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butterflies and coffee dates

Chapter Text

It all started when he walked into class and looked up at the front of the room. Thank god it was a lecture and Mr. Washington didn't notice how the boy all the way in the back stared. Mr. Washington was tall, muscular, and generally hot.

Gilbert de Lafayette- Laf for short- loved the class. American History was his favorite thing, besides the teacher for it. He studied all night to ace the tests in an effort to impress Mr. Washington, relying on coffee to keep him awake the next day.

One day he is shaken awake after class, and when he looks up its directly into the face of Mr. Washington. “Gilbert? Are you alright? This is the second time this week you've fallen asleep in class.”

Washington is touching him, touching his shoulder, and looking at him, talking to him, and Gilbert's face is bright red as he packs his bag as quickly as possible and stands. “Yes- yes, sir, just haven't been sleeping much lately. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

Gilbert is mortified- how could he do that, fall asleep in Mr. Washington's class? He's going to think the boy doesn't care about it- or worse, is bored by it. He gets to sleep at midnight that night- class is at 8:30 and that should be enough sleep.

But the next day, he wakes up at 7 and rushes to finish his essay for stats before breakfast, and then gets to class at 7:45. He is about to leave when Mr. Washington shows up and unlocks the door. “Hello Gilbert. Did you get enough sleep last night?” And Mr. Washington looks so handsome half asleep, briefcase in one hand, coffee and breakfast sandwich in the other, that Gilbert just stares for a few seconds. “Well? You're here early.”

Gilbert's cheeks are heating up as he looks at his watch, a few seconds to compose himself before looking up at Mr. Washington. “I- uh. Yeah, I did. I guess I didn't check the time when I woke up, I- I'm usually rushing here and I thought-”

“Oh, don't fret about it. I wanted to talk to you about the last test anyway. Come on in.” With a smile that sends his thoughts into territory sealed with a gate and padlock, Mr Washington steps into the room, and Gilbert follows him to the front of the room.

Chapter Text


Its getting chilly now, and the weeks have flown by until December. Finals are approaching, which Gilbert is both dreading and looking forward to. Calc finals will suck, but thanks to the tutoring he got courtesy of his roomies he knows he'll at least pass. History, on the other hand, should be a blast. George- Gilbert is on first name terms with Mr. Washington now- told him the final will be an essay on the concept of freedom of speech and the first amendment.

The first day of December, Gilbert arrives at the classroom at the same time as George wearing a sweater decorated with snowpeople and cats. They don't speak until both are inside, but the second the door closes, Gilbert takes off, grinning ear to ear as he rambles.

“Since its December, I thought it was time to get in the Christmas spirit, so I dressed my cats up as elves- wanna see?” Dumping his bag off in the front row, he follows George to the front of the room and pulls out his phone. “This one is Le Puss, he's a black cat, just a month old, and this is Kotichek, she's a Russian blue, I've had her for almost a year now.” Scrolling through his pictures, Gilbert practically shines.

“Woah, son. Slow down, I need more than a second to see each picture.” Gilbert's face goes red and he relinquishes his phone to George, who chuckles before handing it back a minute later. “They're adorable.”

“I love them, and the best thing about them, they act like dogs. I swear I've heard Kotichek growl a few times. She likes going on walks too. And I find her chewing on my shoes..”

George wants to listen to Gilbert, but he knows theres 3 minutes before people start arriving and if anyone sees them... nobody has yet, thank god. Its not like they're even doing anything. Just talking. “Hey, I'd love to see them sometimes. Maybe bring them over to my office on one of those walks? Class is starting soon. You should sit.” Gilbert looks so disappointed, but he moves to his seat, doing something on his phone until Mr. Washington starts the lesson.


Gilbert is laying on the couch in his apartment, one cat on his lap and the other right above his head, when the door opens and John Laurens walks in. “Yo Laf, check this out.”

Nudging Kotichek off his lap, Gilbert sits up as John sits next to him, causing both cats to scatter. He has a box in his lap, and inside there seems to be a living mass of white fluff. One small head pops up and looks around and meows at Gilbert.

“We found them on the curb by the corner store, probably abandoned. If you don't want them-”

“Why wouldn't I? You've known me for years, you know I'll take them in.” He counts three, all white, still covered with a fine dusting of snow. “They must have been cold, poor things.” All girls- he should take them to the vet sometime, get them checked out. “You should name them.”

