Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

"I want you to stay here with me," he murmured, George could hear the vulnerability in his quiet voice.

“Gladly.” Soaking up the other’s warmth, he let his eyes drift shut.

Bailey buried his nose into George's hair, breathing softly.

“Bailey?” he asked softly, cracking one eye open again.

"Mm…?" He breathed in response.

“Do you want to…. give this a go? Us, I mean?” He voiced the question meekly, as if he was afraid of the answer.

"Yes." He answered softly.

His posture relaxed, shoulders sagging with relief. “I—I’m glad.”

Bailey sighed deeply, and closed his eyes to sleep

George allowed himself to drift off once more, echoing Bailey’s contented sigh.

When George woke, Bailey's arms were still wrapped around him, but George had been pulled on top of Bailry when the man rolled on to his back in the night, using George as a blanket now.

George blinked away a sleepy haze, yawning softly. It took him a moment to realize where exactly he was, but once it had struck him in the face, his flusterdness had cut straight through the morning fog.

Bailey slept strangely, his head tilted back to what looked very uncomfortable. His hair draped up the slopes of his pillow.

After staying perfectly still for approximately thirty seconds while his cheeks became flooded with heat and colour, George finally dared to move, carefully removing Bailey’s arms from around him.

They slid easily off him– luckily dead asleep.

George sat up, wiping the residual sleep from his eyes.

Bailey breathed in and out at a soft pace, breathing through his lips.

“Bailey…” he whispered, shaking his shoulder.

"Mhh.." he grunted quietly, lifting his head. A blond cowlick sprung from being trapped under his head, and perched over his forehead.

"Well, I deserve it," he looked back down and continued, resignation in his words. "I'm a disappointment, a failure, and an awful husband, you were right." Peter couldn't tell if John was being sarcastic, or if he genuinely believed this now. "You were right."

Peter stood up. "Did you tell Jane yet?"

"No." He grunted. He looked up. "You know, Peter, I haven't seen her in almost a month." He looked back down. "An entire month.."

Bro. I burst a blood vessel two days ago by drawing too intensely )
Its still swollen 😂 )

"No." He grunted. He looked up. "You know, Peter, I haven't seen her in almost a month." He looked back down. "An entire month.."

Bro. I burst a blood vessel two days ago by drawing too intensely )
Its still swollen 😂 )

(That's a mood! XD)

"John, go home," Peter urged him.

"I can't, for the fourth time. Clinton has to release me. I can't leave on my own." He muttered.

"Tell him it's to see Jane, I'm sure he'll allow it."

He shrugged slowly. "I don't know." He watched anither curly shaving of wood drift onto the grass.

"Do you not want to see your wife?"

John shot him daggers with a look.

He frowned. "You have to tell her."

"You're like a leech in my side," John mumbled, looking back down to his knife and twig.

He crossed his arms. "I can leave if you like, sir."