
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8217985.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Turn_(TV_2014), American_Revolution_RPF, 18th_Century_CE_RPF
  Relationship:
      George_Washington/Lawrence_Washington
  Character:
      George_Washington, Lawrence_Washington_(1718-1752), Betty_Washington,
      Mary_Ball_Washington
  Additional Tags:
      Half-Sibling_Incest, Class_Issues, Unhealthy_Coping_Mechanisms, Unhealthy
      Relationships, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Gross, Masturbation,
      Sexually_Charged_Playfighting, Grooming, Voyeurism, Frottage, Dirty_Talk,
      Hand_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-10-05 Updated: 2017-05-11 Chapters: 3/? Words: 2802
****** Roadrunner ******
by gross_batpanda
Summary
     "George leaned against the doorway of the cramped kitchen as he
     pulled on a worn t-shirt. The thin cotton clung to his chest, and
     Lawrence snuck a glance at the front of his briefs. Those were tight
     as well, and didn't leave much to the imagination--at least that was
     filling out nicely."
     The Chicagoland prequel/Amrev incest ship literally no one asked for.
Notes
     In which a brief flashback from the Chicagoland series becomes a
     full-blown chapter fic. Oops.
     CAVEATS:
     There's incest. This is an incestuous ship.This is a very unhealthy
     dynamic with no redeeming qualities. Please consider the tags before
     reading.
     I'm not adding this into the Chicagoland series because I don't want
     to disrupt the narrative arc there, but consider this as a prequel to
     Chicagoland, spanning George's adolescence in the 70's to just before
     meeting Ben.
     Otherwise, sit back, relax, and enjoy the gross.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Prologue *****
1969
 
George kicked the dresser in frustration. This whole thing was stupid. His room
was stupid. This entire shithole housing complex was stupid. His mother's bland
declaration as she smoked while Betty made breakfast was really fucking stupid.
Your brother’s going to staying here for a while, to help out with some things.
You're gonna have to share your room. Make some space in your dresser.
So fucking stupid and unfair. He dumped his clothes on the bed. It's not like
he had much in the first place; his mother made him pawn his guitar after
everything good in his life blew up in literal and figurative flames.
He moved his sticky collection of magazine clippings to the bottom of the first
drawer, along with his notebooks full of poetry, and covered everything with
socks and underwear. His mother never bothered with cleaning his room and
Lawrence was always cool to him, but there were some things he didn't want to
have to explain.
Once he was finished, leaving two drawers empty for Lawrence, he pulled out his
favorite photo of Steve McQueen, shirtless and straddling a motorcycle and
jerked it until he soaked his hand with a muffled grunt.

###

George and Betty waited for Lawrence to pull up to the cracked parking lot.
Finally, he pulled up in his Plymouth, grinning and carrying his duffel bag.
Betty rolled her eyes. “Your car isn't gonna last long around here.”
Lawrence grinned. “No one's gonna fuck with my car. Be a help with the
groceries”.George hadn't seen him since he had gotten leave for the funeral,
helping carry the casket in his Merchant Marines dress uniform.
He sighed when he got into the apartment, and helped Betty with dinner, which
they ate around the small table in the cramped kitchen. Having Lawrence around
made things easier, warmer. He didn't talk down or bark orders or ignore
George. He asked about school, cracked a few jokes, even let him have a sip of
his beer. “Betty, if you squeal to your mother I'll cut off your pigtails”, he
chuckled as Betty rolled her eyes. Mom got home a few minutes later, earning a
mumbled “speak of the devil” from Lawrence as she slipped off her heels and
hung up the garment bag with her costume. Dinner shift was alright, her tables
tipped well, Lawrence have you gotten settled alright thanks for picking up
groceries.
It was the first time things felt normal in a while.
Later, Lawrence slipped off his shirt and jeans and tossed them in a pile.
George did the same, with his back turned, to give an illusion of privacy.
“It's all right kiddo, I've seen you naked before, jeez.” George blushed at
that, and dived under the covers in his t-shirt and briefs. Lawrence only
chuckled as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and crawled into bed with him. He
fell asleep buried in Lawrence’s chest. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after
all.

