(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

malapertqueen asked
I just want more greenhouses!Lafayette in my life please.

Washington was evidently exhausted by the time he made his way through the entrance of the manor door and dumped himself inelegantly into the first chair in the foyer, which Lafayette had procured, and made sure was extra comfortable, for just this occasion. (It had the side benefit of impressing guests, which he did not deny was useful.) Lafayette had drank a cup of coffee late to prepare for just this event, which was his lord appearing, head lolling between his broad shoulders, in the dead of night.

“Lord Jefferson’s events satisfying as always, I presume,” he said, with a little grin, and he pulled over a chair and covered his leg with a rag, then took Washington’s boot into his lap and began to work it off his foot.

“Wine,” Washington murmured, “What sort of man will only serve wine? Even if you think wine is vastly preferable to any other spirit. To at least respect your guests by serving something else.”

Lafayette slid the boot off and took Washington’s other foot in his lap and resumed work on the other boot. There was a little streak in the shine, which he frowned at, and made a note in his head.

“He has never seemed a man that believes he should bend to the considerations of others, sir,” he said. In truth, Lafayette did not mind Jefferson too much. He was agreeable, if moderately distasteful. Charming, if nothing else. But he was Washington’s enemy, which made him Lafayette’s enemy. Additionally, Jefferson seemed to like him, perhaps due to his exotic heritage. Perhaps he knew, although he never implied he did.

“No, I suppose he does not,” Washington muttered, his resentment uncharacteristically exposed. “When I have him here, I have at least three wines, plus brandy, cognac, gin, whiskey, scotch, bourbon and rye. And something experimental, if it can be found. And tea, beer, and coffee. But at Jefferson’s? Wine.”

“You cannot expect another lord or lady to be a host of your caliber,” Lafayette said. “Stand, if you will.”

Slowly, as if his joints creaked, Washington pushed himself up from his chair and stood. Lafayette slid the jacket off him and hung it on the nearby coathook; it could be settled back into his closet later. In truth, a tired Washington was one less likely to complain about being fussed over. It was not all so terrible. Lafayette’s fingers worked over the buttons of the waistcoast, and that too went on the coathook. That Washington had not complained once indicated his exhaustion.

“Come, sir,” he said, and he pulled Washington’s arm around his shoulders and let the man’s weight rest on him as they walked through the manor and up the steps.

“He asked about you,” Washington said, as Lafayette set him into his bed, sliding the undershirt out of his breeches and off him, and then instead replacing it with a nightshirt.

“He does, sometimes.”

“Do you think he…..”

“He has never given me that impression.”

There was a pause. Lafayette used the pause to give the room, lit only by a few candles and a bright moon, a one-over. Everything in it’s place, as they both preferred it. But he could tell that Washington had something else to say, that he was denying; usually, all Lafayette had to do was wait him out.

“He suggested that you –” There was the sound of Washington settling himself into his bed, and the sound of the man pulling off his breeches.

“That I what?” Lafayette frowned, and he pulled Washington’s chair over to sit next to where his lord had settled himself in his bed. If Washington did not even bother with his evening ablutions, he must have been even more tired than he suspected.

“That you might be more interested in his estate.”

At this Lafayette was quite glad that the semidarkness of the room would have disguised the split-second rage that slid across his face, for a moment. It settled only in his eyes, which gleamed in the darkness. Even so, he was sure Washington could sense it.

“No,” Lafayette replied, and he tucked the blankets close to Washington, and settled his pillow under his head, “I can say with all confidence that I would not be, and His Excellency should under no circumstances have a single concern I shall take a position elsewhere.”

Washington shifted again in his bed, to look up at Lafayette where he sat next to him. “I do not deserve you, my friend,” he said.

“On the contrary, I feel as if I could never repay the great debts I owe you,” Lafayette replied, and he bent his head to blow the candle out. “However, one must consider - if you do not deserve me, then I can say with complete certainty that Lord Jefferson definitely does not.”

Washington made a soft snort of laughter. “Good night,” he said, and rolled over.

“Good night, sir,” Lafayette said, grinning at the back of his lord’s head with affection.