Just a really lighthearted little fic because I don't know about you, but I could use a romantic pick me up. Thoughts on the pairing? 'Cause I think it's hella cute, just saying. Got a prompt? Send it my way.


Morning sunlight streamed through the open window. It was too hot to be the early morning sun, leaving me to wonder how late we'd slept in… I'd slept in. On our vacation. I realized that he was playing with my hair, me, still tucked against his side. Cozy. Loved. Lazy morning. I stretched and heard him giggle softly, I'd never understand why he thought my face when I stretched was cute, but I loved to hear him laugh like that. Shaking off the part of me that just wanted to stay in this moment and go back to sleep, I opened my eyes and saw him staring back at me. Dark brown pools.

"Good morning, mon amour." Lafayette pecked a kiss on my lips.

I couldn't help but smile up at him, curious as to just how long he'd been watching me sleep. He was usually much earlier to rise than I was, even now at twenty-six, I could sleep the day away just as easily as I could have at fifteen.

"Hi." I yawned.

"What would you like to do today?" He wound my curls around his fingers.

I traced the sharp edge of his beard, finely shaped as always, "do we have to do anything?" I wondered if that was a waste of vacation.

"Not if you do not wish to."

"I just want to stay in bed with you all day."

"That sounds nice, doesn't it? Shall I order us breakfast, love?"

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tightly, "no, just stay here."

He giggled at my display, but sunk back into the bed, letting me curl up around him, tucking my head into the hollow just under his collarbone where my head fit so perfectly. Lafayette wrapped his arms around me, he was so strong, leaving me to feel tiny beside him.

Enjoying the moment, my eyes unfocusing on the trees outside as I traced the stripe of dark, curly hair that led from his chest, down between his abs, down past his navel, between his hips and back up again. His fingers were tracing the shape of my arm from shoulder to fingertip.

"Laf?" I mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Maybe we can go to the fields you were talking about?"

He kissed the top of my head, "I would love nothing more than to show them to you."

I stretched again, "I'll have to put on pants."

"Modesty is the folly of modern civilization, no one will even know what they are missing, my John." He pushed the blanket down my hip and I felt him staring at me.

After an hour of distracting one another we got up and dressed ourselves. Lafayette donning linen pants and a half open shirt that showed not quite enough of his chest in my humble opinion.

"Come, love." He took my hand, kissed me cheek and pulled me along out the door of our Airbnb and into the bustling Parisian streets.

Our Airbnb was the top floor of a flat overlooking the glass pyramid of the Louvre. It was perfect, this part of the city was gorgeous. Lafayette led me into a cafe just down to the street where he ordered for us in perfect French.

I was easily distracted from my chocolate croissant by all of the sights and sounds and smells of Paris. People looking effortlessly perfect strolled by on their phones, carrying parasols, walking their dogs. I sighed, enamored by it all and let Lafayette, focused on navigating us while sipping his espresso, guide me by the hands down the street to the parking garage where we'd left our rental.

The tiny Fiat came alive with the push of a button and I watched the streets pass with my nose practically pressed against the window.

"If I would have known how endearing you would be, I'd have brought you home so much sooner." Lafayette laughed from the driver's seat.

"I just… It's so… It's amazing."

He shifted into a higher gear and put his hand on my thigh, rubbing carefree circles with his thumb and messing with the hem of my shorts.

"I am glad that you enjoy it so much."

I tried to read the street signs as we passed them, "hey! That one's Lafayette!"

He chuckled the sweet little embarrassed snort that he made when his name was in question, "there are many places that bear my name here, cher."

"Explain it to me again?" I pleaded, turning to look at him, tugging at one of the tight coils of hair he'd pulled into a puff on the top of his head.

Laf sighed, "my great great great great great… whatever, you get the picture, grandfather was the Marquis de Lafayette, he had at least a thousand names, even I do not keep them all straight, and I was named after him. Technically his name was Gilbert and he was the Marquis of Lafayette as a region, but my mother named me after him because of his tie-in to the American Revolution since she is so infatuated with America."

"So… how royal are you?" I toyed with his earlobe.

"I am not royal. We have not been royal… well, ever, it is more a title of distinguishment, but everything changed after the revolution."

"What did the revolution have to do with anything?" I squinted trying to compare American history to his bloodline.

"No, love, the French Revolution."

"Les Miserables."

He smirked, "more or less."

"Less singing." I stated as fact.

"Probably. Same homoerotic sexual tension, though." He winked at me.

"I mean… that's just how revolutions go. Is it even a revolution without a thinly veiled gay subplot?"

"Not a revolution I would want to partake in."

The city faded behind us as we drove to the countryside. Lafayette rolled down the windows and breathed in the country air, my curls flew around my face and I caught him grinning at me and felt heat rise to my cheeks. I pulled my hair back into a messy bun, spitting strands out of my mouth as I did so. It was so beautiful out here, there were rolling hills covered in blooming lavender and finally as we crested a hill, sunflowers. Yellow as far as the eye could see. I gasped and clutched Laf's thick arm.

"Baby, it's… beautiful."

He smirked back at me, I knew that you would love it here. I know the sunflowers are your favourite."

"Of course they're my favourite! Look how beautiful they are."