###

George looked older than fifteen. He'd grown like a weed, and the softness in
his face was replaced by a certain sharpness and haggard quality. Some of that
was Mary, who was all  edges and angles, some of that was probably the change
in circumstances. Lawrence had tried his damndest after Dad died, sending
money, trying to do whatever he could from aboard a supply vessel on the
Mekong. In the end, Mary didn't care. Lawrence was discharged after Charlie
shot up his shoulder in a firefight, fucked around and took some odd lumber
jobs up north, didn't even know how bad things were until Mary had called him,
and it was too late and the house was gone
Only his skinny calves gave George away. He took after Dad--he'd be a brick
shithousr eventually. He was more sullen and reserved, barely talking in the
mornings,  always locked his bedroom door with the radio playing when Lawrence
got back from second shift. The drive out of Hamtramck was easy, only traffic
was from the shift change or a line at the liquor store where Lawrence always
picked up beer.
He trudged up the stairs, past the speed freak, the angry bum screaming about
his wife throwing him out after a fight, past the girl in too much makeup and
too tight a sweater who was always begging for rides to the drugstore for
cigarettes, up to the shabby apartment. Betty was fast asleep on the cot
surrounded by screens behind the couch in the living room, Mary wouldn't be
home until after last call, and George--
Lawrence could hear the telltale sounds of the mattress squeaking, even with
the radio on. Well, George was fifteen. Best to give him a little privacy.
Lawrence sat in the kitchen with a beer, letting the pain and soreness slowly
creep out of his body. He made a mental list of errands for the next day:
laundry, grocery shopping, finding a new doctor to hustle for pills for his
shoulder--anything to distract from his body being too decrepit for 22 and the
faint sounds of his little brother pulling off.
Finally,  there was a muffled groan, and the radio cut off, and Lawrence heard
George unlock the door, shuffle off to the bathroom and clean up.
George leaned against the doorway of the cramped kitchen as he pulled on a worn
t-shirt. The thin cotton clung to his chest, and Lawrence snuck a glance at the
front of his briefs. Those were tight as well, and didn't leave much to the
imagination--at least that was filling out nicely.
They stared in silence, until Lawrence grunted something about wanting to pass
the fuck out. For all his sullen posturing, George was a clinger when he slept.
It was hard enough to sleep on the narrow mattress, harder still when George’s
ass kept rubbing up against his crotch. He whined whenever Lawrence tried to
shift positions, so he was stuck being wedged against his little brother’s
perky ass, hoping George didn't notice the effect it had on him.


***** going faster miles an hour *****
Chapter Summary
     “Looks like you need some practice” Lawrence growled, and George felt
     dizzy. Lawrence was close enough that he could smell his cigarettes
     and sweat, and he still had him pinned, and of course his body chose
     that moment to betray him in the stupidest way possible.
Chapter Notes
     Please heed the tags. There's no slow burn here.
George kept having dreams. They were all the same--vague composites of
different guys that had George wake up in the middle of the night with his cock
throbbing, making him untangle himself from Lawrence and rush to jerk off in
the bathroom.
But sometimes he woke up to a sticky mess inside his shorts while his brother
snored next to him. Fortunately Lawrence didn't seem to notice, and neither his
mother or Betty commented on his doing the laundry without asking. They didn't
notice or care about anything George did, really. Lawrence was the one who
helped with homework, or asked about school, or hung out with him in the
deserted courtyard.
“The kids in stair four don't give you any shit, do they?” Lawrence crushed his
cigarette into the cracked pavement.
“Nah”.
Lawrence sized him up, which made him shudder. Lawrence could look at him like
he knew all George’s secrets, that he knew he stared at the bulge in Lawrence’s
briefs every morning. “Well, what's your form like, kiddo?”
Lawrence was the one who taught George how to fight, with Dad watching and
giving pointers. But playfully sparring on the front lawn was different, from a
different time. George straightened up, balled his hands into fists, one foot
in front of the other. Lawrence smiled. “Nice. Go on, try me”.
George aimed his swing for his brother's good shoulder, but Lawrence blocked
him and countered. He swung at George, but he ducked.
They tussled, less punches and more attempts to grab and subdue each other.
Lawrence was bigger, and managed to pin George against the grimy brick wall.
“Looks like you need some practice” Lawrence growled, and George felt dizzy.
Lawrence was close enough that he could smell his cigarettes and sweat, and he
still had him pinned, and of course his body chose that moment to betray him in
the stupidest way possible.
There's no way Lawrence couldn't feel it, not with how tightly he was pressed
against him, and sure enough his eyes widened and he let George go. He slouched
against the wall and stared at his shoes. George could feel his face burning,
and he mumbled at his sneakers. “Sorry, I don't know--”.
“It happens.”, Lawrence chuckled.  “You'll grow out of it. But it's best not to
pop one during a fight kiddo.”
“Yeah.”