A draft of cold air goes through the room as Hercules Mulligan enters with an armful of bags. “Hey Laf, you should've come with us, there were free samples for this french dish, some sort of soup.”

“He has to watch his cats, don't you remember? They'll get lonely if he leaves.” John laughs, earning a light shove from Gilbert before standing and helping Hercules with the groceries. “We got eggnog, this year will be the best Christmas ever.”

“Stop talking about Christmas, John, its only the 4th. I swear, you're constantly celebrating something.” Shaking his head, Hercules puts the eggnog away. “You and Laf will be the death of me.”

“I think I have some good names- eggnog, mistletoe, snowflake.”

“Oh, come /on/-”

“That sounds perfect. Stop being a buzzkill, Hercules.” Taking the kittens out of the box, Gilbert hugs them to his chest. “I think I'll change my major to cat lady.”

Chapter Text

On the first day after break, Gilbert stops by Mr. Washington's office with a brown paper bag with a red bow stuck on it. He plops it down with a grin as Mr. Washington looks up, replying with a smile of his own.

“Gilbert! How was your break?” The boy seems to have acquired a black eye, but his cheer is no less infectious.

“It was awesome! I didn't book a flight home in time so I just spent it with my friends- they didn't go back home- and we had an awesome party. I meant to get you a present before break but-” Nervous, Gilbert pushed the bag towards Mr. Washington. “I guess this makes up for it.” Carefully, Mr. Washington opens the bag, pulling out the thermos inside- a plain white one, with “(G)WASH. ME” on it in black boxy lettering.

He is quiet for a few seconds- Gilbert gets nervous, does he not like it- before laughing and placing it next to the line of bobble heads on his desk. “Thank you, Gilbert. I love it. Why don't you come by later, we can talk after my office hours?”

“I- I would love that, I'll come by after class.” He wants to add 'I love you,' but he has to get to class, and someone might hear. “I'll- uh- see you then, I guess.” He thanks the lord many times over for the excuse to cover the blush on his cheeks with a scarf as he walks briskly through the falling snow.


Spanish class seems to take forever, and Gilbert keeps checking his watch. John Laurens even asks him is everything is ok- “What's with the rush, do you have a /date/? What's her name? Or his name, I don't judge,” and Gilbert finds himself with a bright red face again as he pulls his scarf up around his face, mumblings something about having to go.

The snow is falling harder now- weather reports estimate as much as 2 feet of snow. Classes could be canceled. When he steps into Mr. Washington's office and closes the door, he sits, he sighs in relief. “Thank /god/, I thought it would take forever to get here. Its a nightmare out there.”

“I'm glad you're safe, Gilbert. I think there are a few things we should talk about. You know what I mean.” The thermos now has coffee, apparently and Mr. Washington takes a sip of it before continuing. “Our relationship. I don't know exactly what you want out of it, but maybe we should discuss that. Clear things up.”

Gilbert is silent, nodding and looking down at his hands. “Are you in trouble? I didn't mean- I don't think anyone-”

“No, no. Nobody is in trouble. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. I like you, Gilbert. You're very bright. I think you like me too, is that true?” The boy doesn't talk, he just nods. “And if I was not in this position, I'm sure you would already have been more clear about your feelings- am I correct?” Another nod. “I think we can pursue this- but nobody can know.” Gilbert nods again, leaning forward slightly.

“Sir, I- uh, George, I mean- I do like you. A lot. And I am of legal age, here in America, so-” His face is red again as he trails off.

”I feel the same as you, then. Relax, Gilbert. And you don't have to call me 'sir'.” Mr. Washington stands and goes to the door and locks it before pulling up a chair directly in front of Gilbert.

“Yes, sir, sorry- I”

“Actually, I like that. You don't have to stop.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t too long before Gilbert was pressed against Mr. Washington’s chest in the chair at his teacher’s desk.  With his arms draped over the older man’s shoulders as he sat in his lap and with George’s hands on his waist, Gilbert couldn’t help but melt into the kiss.  George’s lips were softer than he would’ve thought, but by God, he wasn’t complaining.  Pulling away to take a deep, somewhat shaky breath, the boy lidded his eyes to send his teacher a glance.

