Author's Note: I didn't intend for this to be anything more than a oneshot, but some of you asked for more and I just happened to think of more parodies. So here we have it. And oooooh, is this the most parody-worth pairing in the fandom.

I mean, seriously? Connor/Washington? Why does this pairing even exist yet? I expected it, but not so soon. The game is five months away from release. No offense to those who have written it. I just think it's absolutely ridiculous for reason's you're about to read.

That said, I give you Connor/Washington. Enjoy!

Connor was…confused, for lack of a better word.

Technically he shouldn't even exist in this form yet. All the world had of him was a handful of screenshots, a couple of trailers and a voice clip. And yet somehow here he was, standing in a tent in the middle of the wilderness. As far as he could tell, at least.

Why was he here? How? For what purpose?

He hadn't the slightest clue, but he suspected he was about to find out. In the most unpleasant of ways, he might add. Perhaps he should wander a bit, if only to gain his bearings. Being caught so off-guard disturbed him.

Before he could make his exit through the tent flap, however, someone entered into it.

It was none other than General George Washington of course, wearing nothing but a tight pair of breeches and a funny little hat with a feather sticking out of the…hey, wait a second.

"Is…is that a beret?"

Washington grinned, which was strange considering every portrait ever painted of him was packed with about as much emotional diversity as Kristen Stewart's acting.

"Yup. Took this little beauty from some dead French guy. He won't be missing it."

It was all he could do to keep himself from gaping.

Just leave right now, Connor. Run while you still can. Warning! Danger. DANGER.

"Um. Right. My apologies, sir. I can't seem to remember how I came to be standing in your tent. I'll just, um…get out of your way."

To his surprise, the man did not seem displeased or even irritated. To the contrary, his expression was almost pitying.

"No one told you, did they? Oh dear. This is troubling."

What.

What.

Oh God.

What was that supposed to mean?

"I do not understand."

"Connor, is it? I am sorry to break this to you, lad, but we are entangled in what is known as fanfiction. At present time, we are expected to fuck the shit out of each other until we fall into a sex-crazed stupor."

Connor could only stare, unblinking. "That's not funny, sir."

"Nor was it supposed to be. Well okay, a few chuckles would have been nice, but still. What I told you is true. We have to bang each other now. It's written down for us."

Funny, he couldn't seem to move his face. At all. "You're kidding me. You're fucking kidding me."

"Afraid not. I'm sorry. I'll try to make this as painless as possible for both of us."

"This…this cannot be. They warned me about 'fanfiction,' but…Oh, come on! This isn't fair. My game isn't even out yet."

Washington sighed and sat on the edge of his cot. "I know. I'm sorry."

"No. No no no, I do not have to do this yet! You dirty, lecherous scribes! Have they no shame, General? Have they no shame?"

"Let's just get this over with, Connor, okay? Better to do the deed and be done with it. Like pulling a thistle from one's foot, wouldn't you agree? Quick and painless. Now take off your clothes and bend over. "

Connor was not amused.

"This is just a bit different from a fucking thistle, General. I'm in no mood for your bad metaphors. And why do you get to top me?"

"Dude. I'm George Washington! We're already blaspheming history in about ten thousand different ways just by being here. I guess the person who wrote this thought it wouldn't seem quite as bad if you were the one getting railed instead of me."

"Yes, because my people haven't been victimized enough have they? I'm the poor, gentle little Indian boy dominated by the big, strong European guy, is that it? God, that's just sick. What is wrong with you people?"

"Oh you're being a bit overly dramatic, aren't you?"

"Tell that to the millions of Indians who died of small pox and were sold into slavery almost three centuries ago when that Columbus douche-bag 'discovered' their land. I mean…I'm not saying we would never fuck under any circumstances, but how would these fans know if we would or not? The game isn't even out yet. Are they so fond of creating internet porn, they completely ignore any attempt at proper characterization? Go write some more Ezio/Leonardo if you're that desperate. Maybe some Altair/Malik too. Hey, why not go all the way and throw in a Shaun/Desmond just for kicks. It doesn't have to make sense as long as it's two dudes butt-fucking."

Washington listened to Connor's rant, but said nothing in response. Mostly all he could see in the general's face was grim resignation. "Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. Just bend the fuck over and we'll get down to business. I'll be gentle, I promise."

He'd be gentle. Oh, he'd be gentle. Well then, that just made everything fucking okay didn't it?

"I mean it, Washington. I am not having sex with you."

"But…" He looked crest-fallen. "It's in the script."

"To hell with the script! For God's sake man, you're the leader of a resistance. Resist!"

"I suppose that would make sense, would it not?"

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. These villainous 'fans' don't even know you yet and they certainly don't know me. How could they treat us like prizes for their harem? This is a video game, not a brothel."

"Yes, you're right. Of course you're right."

Washington nodded decisively, but Connor couldn't help but notice it seemed half-hearted. Ah. Disappointed, was he?

That raised far more questions than answers. Connor's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Wait a second. You were looking forward to this, weren't you?"

"Well…maybe a little." Hurriedly, he held his hands out in front of him in an attempt to placate a disgruntled Connor, who was currently reaching for his tomahawk.

"Now hold on a moment. Try to see this from my perspective. I'm in the middle of a war here, son. It has been a long time. A very long time."

That seemed to calm him a bit. His hand remained poised on the hilt of his weapon, although he no longer moved to draw it. "I…suppose that's fair enough. But be that as it may, I'm still not having sex with you."

"I understand." A pause. "Couldn't you just…you know. Help me relieve some tension?"

Connor remained still, though his eyes grew cold. "No."

"Let me see your endowment? Just once?"

"No."

"Can I have a kiss?"

"How many different languages do I have to say no in for you to understand?"

Washington stood up and started pacing the tent, hands threaded through his hair in exasperation. "Come on. I bought a new CD for this and everything! See, look! I thought you'd like it." Hurriedly, he plucked something off his bedside table and thrust it into Connor's hand, gazing into his face expectantly.

The Assassin raised an eyebrow. "Maroon 5? Dude, that is so ten years ago. Er…kind of. I guess. Wait, where the fuck did you get a CD in 1777? How does that even work? These band members won't be born for another two-hundred years."

"It doesn't matter, it's in the script!"

Connor's face was going to get stuck in a dead-pan expression. "You are one sad, strange little man, General."

"I know. My apologies. But if we could just…"

"Jesus Christ, dude! You have hundreds of other sexually deprived men right outside! Go find one!"

His eyes lit up and he smiled, as if the idea hadn't even occurred to him. "You think they'd go for it?"

"Only one way to find out."

"…you're so much more attractive though."

"I will kill you where you stand."

A sigh. "Fine, fine. Holy hell. I am never getting laid."

Yes, I had to crack that Kristen Stewart joke. It was necessary.

Now that I just committed about ten thousand different types of blasphemy, I think I've earned a few reviews, don't you? :D