###


Lawrence remembers going to the museum on a school trip, and seeing the murals
of larger-than-life men building cars and planes against a sweeping industrial
landscape. The guy who painted it, some Commie bastard, made it look so
exciting and noble.
In reality, it was mundane. Men filed into the plant and filed out like
clockwork. Give GM thirty years, get a decent pension. Insurance that covered
every pain pill under the sun. Coworkers that all looked and sounded the same:
how's the wife how's the kids heard you had a great night at the lanes. It was
everything not to die of boredom doing the same thing over and over again, and
his mind wandered as he worked.
More often than not, it wandered to George.
He'd been acting more squirrely lately, as if he  knew  that Lawrence was
fighting a losing battle. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to find
George rubbing against Lawrence’s leg in his sleep. He caught him staring at
Lawrence as they undressed. He kept wanting to practice fighting, which always
lead to George locking himself into the bedroom afterwards. Kid wasn't subtle.
He wanted it. It was only a matter of time.



###


George woke up in the middle of the night because the bed was shaking. The
reason made George bury himself into his pillow.
Lawrence was naked and jerking off, one arm sprawled across his face while the
other stroked his cock. Hiding his face in the pillow didn't erase what he just
saw, or Lawrence’s breathy gasps or the slick sounds he made while pulling off.
He peeked. He couldn't help it.
Lawrence’s cock was big and thick, with a slight curve, and he was mesmerized
by Lawrence bucking up and fucking it into his fist. George watched his thighs
flex, his chest heave with each stroke, and he realized that his own dick was
causing him problems.
Still, he couldn't stop watching.
Lawrence’s panting got louder as his strokes quickened. George realized that he
was grinding against the mattress. It wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the
throbbing ache in his groin, but he didn't dare try and touch himself.
Lawrence turned his head towards George and his eyes slid open. He came with an
oh  fuck  and his release painted his chest.
George froze. He could feel his face burning with shame and arousal, and buried
it into the pillow, until he could only take shallow breaths. George could hear
Lawrence get up, and he tried to focus on anything other than his cock pressing
out of his underwear. Hopefully Lawrence would ignore him and they'd forget
this happened.
He felt a hand trace circles along the small of his back, and then drift down
until it was palming his erection.
“Go on baby,” Lawrence muttered “You'll feel better.” George buried his head in
the pillow as he humped his big brother’s hand, slowly at first, and then more
rapidly as his body overrode his embarrassment and shame. The pressure was
overwhelming and George whined into the pillow.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Lawrence  crouched down to growl in George’s ear, and
George shuddered. Yes, it felt good, so good that George didn't even care about
whether anyone else could hear the noises he was making into his pillow.
“You're so desperate for it, aren't you? You gonna come?”
I'm trying , he sobbed into the pillow. 
“I've thought about this for a long time, getting my hands on that nice big
prick of yours.” George was close, so close, it wouldn't take much--
“Go on,” Lawrence whispered, his breath hot against George’s ear, “Show your
big brother how much you like this.”

