I gotta say I regret the ending of the last chapter bc that was j lazy and cheap writing but now i gotta run w it
here's 5200 words of pure fluff, have fun
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His forehead rested against mine as I stared back into his dark eyes, the flecks of gold in his irises no longer twinkling as I realized what we'd just done.
"Thomas? I--"
I instantly shoved his chest away, and his hands rested loosely on my waist as both our heads snapped to the voice in the doorway, our breathing heavy. My eyes widened.
"Merde, Lafayette--"
"Non! Non! Je suis vraiment désolé, mes amis, je savais pas que j'entrais dans quelque chose... de privé."
"Non-- Laf-- Wait!" I sputtered, pushing Thomas away and rushing toward the door, but at that point, he had already scrambled away up the staircase, and I couldn't blame him. I reached the doorway with pursed lips and ran my hand through my hair with a scowl as I turned around. "Why did you kiss me!?" I demanded with a panicked expression, and his eyes widened.
"You're kidding, right?! I--" He let out a dry huff, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why'd you kiss me back!?"
"That is not ze point! You kissed me first!"
"Well, you didn't exactly put up any resistance, darlin'!" He pursed his lips, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "I-- God, I kissed you 'cause I wanted to, alright? I don't regret it!"
"Well, I do!" I huffed.
"Yeah, and? That's not my fault! If you didn't want to kiss me, you shouldn't have kissed me," he said bitterly, and I pressed my lips into a thin line.
"God, you are such an asshole," I scowled, and his eyebrows shot up.
"I'm an asshole? Darlin', I'm not the one tellin' the guy I just kissed how much I hated kissin' him!" he exclaimed with a dry laugh, running his hands through his hair as he turned away. My eyes widened. I had been too caught up in my own mistake that I hadn't remembered I was speaking to an actual human with actual feelings. "Whatever, Y/N. Just, whatever."
"Thomas, I did not mean zat-"
"It's fine, Y/N! Enjoy your bitter, self-loathing regret." He smiled cynically at me, and I sighed.
"Come on."
"No, really! Please, continue on about what a mistake kissin' me was."
"Thomas, I am in love with Lafayette."
His eyebrows shot up.
"You-- With him--?" I nodded, a sad smile creeping onto my face, and his expression dropped. "Well see, that's a different story."
"Oui," I sighed, "Oui, it does change zis a little."
There were a few moments of silence, before he asked, "So why did you kiss me, then?"
I gave him a timid smile. "Warmth of ze time? Something like zat?"
He quirked up an eyebrow at me, an amused smile on his lips. "Heat of the moment?"
"Oui! Zat!" I exclaimed with a grin, pointing a finger at him, and he laughed. My grin fell to an apologetic smile. "Thomas, I am... sorry for ze outburst. It was uncalled for."
"You're damn right it was," he scoffed, and I deadpanned as I looked him in the eye, eliciting a teasing grin from him. "But it's okay, darlin'. Heat of the moment, right?"
"Oui. Heat of ze moment." I pulled out a chair at his table, sitting down with a heavy exhale as I rested my chin on my hands. Thomas took it as an invitation to take a seat across from me. He sat backward on it, legs hitched around the back of the chair, arms rested across the top, and looked me in the eye. I raised an eyebrow.
"So, you're into Lafayette, huh?" His expression was teasing, but disappointment flickered in his eyes, so subtle that I could've imagined it. I scoffed.
"Oh, shut up, Jefferson."
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"What are you doing?" I walked into Lafayette frantically shoving various articles of clothing into something not much bigger than a knapsack, which seemed to be bulging out at the seams where it sat on the bed we'd been sharing. My brow knitted as he snapped his gaze up to meet my eyes, and he wore an entirely neutral expression.
"Packing," he answered, not waiting for more than a moment before putting his head back down to try to shove a deep blue piece of... something further down into the bag before trying to yank the flap of the bag down over all of it.
"You are packing? Quelle? Pourquoi?" I asked my eyes widening as I stood frozen to my spot, and when he ignored me, just yanking harder on the flap, I lurched toward him across the room, concerned and confused as I leaned on the bed across from him.
