat, his body soaked in sweat but still for the moment the cold rush cleared his muddled mind. “Thank you for being here for our men, we truly are in your debts.”

“Anything for your men...I only wished God had been kinder on a day like today….the sun never beat down so hard...your men…” She turned and watched as the still able carted off their fallen comrades. Hamilton in the midst of the body count. He was never queasy around death. He knew him well, like an old friend. “Dyin’ in hell's heat like that…”

“Fight would have ended sooner if I had came sooner…” Washington closed his eyes, how could he let Lee take this command? He should have listened to Alexander. He should have known, Charles Lee was no general. He was a coward and had no place in his army. “Your a brave woman Molly. Your husband must be proud.”

“If my husband was out here...I’d want someone looking out for his soul too.” Molly pulled her iron pitcher back and began to turn to aid other soldiers when Washington stopped her short.

“By chance...have you see Major General Lafayette?” In a moment of clear mindedness George realized among his generals Lafayette had not been accounted for. He had seen the young, brilliant Frenchman on the back of his white stallion, bounding in westward on the field after Hamilton had sent for his assistance. After that...he was lost in the sea of redcoats and canon fire. The little woman shook her head, then apologized, leaving George so she may help other men. In that moment George felt unease. Had he… No, Gilbert was skilled, beyond his years. Same age as Alexander but twice the military experience. He loved his boy, Hamilton, like a son but he knew Hamilton never fought until now. Lafayette was different, he was bred for war. Looks had been deceiving to George, he remembered at first sight he saw a youthful, sweetened boy but when placed in the face of foes he was an Angel of death.

He wouldn’t have died by the hands of the British. But the Heat… It was over 100 degrees out, men were dying just from pure exhaustion from the fight and after. Their hearts giving out from hell they faced here on battle. Suddenly George was moving, his eyes scanning through his muddy, uniformed men, the ones who were living...and slowly looking down at the ones who were dead. His heart sank every time he approached a body. His face was unreadable, he used over forty years of habitual masking to keep himself from falling prey to emotional distress.

“Sir.” But there was one person who’s job was to read his mind. “Your Excellency” George cringed at formality from someone he regarded to be his son. “What troubles you sir? Have you drenched your throat yet? Molly has been passing around a pitcher of fresh water and…” He met Washington’s stern, tired, deep set eyes as he glossed over the bodies covered with tattered white sheets. “...over 90 now...only over sixty are from gunfire...almost two dozen from heat”

“I see.” Washington stood out, his poor men. How he wished he could have been here sooner…

“Shame that Lee isn’t among the first to have died, how I would have loved to toss a cloth over his face so he could finally do his hiding properly...six feet under.” Alexander gritted his teeth, even more livid that George by the complete hypocrisy that was the ‘leadership’ of General Lee. Washington’s face went red, not from the heat, that ungodly rage of his. Hamilton could almost see his hand twitch for his sword as if ready to put Lee down himself. But there was a hesitation, not his usual deep breath to steady himself. No, something in the forefront of his mind that brought him back. A worry. “Ah…” Alexander took a knowing step away from the General. “He’s not here, sir.”

“What.” George’s eyes slid to his young aide-de-camp.

“Surely, your Excellency.” Washington rolled his eyes, having half the mind to tune Hamilton out. “You did not put Marquis de Lafayette at the head of battle and think him to be naive enough to die out here? No, you surely would not have sent that young, doe eyed French nobleman to his untimely death.” Alexander smirked watching his General tense up. “Lafayette took his men to a nearby river to cool down, I heard he lost the least amount of men out there, I would search the banks, there is a chance they are still there.”

“I...see.” George felt little ease in speculation that Lafayette was alive. He had to see it for himself.

“I would have stayed by the lapping banks of the rivers too after a fight like this...I’ll man your post until you return with your beloved junior General.”

Beloved, no, Lafayette was not beloved. Beloved was a word reserved for the wives of men. For the women who the men dreamed to reunite with. George was well aware Hamilton had no problem expressing himself regardless the gender. He had his own hunches that Hamilton lived for his moments of peace so he could spend them with his beloved friend, Laurens. Only a few weeks of meeting and Hamilton didn’t dine if not by the fire with John at his side. Beloved, was for the faces they burned on the other side of their eyelids when they fell asleep. For George he reserved beloved for his sweet wife Martha who ran their plantation without complaint. For the country he wanted to free.

George could not risk finding these men beloved. Even the ones he regarded as son, war was a fickle thing. It did not allow men to choose who’d they lose and when. Regarding any man at war beloved was also accepting the pain and loss of the moment they die without a word. Without a whisper. As George mounted his horse he noticed more men were returning from the direction where the river laid. Their uniforms soaked with water. Surely if not for Lafayette’s direction they would have died in the heat, how lucky the Frenchman was. How quick he was to steer his men to a babbling, cool oasis.

His eyes squinted against the sun, that was still beating down on them, and the dust that lifted up from dozens of men running back to the main camps. Some half rejoicing to be alive, some mourning the loss of their friends, others tired of living. George paused and found what he was looking for. The body of the now drenched French General sprawled under a shade giving tree. George looked around and found they were alone now, the men had gotten their full of the river and heat and wished to return to the camps in hopes to find a spare cot to rest on. “General Lafayette.” Washington spoke, dismounting his horse. For a second he felt a worry strike him when he got no response. Lafayette was always prepared to show only the utmost respect towards him. Instead he stirred, he opened his eyes and smiled at George. Soon, all worries and formalities melted away. “See you’ve found time to rest, does war sooth your inner babe? Does it lull you to sleep?” Was the sound of war also a lullabye to the young European noble?