… This was a bit embarrassing. And to think they were in George’s office, of all places--

An airy laugh, half at himself and half at the situation he was in, escaped his lips before he pressed himself close again and once more initiated the contact. Gilbert could easily tell that Mr. Washington had reciprocated, with his hands gripping his hips tighter, his thumbs rubbing against his skin under his clothes, and how he, too, tilted his head and pushed into the kiss. Gilbert’s breath caught in his throat and he tightened his arms around George’s neck.

It was overwhelming -- George’s lips, and his hands, and the way it felt to be pressed up so close to him … he could smell the cologne. Perhaps he could compliment the man on it later. For now, though, he focused on the sensations -- the feelings, the emotions, the touches, and more importantly, Mr. Washington himself.

As the student felt heat pooling rather quickly in his stomach and his groin, he began to pull away -- no, no, he wasn’t supposed to get aroused--. Nervousness pooling as well, he fully pulled away with a soft gasp and a rather unflattering blush covering his cheeks.

“Monsieur, je suis deso-- I-I mean, I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean t--” he began to sputter out in a hurried whisper, shifting uncomfortably on George’s lap until he was hushed with a kiss to the corner of the lips. Mr. Washington’s hand was straying to Gilbert’s thigh, and it made the Frenchman’s heart skip a bit. He could’ve sworn he felt the grip tighten at being called sir, as well...

“It’s fine. Please, stop worrying,” Mr. Washington reassured in a low, raspy whisper, the lust evident as he pressed another kiss to his lips, this one more gentle than the others -- it was astounding how well he could control himself in a situation like this one.

Even with multiple thoughts clouding his mind, Gilbert couldn’t take his mind off of the hand on his thigh, which was slowly inching upwards. Gilbert found himself curling his toes in response -- something subconscious, of course, and a groan began forming in his throat.

Gilbert nodded obediently; “Yessir.” Closing his eyes, he clenched his jaw as George squeezed his thigh, as if he knew that Gilbert was on the brink of making a sound. If he had sensitive areas, then that was certainly one…

“Stay quiet,” George reminded, allowing his hand to brush over Gilbert’s groin. He was pleased to take notice of the hitch in his student’s breath. He had to bite his lip to hold in the moan.


Just as quickly as they shared that first kiss, Gilbert found himself pressing his groin forward with a roll of the hips, pleased to hear a low groan from Mr. Washington, who was turned on just as much as Gilbert himself by this point. Huffing, they pressed their lips together with more ardor and desperateness.

George’s hands worked to undo Gilbert’s pants before he stopped, although a tad hesitantly. Looking to the boy, he licked and bit his lip. “...Is this alright?” he asked, wanting to make sure -- and it was only once he got a somewhat shy nod that he continued. Once Gilbert’s pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, George pressed his hand against his groin and began to gently massage the area. Biting his lip, Gilbert breathed out an airy whine as he bucked his hips forward into the touch. Was his teacher trying to be this much of a tease…? Maybe.

… His teacher. This was his teacher. He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t be doing this, but that was the least of his concerns as George began to push Gilbert’s underwear down, and neither could be surprised when he took in a quick gasp of breath.


Gilbert’s fingers desperately curled into Mr. Washington’s clothes as he tried his hardest to stay silent. Biting his lip and suppressing all the sounds of pleasures that he could, Gilbert rolled and pressed his hips up toward Mr. Washington as the man jerked his hand up and down around the boy’s cock. And as if that weren’t bad enough, his other hand was creeping up his shirt. He was nearly trembling under George’s touch. His breath was coming heavily. His hips were moving with rashness.

“Mr. Washington--” Lafayette breathed out shakily, burying his face against George’s neck. Maybe that would help to make sure that no one heard them. “Monsieur Washington, s’il vous plait--”

And of course, he couldn’t quite say no to that. Especially when his boy spoke French like that. He nodded gently, running his tongue over his lips. Gilbert could feel even more heat and arousal pooling, overwhelming his senses. All he knew was that now, the hand around his cock was moving more vigorously, his knowledge of the English language was quickly dissipating, he was with George, with Mr. Washington, with his teacher , for Christ’s sake, and he knew damn well how to get someone off.

It wasn’t much longer until the boy came, releasing into Mr. Washington’s hand with a gasp as he clutched onto him. A moan followed, one that slipped out before he managed to silence it. Face flushed and breathing heavily to regain the air that he had lost, Gilbert allowed his face to rest against the crook of George’s neck.