"Stop, listen to me." Again, nothing, so I took his hands in mine, yanking them off the coarse leather. His expression read annoyance and alarm for a moment, and he opened his mouth to speak just as I laced my fingers into his. The hardness of his features melted away, if only for a moment, as he met my eyes.
"Lafayette, why are you packing?" I asked softly. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard before his expression again turned to stone.
"I need to get back to camp, Y/N. I 'ave a meeting soon, and I cannot afford to miss it. I do not expect you to understand," he said, a hard edge to his voice as he dropped my hands, turning away once more. "I cannot expect ze war to be your priority when you 'ave time to be fooling around with whoever crosses your path."
My jaw dropped. "Wait, seriously? That's what this is about?"
He went back to stretching the flap over the enormous opening of his bag, finally picking it up when he managed to get the button through the loop. It looked extremely precarious, but he didn't seem to care as he slung it onto his shoulder. "Zis is not about anything. I simply need to leave."
I scoffed, following him as he made a beeline for the door. "Please. If this was not about zat, you would not be being such an asshole about it."
"It was simply a fact," he said flatly.
"Oh? Zen did it really need to be said?" I slammed the door behind me as he strode down the hall with me almost jogging to keep up. Still, he all but ignored me following him.
"Someone 'ad to say it. I was only trying to get your priorities in order." I narrowed my eyes.
"Bullshit. You should know better zan anyone else zat if you want me to do something, calling me a whore is ze last way to make me do it," I seethed. He took a deep breath as we began the descent down the stairs, and I saw him set clench his jaw, even beginning to ball his fists despite his best efforts to ignore me. "So if that is not what it is about, what is it? Hm? Are you jealous?"
His movements stalled; his foot pausing as it hovered above a step. I swore I heard him swallow hard, but he picked back up his walk down the stairs as though it'd never stopped.
"Of course not," he seethed, though it didn't escape me that his voice was near an octave higher than it should've been. "Zat is ridiculous."
His words said one thing, but everything else screamed exactly the opposite, and I scoffed, as indignant as I was shocked. "Oh my god, you are jealous. And you are storming out because of it?"
We had reached the ground floor at that point, and Lafayette began to make a beeline for the door.
"I am not jealous--"
"Oh, s'il vous plaît. This is far too sudden and you are far too angry for zis to be random," I scoffed as we reached the door, "It meant nothing! It was just a kiss! You need to--"
"Do not tell me what I need to do!" He finally turned to look at me as he cut me off, standing just on front of the door. A fire was ablaze in his eyes, but just behind it, there flickered traces of something colder--hurt. "Y/N, I care about you. I want ze best for you. Thomas is not zat. So you will 'ave to excuse me for being less than thrilled to see you on a path destined to fail."
My dry laugh was little more than a breath as I set my jaw in frustration, shaking my head. I held his gaze for a moment, saying nothing, and finally said softly, "You have no idea what's best for me."
I was a bit surprised that his glare wasn't actually burning a hole into me after that, as his eyes narrowed and he drew in a shaky breath. "Clearly, I 'ave more of an idea zan you."
With that, he turned away, grabbing the handle of the door in front of him, and dramatically swinging it open to exit, only to be forced to stop entirely.
He'd come face to face with a wall of white, rising to only inches below the doorframe, the carved wood of the door imprinted into the snow before us. There was no getting in, there was no getting out. We were snowed in.
After all that, we were snowed in.
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Immediately after the events of the morning, Lafayette and I began avoiding each other indefinitely, and I began to wonder whether it would be until the snow melted and we could finally leave.
It must have been evening when I was perched in an armchair in Thomas' living room, legs over one arm and sketchbook in hand, drawing the best picture I could of my grandmother from memory. A fire crackled just feet to my left in an impressive crown-molded fireplace, warming my toes despite the cold that still occupied my head. The high ceiling made the space feel open, roomy, but in my case, it just felt more lonely. I drank in my grandmother's features, wrinkled but bright under the flickering light from the fire, but was yanked from my distracted euphoria by yelps above me.
