Request: reader is the cousin of g.wash […] and they’re close. it’s Washington’s bday and reader get introduced to Laffy at dinner
Pairing: Lafayette x reader
Warnings: terrible french, a pov swap, historical
Word count: 1,166
A/N: French translations (sorry there’s a few) Le plaisir était pour moi.’ means “the pleasure is all mine” and “je m’appelle” means “my name is”; ‘je suis’ means “I am”, and “Ça fait longtemps que je n'ai pas parlé français” means “it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken french”, ‘bien sûr’ means “of course” and ‘il est d'une suffisance écœurante’ means “he is sickeningly smug” aaaand ‘Ecris-moi bientôt’ means “write soon”
You tried not to gawk as you entered your cousin’s mt. Vernon home. Well furnished and looked after, it was one of the nicer homes you’d been in since you’d returned from France.
Your cousin George was standing in centre of the room, greeting his guests. Nervous, you smoothed down your skirts and wondered if he would recognise you after so long.
Before you had left to France you and George had been close- two seven year olds with similar ideas and goals. Only George was a General now and you were a woman, waiting at home.
“Hello George,” you said as you approached him, sweeping a curtsy, “it’s been a while. Happy Birthday!”
You saw him do a double take, his polite smiling quickly turning into a grin. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, “How are you?”
“Not nearly as well as you, it seems,” you teased, easily falling back into the give-and-take you used to delight in. “This general lark seems fun. I’m sure I could manage it just as well.”
He raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “I’m sure you could.”
You found yourself seated next to George and opposite his wife at the table. You sipped at the wine and eagerly caught up with your cousin.
About half way through the dessert course the doors opened, admitting a late diner. George stood and nodded, gesturing for the newcomer to take the empty seat on your left.
“Y/N,” he said, “this is the Marquis.”
You turned to greet the Marquis. He was tall, skin dark and hair pulled back into a bun. He wore the uniform of a revolutionary and looked, if you were honest, breathtakingly handsome in it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said.
He smiled charmingly and bent to kiss your hand, “Le plaisir était pour moi.”
“Merci,” you replied, blushing. “Je m’appelle Y/N L/N.”