There was a shoulder on the road just big enough for the car and he pulled onto it, gravel crunching under the tires. We got out and he went to the back of the car, opening the little hatch and pulled out a basket and blanket while I shouldered my satchel.

"Where'd you get that stuff?" I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I have my ways, dearest." He kissed my forehead and shuffled the blanket over to the hand already carrying the basket, closed the hatchback and then offered his free hand to me.

"I can carry something." I offered.

"No need. I have it all."

We walked at the edge of the sunflowers, it had turned into a perfectly warm, wonderful, sunny day. Lafayette found a large oak tree and spread the blanket out under the shade. The spot he picked overlooked a tiny pond and the fields of sunflowers.

I pulled off my Sperry's and sat down on the blanket, Lafayette crouched on his knees beside me and started sifting through the basket, retrieving a bottle of wine. He uncorked it and poured us both glasses. I sipped the wine and he tore a piece of fresh, still slightly warm bread from a baguette, passed it to me and then a small pot of butter, wrapped in cheesecloth. We spread the butter onto our chunks of baguette and ate and drank.

"I think all I've done is eat bread here." I laughed.

"Then you are doing something right." He winked.

"I guess so." I chuckled around a bite.

The butter was so fresh, so creamy and fatty, nothing like I'd ever had back in the states. If butter, just butter, could be this good, not to mention the wine, the other food, the art, the city, the countryside, then I could easily see why Laf missed it so much when we were back in New York. After we ate our picnic I pulled my sketchbook out of my satchel, rolled onto my belly and started to draw what I saw. My sketching left me almost oblivious to Laf leaving until I noticed his walking down by the pond. I love him. I smiled to myself and started to work him into the sketch. He took long, languid, elegant strides which despite moving so slowly, carried him quickly around the water.

As I worked in oil pastels, he returned with two large sunflowers and handed one to me.

"Is this allowed?" I gasped despite my grin.

He shrugged, "if it is not, you will play stupid American. Any Frenchman would certainly believe you."

"Hey!"

"I'm teasing you."

He crawled up behind me and lie softly on my back, looking over my shoulder at what I was working on.

"It's very lovely, cher."

"Thanks, I had a wonderful model."

"Am I in everything you draw?"

I shook my head, "only the good ones."

"Hmm… sure." He reached around my chest and unbuttoned my shirt as far as he could.

"What are you doing?" I laughed at him.

"Take this off." He whispered into my ear.

"Alright, silly, okay." I sat up and unbuttoned the rest of the shirt and let it slide off my shoulders.

"Lie back down like you were. Keep drawing, I don't want to interrupt you."

I followed his instruction and continued to work the oil pastels into the paper. He took the sunflower he kept for himself and started to pull the petals off of it. Curious about what he was doing, I continued to work on my drawing. He tickled me with gentle sensations as he placed petals down my spine, across my shoulders, moving past my shorts, he continued down the backs of my legs, over my calves, down the arches of my feet,

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Making my own artwork." He grinned, proud of himself.

I tried to hold back my grin, but failed miserably, "see, now, I can't move, but I really want to just come kiss your face."

He bent down to kiss me softly, I pulled his chin closer to me and kept him in the kiss, our tongues softly meeting. As I kissed him, a gentle breeze blew around us, fluttering the pages of my sketchbook.

Lafayette complained in French, breaking our kiss, "I suppose you can move now,"

I pouted playfully at him, "all your hard work."

"It's okay, I still have my masterpiece."

He pulled me into his lap and I wrapped my legs around his hips and kissed him again lazily, nowhere else in the world to be. We stared out at the little pond, me leaning against his chest and I pulled a few long pieces of grass out from where they grew near the blanket and twisted them into a headband and ornamented it with the scattered petals and placed it on his head.

"For my king, or Marquis, or… prince… or whatever the gay revolution stopped you from being."

He laughed and worked to braid a crown for me. We sat together, wearing our crowns, drinking more wine and bread until we both felt heavy and silly and sang made up songs to each other. He pulled me up to stand and danced barefoot in the grass with me.

"I love you, Laf." I told him earnestly as we flopped back down on the blanket where I immediately moved to rest my head, still adorned with my crown, on his hip.

"I love you, Jack. So much." He balled my discarded shirt up and placed it behind his head.

"France is perfect."

"I know." He said it so dreamily.

"I'm a little drunk." I told him.

"As am I."

"We live in this field now."

"Only temporarily," he reached to rummage in the basket and pulled out a foil package, opened it and carefully handed me a heat-softened square of dark chocolate.

"You're a wizard! This is amazing, how did you, wow, I love you."

He smirked and took a bite out of his own square. I ran my finger through the melting square and swiped it across his bare chest and kissed it off of him. He shook his head and grinned at me.

"Brave move from the guy not wearing a shirt."

"You're barely wearing a shirt." I wiped the corners of my mouth.

He pinned me down and swiped melted chocolate over my neck and lapped it off, making me giggle wildly at the tickling sensation of it. I pressed what was left of the square between my fingers to melt it faster and streaked it across his mouth sloppily just to kiss it off.

"You're going to get us in trouble." He whispered into my ear.

By the time the sunlight was dying he was sober enough to drive. I helped him pack up our picnic and we drove back toward the city.