My initial reaction was one of annoyance, and yet, knowing who all was in the house, it quickly morphed into concern. Thomas was in his study a few rooms over, too immersed in work to notice anything, so that ruled him out, leaving me with one option.
My urge was to go see what was the matter and help, but all my instincts were laced with hesitation. I didn't know whether the hesitation was from enjoying my current pastime or from not knowing where I momentarily stood with Lafayette, but it didn't matter. With a sigh as I closed my book, I hoisted myself out of my chair and left the notebook on the coffee table in front of me. Anxiety crept through my system as I climbed the stairs, but it didn't slow me down as I reached the guest room.
There sat Lafayette on one side of the bed, facing away from the doorway as he peeled a bandage off his left arm. I could see how tense his muscles were in his bare back, and hear the strain in his breathing. Blood glistened in the white light, beads of it forming as he parted the gauze from the dried blood and opened the wound. Another grunt of pain, and I sharply exhaled. He wasn't exactly handling things.
"Lafayette," I breathed in surprise, unable and unwilling to stop myself as I rushed into the room, and he craned his neck to look over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Mon Dieu, why-- what are you doing? You should not be doing this yourself."
"Y/N? What are you doing?" He froze as I knelt on the mattress next to him, swatting his hands away from the gash still down his arm. He only regained control of his body as I wiped away a drop of blood with my thumb, taking his arm into my hands. He quickly yanked it out of my grip. "I am fine. I can 'andle this."
I looked up to meet his gaze and saw nothing but annoyance, though I met his glare with one of my own. "No, the fuck you cannot. You are clearly 'urt. Do not try to fix it yourself. You are not steady; you will make it worse."
Some of the fire died behind his eyes, but he continued holding my gaze as I raised my eyebrows, but finally, he dropped his head with a scoff, turning to face in front of him. I hummed my reluctant thanks as I again held his elbow, easing the gauze off his shoulder. I swallowed roughly as he hissed in pain, scrunching his face together.
"'Ow did this 'appen, anyway?" I asked softly, despite being fully aware of the answer. I could feel his shudder course through his body as he shut his eyes tightly, and could still feel the echo of it when he finally opened them.
"I was shot," he sighed, looking dejected even at the memory of it. His gaze was cast downward; his shoulders slumped despite how tense I could feel the muscles were as I continued easing off the bandage. "An ambush by redcoats as I was riding up north."
"You are lucky to be alive," I said softly, and he nodded, the corners of his lips quirking up into a small smile.
"Trust me, you do not 'ave to tell me zat," he chuckled, and I cocked an eyebrow.
"Care to let me know why the mention of your almost dying makes you smile?" He ducked his head slightly, likely to hide his smile as he brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"I was saved by a friend," he murmured, "It... was 'ell, but well, it is over, and something is slightly different."
"Oh really?" I asked, my voice entirely teasing, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oui," he sighed.
"And who exactly 'appened to save you?" I asked, teasing heavy in my voice and etched into my expression.
"Somehow, I 'ave a feeling you know." He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as he turned his head to look at me, but his laugh was hardly below the surface as his eyes gleamed with fondness. Yet, I couldn't tell which of me the fondness was for. I laughed, ducking my head, unable to hold his profound gaze for any longer, running a hand through my loose hair.
"So, what, do you 'ave a crush on zis Levi King?" I raised my eyebrows with a small, knowing smile as he looked away, dropping his gaze to hide his smile.
"I would not call it a crush," he sighed, "He is just different, you know? He's so strong and intelligent and incredible. 'e is incredible, Y/N."
"I know what you mean," I murmured. In that moment, he reminded me of myself when I first found myself falling for him. Pure adoration shone in his eyes and his soft smile, and I bit my lip, dropping my gaze to my lap.
My eyes widened as I realized I had entirely stopped rebandaging his wound--my only reason for being in there at all--and took a deep breath before starting again. I peeled off what had turned out to be the last bandage, and found myself wincing slightly at the somewhat dirty gash below it.
