Requiem for one George Washington.

Chapter Six: A Winter's Ball... and One Fuckton Of A Hangover.

King scooped up George, bridal style and carried him to the porch, sitting him down on a bench, he kneeled in front of him, not giving a fuck about his knees now, he repeatedly tapped George's face, shaking his head a bit.

"George, please, come on, you have to tell me what's wrong."

King got more worried, the more seconds that passed the more he was nearing the option of getting a medic. George let out a soft gasp, he looked around frantically, grabbing onto King's arms.

"Hey, hey...! It's okay, you're okay." King responded, letting George hold on to him.

"What happened?"

"You froze right in the middle of the ballroom, you scared the shit out of everyone there!" King was almost genuinely upset. He let George slowly unattach from his arms and shoulders.

"O-Oh. I just. Well it's part of my trauma from the war. I don't know why it happens... it just happens." He huffs.

"How about we just get super drunk, and forget this happened?" King chuckled.

George smiled and nodded, taking his hand and stood.

"I'd like that..." George said, walking back into the ballroom with King.

After many rounds of wine and whiskey. They could barely see straight (gay.). They were incredibly giggly. King especially. George was one of those quiet drunks.

Two guards looked at each other then smiled, going up behind the two and pushing them out of the ballroom.

King and George barely know what's going on. So they literally just sat on the floor talking about nonsense they both knew they weren't going to remember in the morning.

"Y'know you're pretty handsome Mr. Washington~" King chirped up, very slurred.

"Pfft. I look like a used up rag compared to you." George responded.

"Besides, I'm not even technically male."

'STOP TALKING GEORGE YOU'RE GOING TO END UP DOING SOME STUPID SHIT.' The voice in his head yelled, however the intoxication was not listening to him.

"What do you mean?" King said, taking another swig of the bottle of whiskey they smuggled out of the ballroom.

"Come with me." George insisted.

'GEORGE IF HE ENDS UP IN YOUR PANTS MARTHA'S GONNA KILL YOU.' which was ironic considering the voice in his head sounded like Martha, which was intensely and scarily foreboding.

Everything went blurry from there of course.

Bandages.

Bruises.

Orgasm? (Question mark intended.)

-the next morning.-

George woke up, with one hell of a hangover and one arm around him. George squinted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Did I really have a fucking one night stand with a goddamn guard?' He thought, turning back,

'Please god tell me I didn't actually sleep with them.' he hoped, before he did anything he quickly looked under the blanket. Bandages still on, and fully clothed. THANK GOD.

'Dipshit.'

The other person shifted, groaning groggily, unknown what happened.

"Bloody fucking hell my head hurts..." they said, turning around to see George.

They both froze, George stared at King and King stared back at George. They stare at each other, fear and confusion and slight frustration.

"E-Erm—Well g-good morning?"

"M-Morning."

They both noticed the dried white substance on their faces, they're faces immediately got red.

"E-ERM." George sputtered

"EH. Bye!"

"Bye!"

And with that King instantly got up and left the room, quickly, and flustered, swearing to himself repeatedly. George huffed. He definitely knew he was probably going to have to tell Martha about this, thinking about her reaction, probably like a motherly reaction of 'GEORGE WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!' George rolled his eyes at his own thoughts.

Meanwhile King stared into his mirror.

"KINGSTON WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!" he yelled at his reflection.

The guards and maids looked at each other awkwardly, they were going to try and help but pushing it seemed EXTREMELY risky, so they just stayed in their places as King got mad at himself and was currently breaking down.

"My lord...?" A guard piped up, gently.

"Yes?" He said, clearly tense.

"George is here to see you." he murmured.

King nearly choked. Of course the man he hopefully allegedly had intercourse with is asking to see him. King stepped out of the bathroom and looked at George. He looked tired, and frankly upset, though it could be the hangover. And the realization he very drunkenly fornicated with a royal. Considering they both barely spent anytime with each other.

"Can we please talk, please?"

"I'd insist on it in fact! Either I had saliva on my face or that's YOUR dried ejactulate."

"It's most likely eja-"

"I KNOW!" King snapped, stamping his foot like a desperate toddler who didn't get their way, which let out a small chuckle from George.

"Okay okay, do you remember anything else that happened after I led you into the bedroom?"

King thought for a moment

George and King laid on the bed. Both drinking too much whiskey an alcoholic would say that was overboard.

"More drinking...you showed me something personal...?"

"That's the part I want you to forget." George murmured, looking away.

"Not that I'm nitpicking but why?"

"It's... well, private." George mumbled, unsure how to phrase it.

King nodded, understanding; ish. He thought it'd be scars from the war which was completely fine. George nodded and turned to leave, not wanting to disturb him more. Until King grabbed his hand.

"Hey. I'm sorry. If I did anything bad and you remember it. please know I did not mean to. Especially if you couldn't give consent to it. We were both highly intoxicated and I can't bear the thought of doing something against another's will." King stated, not meeting eye contact, seemingly ashamed of himself.

George smiled softly at this. He didn't realize how much King really cared, especially when he was known as stoic and cold. Especially because of the letter summoning him in the first place.

"If said thing were to happen, and you did not do something you did not mean to, how could you apologize for something you allegedly did not do?" George chuckled.

"I suppose that is true." King smiled back at him.

King and George shared a look, which they quickly snapped out of. George let out a soft squeak then left. King's face flushed softly, now hoping they were on good terms. Most likely. George sat on his bed, smiling at the thought of him and King now on good terms. Now more... good acquaintances than just strangers in the same housing. Even though technically they still are.