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.  Shit” . George bit the pillow as he twitched and
shuddered. His underwear were absolutely soaked, and so was Lawrence’s hand as
he stroked him through it. He managed to lift his hips so Lawrence could yank
off his underwear.“God you've got a gorgeous ass”, Lawrence mumbled, and George
shuddered. He rolled George on his back and cleaned him off with a rag, then
tossed him a pair of sweatpants. They hung off his hips, but they were soft and
warm. Lawrence pulled George close and ran his hand through George’s scalp. It
wasn't long until he passed out.
***** and the neon when it's cold outside *****
Chapter Summary
     "C’mon, let me take a look at you.” George’s cheeks burned as he
     stretched out in the tub. Lawrence bit his lip as he looked him over.
     He seemed satisfied that the damage was only scraped knees, a black
     eye and a split lip. George hugged his knees to his chest as Lawrence
     took another drag of his cigarette. “Shy, aren’t you?”
Chapter Notes
     Aaaaand we're back.
     Welcome back to your favorite gross AmRev ship, now with 100% more
     emotional damage. Mind the tags.
George didn’t have any dreams that night. He stumbled out of bed in the morning
while Lawrence snored and scrubbed the dried cum off his thighs in the
bathroom, trying not to dwell on what caused the mess in the first place. He
stared at his bowl of oatmeal while his mother drank coffee and Betty chattered
about the sleepover she’d been invited to attend. George felt restless on the
walk to school, and the agitation simmered into anger and resentment once he
got to school. He couldn’t figure out what caused it; he only knew that if he
didn't beat the shit out of someone he’d crawl right out of his skin.
He didn’t know what exactly caused the  fight. It didn't matter. The only thing
that mattered was getting more blows in than the other guys. But George was
outnumbered and barely managed to escape by scrambling up the chain link fence
and running off before the principal ran into the courtyard.
He limped home. Lawrence's car was still in the parking lot, but he wasn't
inside. George shrugged off his clothes and turned on the bathtub faucet. There
were two temperatures: freezing cold and scalding hot, so George hissed as he
lowered himself into the steaming water. The phone rang, probably the school
secretary, who still hadn’t figured out that his mother wasn’t home during the
day.
He heard heavy footsteps climb the stairs and enter the apartment. He heard
Lawrence curse under his breath and George curled into himself as Lawrence
opened the bathroom door.
He sighed, leaned on the sink and opened a fresh pack of cigarettes. “Looks
like you got your ass kicked.”
George stared at the ceiling. “I punched the one guy in the jaw real good. It
woulda been different if it was just one of them but I was outnumbered.”
Lawrence chuckled. “Whatever you say, kiddo.”
They passed the cigarette back and forth in silence. George hugged his knees
and Lawrence chuckled.
“C’mon, let me take a look at you.” George’s cheeks burned as he stretched out
in the tub. Lawrence bit his lip as he looked him over. He seemed satisfied
that the damage was only scraped knees, a black eye and a split lip. George
hugged his knees to his chest as Lawrence took another drag of his cigarette.
“Shy, aren’t you?”
“Shut up”, George snarled.
“Hey”, Lawrence crouched down next to George. “That smart mouth of yours is
gonna get you in trouble.” Before George could say anything, Lawrence leaned in
and kissed him roughly. George squeaked and tried to flinch away, but Lawrence
gripped the back of his head and pushed his tongue between his teeth. He tasted
like salt and cigarettes, and George finally managed to pull away. Lawrence
smirked.
“Gotta relax, kiddo.”
He kissed him again, this time pulling his hair until George groaned, which
only made Lawrence do it again. He felt dizzy and lightheaded and his entire
body felt warm even though the bathwater was lukewarm and tepid. Lawrence
pulled away and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Stay out of trouble.”
 
His mother made it home before Lawrence did, her heels clicking against the
floor and George waited for her to shut her bedroom door to resume grinding
against the pillow. He couldn't focus and all his fantasies circled back to
grinding against Lawrence's palm. He tossed the pillow aside in frustration.
Finally, he heard the door open and Lawrence's heavy footsteps across the
apartment. He leaned against the doorway. “You still up?”.
Lawrence pulled off the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I couldn’t sleep”, George mumbled. He stood up, peeling off his underwear
while Lawrence stared hungrily. He straddled Lawrence and kissed him roughly.
Lawrence pulled him closer and purred in his ear. “What do you want, baby?”

“Touch me” he gasped. George buried his face in Lawrence's neck as he wrapped
his hand around his cock and slowly stroked him off. Everything else was wiped
from his brain, nothing else mattered as he squirmed in his brother’s lap.
End Notes
     Title is from a Johnathan Richman song, about the car of the same
     name.
     Please consider a young Thomas Jane as Lawrence.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