"Laf, do you know where I could find water and a rag?" I asked, and his eyebrows shot up.
"Oh! Oui! Thomas 'ad someone leave zat outside my door yesterday morning for if I needed to clean myself," he explained, "It should be right in ze hallway."
I hummed in acknowledgment, standing up from where I sat behind him on the bed, fetching the rag and bucket from the hall before returning to work. I set the bucket beside him and drenched the rag before wringing it out slightly.
I hesitated, before telling him, "You may want something to bite down on. Zis can 'urt."
He set his jaw, and though the movement was slight, I noticed him squaring his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. "No, I am okay. It will be fine."
I furrowed my brow. "'ey, look at me." He turned his head slightly, on eyebrow raised, his skeptical gaze meeting mine. "You know you do not 'ave to be a soldier all ze time, right? You're allowed to be in pain once in a while. You do not always 'ave to be strong."
"Non.. non," he said dismissively with a huff, "I am fine, Y/N. I will be fine."
A breath escaped my lips, something mingled between an exasperated laugh and a sigh. "C'mon, Laf. Can you at least try to make this hurt a little less? For me?"
He turned his head, looking me in the eye with his weary expression and downturned lips, but something akin to fear flickered in his eyes, and I found myself unable to look away. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I processed hearing myself swallow hard, but in that moment, I couldn't focus on anything aside from what was right in front of me.
Lafayette hadn't shaved in what looked like forever; poorly groomed scruff crept up his cheeks and down his neck, growing patchy at the edges. His long eyelashes fluttered with each breath he took, and I couldn't tell whether he knew it was happening. His dark brow hung above his eyes as though carrying the weight of everything in his life, as though carrying the pain of his injury, creased and darker than I remembered it. The bags under his eyes grew with each passing day, and my god, had he always had the microscopic scar on the bridge of his nose, just above his eye line?
And of course, then my eyes fell, just in the least, back to his eyes, where I knew they'd end up. I wasn't sure I was even breathing as he stared intently into my eyes, and had I not been as frozen as I was, I would've looked away. A certain sadness settled in his gaze, a sadness nothing about the rest of his expression conveyed. He looked displeased in any but the same way as the quiet fear danced in his eyes. The fear about the pain, sure, but perhaps not for his own pain.
Finally, his gaze dropped.
"Alright. Find... some cloth, or something for me to bite down on," he said, his voice nearly as soft as a whisper. The smallest of smiles graced my lips as I rested my hand on his.
"Thank you," I whispered. As I stood up, my steps were shaky, and I found myself fixated on what had just occurred. Fleeting thoughts raced through my mind, but ultimately, every one was about him. I opened the top drawer of the dresser in the room with quivering hands, and withdrew what appeared to be one of my undershirts.
I handed it to him with a small smile as I turned around, that time unable to meet his eyes as I took a seat next to him. My eyes settled on the wound in his shoulder, and I just sat there for a moment, making sure I could do this.
"Ready?" I asked softly. His hum of agreement was muffled through the shirt, and I drew in a shuddering breath.
I picked up the damp rag from the bed, resting one hand on the center of his chest to steady both myself and him as I slowly, softly, but surely began to dap and scrape at what looked like dirt caked on blood clots. His face was perpetually screwed up into a grimace, and I at multiple moments found myself having to pause and take a deep breath before I could continue. His good hand quickly found the hand I had on his chest, the pads of my fingers pressing bruises into his skin, and he laced his fingers into mine, though he didn't ease it away from his body.
It was an unfortunate number more than a single time when muffled grunts and wails of pain came from his mouth, and by the time I finished, he was almost crying through the shirt. Finally, wincing, I wiped away the last bit of dirt from the gash, and finally, I pressed the rag to the area in an attempt to slow the blood flow as I picked up fresh gauze. He had his eyes shut tightly as I glanced up at his face. I sighed before dropping the rag back into the bucket, immediately moving the gauze to begin wrapping around the top of his arm.