“Not precisely, mon General.” Lafayette beamed, though he was already much more fluent in English than he had been he retained some of it, as a sort of ...way to show endearment. George found the French language sweet on the ears. It wasn’t as abrasive as English, it suited Lafayette so.  “The sounds of victory c’est sweet.”

“I would hardly call this a victory, young man.” George stood just out of reach of the shade, he wanted to feet the heat. It fueled his teeth grinding anger. “If I hadn’t been so foolish, I should have never returned Lee to his post...I should have known his decline was a sign of pure cowardice.”

“You couldn’t have known, Alexandre couldn’t have known. You did what you thought was just...It is Lee who failed you. You did not fail us, you saved us. We snatched a stalemate in the jaws of defeat, we lost less than the English and pushed them out of this area for now, mon General, you did us right.” Lafayette spoke softly.

George’s face eased a bit, few had the ability to break through to George. Hamilton knew how to get under George’s skin and mind, Lafayette knew how to weasel into his heart. He slowly approached the young man, half his body bathed in shade, and sat beside him. He eyed him up and down, his uniform was damp, clinging to his body. Every curve and bump was outlined by the clinging fabric. Left so little to the imagination. “Your disrespect for your uniform calls for reprimanding. A General cannot be seen in such form. What will the others say?”

“They will say, ‘alas that ingenious Marquis took a dip in the river, saved his men from the murderous heat and still managed to look handsome while soaking’” Lafayette smiled coyly, he looked down at his bare shins and feet. “I do admit… I might have lost some garments in the process…”

The hot sun would surely burn Lafayette’s slender legs...George sighed, slowly he took off his jacket and draped it over Lafayette’s legs, shielding him from the deadly light. Gilbert looked up at the strong profile of his General. His General, the man who at first sight he felt an immediate warmth towards. His eyes never showing an ounce of emotion. He envied how close Alexander worked with Washington. How seamlessly the petit lion seemed to read George’s every thought… His favorite no doubt.

George must have felt Lafayette’s pained gaze on him, his eyes darted downward at Gilbert, arching a full brow at him. “Is there something on your mind, son?” Gilbert looked unusually pensive for someone who was just lazing about on the grass.

“I’m enjoying the view, if I die in the next second I want this to be the last thing I see…” He beamed though his general did not appreciate the talk of premature death. Gilbert laughed a bit, “to die on the same soil as my General. What an honor that would be.” He yawned closing his eyes, he didn’t have his fill of George’s face but he knew it was rude to oogle his superior. Lafayette stole glances to curb his desire to stare. He turned to his side, facing George, curling into the over sized jacket placed over him.

How strangely patriotic this young French man was. More so than most, Washington couldn’t count the among of treacherous American spies he had to look out for. The numerous men who were too cowardly to die for their country yet still joined the army in search of glory. The unrivaled bravery that came from a man who was willing to lay down his life for another country...for another man...George watched Lafayette’s face relax, his cheek nuzzled against the grass. He deserved every ounce of peace they could get from the stalemate. Slowly he bent his knee to push himself off when a hand gently reached out and stopped him. Lafayette’s fingers curled around the silk of his underblouse and tugged. “Yes?”

“Stay here.” He pleaded sleepily, his eyes were closed and unable to see the shocked face of Washington. “You should rest, your stress will send you back to the doctor’s quarters...sooner than Hamilton.”

George never found the need to rest. However, the grip of those fingers that moments ago tactfully pulled triggers and ended what could have been a massive loss...also played with a trigger in his heart.

Slowly the larger man lowered himself against the grass, using one arm behind his head as a pillow. He felt the breeze on his skin and months of endless worries and military planning weighed down his lids. He breathed feeling a hand fan out over his chest and a head full of hair press up against the side of his sweat drenched neck. Washington breathed, when would he find comfort like this? In the midst of war…

His free arm slithered around Lafayette’s body and forced him closer, until his side was lined with the front of the young French general’s person. His rested his large, commanding hand on the small of his back, fingers toying to go lower. A purr spilled from Lafayette’s dreamy lips then coiled them into a puckered smile. George fought himself between sleep and sin, battling himself as if the real revolution was in his hard set desires.

War was beautiful.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Then might I humbly submit: Lafayette initially greeting Washington with kisses and flustering him; fluff and/or humor ensues? (basically Washette, platonic or not, whichever you prefer)

I actually write reader inserts rather than character x character

[honeybeelilac]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler Characters: Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Philip Hamilton, James Madison, Aaron Burr, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Charles Lee, George Washington Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Gay Thomas Jefferson, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Dead Philip Hamilton, Dead Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Mentioned James Madison, Sad and Sweet, Jamilton - Freeform, Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Modern Era, Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt Thomas Jefferson, Anxiety Attacks, Separation Anxiety Summary:

Three years ago, Alexander Hamilton lost his wife and son to a car crash. Ever since, he has been at his worst. He's lonely, angry, and comes bearing a drinking problem. He has PTSD from his past, and is now left traumatised by the cruel event that took his family from him, too. Overall, he's a mess.

One year ago, Thomas Jefferson lost his best and longest friend, James, to suicide. He's left scarred and alone with abandonment issues. Thomas too, is a mess.

Thomas works at a bar that Alexander frequently visits, and upon several visits, he begins to notice that things aren't going well for the strange man. He approaches Alexander on his night off, and they spark an unexpected friendship that blossoms into more. Something really worth treasuring.

[coffee-planty]

So I had this idea…… How about Alex with dreadlocks?! @officialamoures