"Is this okay?" I whispered, looking into his eyes as I tugged on the first layer of gauze I'd wrapped around, testing whether it'd stay, and he nodded. I continued in silence, bandaging the area and tucking one end of the gauze in, pulling it through as I finished. I ran a gentle hand over it, watching his expression to gauge whether it was done, and all I received was his breathing beginning to even out. I sighed.
His other hand found the hand I'd been using to wrap his wound, taking that one in his as well, bringing it to his chest with the other. We sat like that in silence for a moment, me subconsciously syncing my breathing to his, and eventually, I met his gaze.
He mumbled something through the shirt still in his mouth, and I nearly laughed despite my tearful eyes, and a smile broke through his somber expression. He dropped my hands, instead opting to take the somewhat spit-soaked shirt out of his mouth, and he discarded it into the bucket with the rag before turning back to me with a soft expression.
"Merci," he sighed, and I smiled.
"Of course."
So little was said, and so much didn't need to be as I bit my lip, rolling it between my teeth and watching his eyes crinkle at the corners.
"Where did you learn to dress a wound like zat?" he asked softly, and I shrugged.
"Ma mémé was a nurse in ze war for Polish secession. She taught me everything she knew," I chuckled lightly. "I can also amputate a limb, remove a bullet, pull a tooth, and cure over twenty minor illnesses."
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. It was then that I became acutely aware of my surroundings, seeming to flash back into harsh focus. I could hear the low roar of the wind as it beat against the windows and the walls; I could feel the sharp chill as the the biting air seeped through the poorly insulated walls. Above all though, I could hear Thomas, perhaps several rooms over, practicing his violin. A small smile grew on my face. Lafayette's grin only grew, and he cocked an eyebrow at me. He put his hand out, offering it to me, and I knit my brow in confusion.
"Dance with me," he said simply, and my expression broke into a smile to match his.
"I 'ave to warn you, I 'ave never been much for dancing," I said quietly, and he shrugged.
"Zat is entirely perfect, as neither 'ave I." I couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped my lips at that. He raised both his eyebrows, waiting for an answer, and I gladly took his hand. We stood together, and he wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me in toward him as I rested a hand behind his neck. I laid my head on his (incredibly bare) chest, smiling as he only held me tighter. Slowly, we fell into step with the music together, doing our best not to step on each other's feet (and failing more often than I'd care to admit).
"Thank you," I murmured. He chuckled.
"For what, amour?" he asked, and I shrugged weakly.
"I... do not know, honestly." I let out a weak laugh of my own at this. "Just... being here, I guess. I 'ave missed you."
"What, 'as being surrounded by death and fighting not been enough for you? Not been properly entertaining?" he asked, his tone oozing with sarcasm, and I sighed, glancing up to see his raised eyebrow and small smile.
"I suppose I cannot exactly say it is paradise." He nodded, a bitter smile gracing his lips, and I sighed. "I just feel like I 'ave lost myself, you know? War makes me forget who I am."
He let out what could only be described as an angry laugh at this, and I looked up at him with a tightly knit brow, taking a step back so I could lift my head from his chest. "I know precisely what you mean, chérie. I 'ave spent the past few months questioning the few things I thought I knew about myself all my life."
Finally he looked down, catching my gaze, and I sighed. "I think for me, being away 'as been the only thing that 'as 'elped. I feel a bit more like Y/N Legrand again."
He gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I wish I could say the same, but 'onestly, I feel more confused now zan ever."
"Laf, you don't 'ave to be anyone right now. Not for me. Not 'ere. You know zat, right?" This was when he broke my gaze, his lips pressing into a thin line as he suddenly seemed incredibly interested in something behind me. "'Ey. You do not 'ave to be a brave soldier or a strong major-general right now. You do not 'ave to think about who you are. You can just be."
"I wish it were zat easy."
"Why can it not be?"
When he looked back down, mourning was etched into every line in his expression. "Because if I stop thinking about it, if I just let it be, I am not ze only one I am failing."
There was a skip. I swallowed hard.
"I don't suppose you can explain to me what you mean by zat?" I asked softly. He smiled sadly.
"I can assure you, you will know eventually, but I can also assure you zat now is not ze time." I could only nod, my gaze the one dropping this time. "But amour," --his hand left my waist, his fingers instead ghosting along my jawline, gently tilting my head up to look at him-- "please do not sacrifice yourself for the sake of being a soldier. It may feel like what you should do, it may seem like everyone around you wants you to do just that, but please, do not."
His fingertips grazed the crown of my head as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "You are worth far too much to become just another person losing themself in the revolution."
"And what makes you say that?" I asked, my expression deadpan but my tone bitter, and he smiled.
"Because I know you." I raised my eyebrows. "The revolution may need you, but you do not need it. You were someone incredible before it; I daresay you will be someone even more incredible after it."
I sighed, but couldn't break his gaze, not with the way he was staring at me so intently, as though he understood me better than I understood myself.
"I do not know if zat is possible, not when every day it become 'arder to figure out where I end and ze war begins."
"When ze dust settles, you will know, amour. I know you will." I swallowed hard, finally bringing myself to break his gaze, and again resting my head against his chest.
"Oui, well, ze same goes for you, amour."
Zat time it was him who pulled back, an expression painted across his face that was surprised, but pleasantly so.
"'Amour'?" he repeated quizzically. I shrugged.
"You seem to like it; I thought I would try it out." He didn't drop it though, his expression now amused, eyes twinkling under raised eyebrows. "What, would you prefer 'frenchie'?"
He laughed at that, again pulling me close. "Amour is just fine." I hummed in agreement just as Thomas hit a particularly high note on his violin. "I would spin you, but I do not think it is as best idea, considering our shared level of talent dancing," he murmured into my ear, dropping his head just a bit. I smiled.
"Do not worry; one of us would trip and I am guessing it would not be you." I could feel his light chuckle in his chest. "Regardless, I am perfect 'appy how we are."
The two of us just stayed like that for a moment, feeling each others heartbeats, breathing in all of the other that we could, and swaying steadily to the music, not concerned about whether we were on beat.
"Laf?" I eventually asked.
"What happened to amour?" he asked, his voice teasingly indignant.
"Amour?" I rephrased, my tone exaggeratedly sappy as I looked up at him with an mock pout. He grinned.
"Oui?"
My pout softened into a smile as I looked into his eyes. "I just want to make sure zat, even if I cannot 'elp you through anything right now, at ze end of it, I will be there. Toujours."
I was afraid to even try to name the look in his eyes as his expression matched mine. "I can assure you zat you will be ze first person I write to ze moment ze war ends."
I raised an eyebrow. "Promise?"
His smile widened. "Toujours, mon amour."
That was the moment Thomas played the last note in his song. A long, drawn out note just above the previous one finished his almost hopeful melody, and I sighed, forcing myself to break Lafayette's gaze.
"Well, thank you for the dance, Lafayette."
"We should do it again sometime." He shot me a wink as he gently let go of my hand, though his other didn't yet leave my waist.
"Hmm, I am not so sure. I may just 'ave to find a more competent partner ze next time around," I teased, and he scoffed.
"What 'appened to 'I will always be zere for you, Lafayette!'?" he mocked me, his voice raising at least an octave. I lightly shoved his chest, trying to pull away, which prompted him to hold me more tightly against him, both his hands now lying at my waist.
"I think zis is a special case, connard," I mumbled into the warm (incredibly toned) skin of his bare chest, and he chuckled.
"Too bad; you are now stuck with me."
I huffed. "What 'ave I done?"
"Made ze best decision of your life, obviously," he snickered, "On ze bright side, you know zat when you need me, you will always 'ave me."
I raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. "Always?"
His hand again found my jaw, and his smile melted away into his thoughtful gaze. His lips pressed lightly against my forehead, my heart skipping a beat and my stomach fluttering, and he pulled he into him, a complete embrace, his chin resting on my head, my head against his chest, my arms around his neck and his tightly around my waist.
"Toujours, mon amour," he said, the words hardly a breath as they left his lips. "Toujours."
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i hate this chapter so much?!?!?!?#?#-?!.$?.#.-!? and i hate myself for writing it sorry