Schmidt literally just got the fuck out of there and let Francois have his shit show on the floor. However, being the good friend he is, he went to the bathroom and made sure everything was in order for a good wash down. Francois was in no condition to clean himself. Luckly, Francois hadn’t eaten anything so there were no chunks in his vomit, which Schmidt was thankful for. He could handle liquid vomit, but he would have dipped out if there had been chunks.

After checking the bathroom was in order and giving Francois time to puke everything out, he went back out to check up on the drunk mess that he cared so much for. When he got back to Francois, he was rolled up on the floor crying about how fucked up he was.

“I know buddy, I know. Are you done now?”

“I need more to drink.”

“You need a bath.”

“Can you bathe with me?”

Schmidt sighed. “Get off your ass and go to the bathroom. I’m not touching you right now.”

“So you’ll touch me later?” Francois got on his hands and knees and started crawling like a giant baby.

“Shut up and just get in the damn tub.” Schmidt complained as he walked back to the bathroom.

Francois eventually made it to the bathroom and rolled over the edge of the tub to get himself into it. “I’m in the tub, daddy. Where’s my rubber duckie?”

“You don’t have a rubber duckie.” Schmidt picked up a pitcher from beside the tub and started letting the water run.

The water came out cold because the first water built in heater wouldn’t be invented until the nineteenth century. It was too short notice for Schmidt to boil large amounts of water to make the water comfortable. Besides, Francois was wasted and probably wouldn’t even notice.

Schmidt let the water fill the pitcher while Francois mumbled some shit about the soap being in the small bush next to the laundry rock. Once the pitcher was full, he poured it over Francois’ body to rinse the vomit off his body. This was repeated until Francois was fast asleep in the tub and devoid of his own vomit.

With all the nasty gone, Schmidt allowed the tub to fill with the cold water. He only let it get a few inches deep because he didn’t want to drown Francois by accident. He sudded up a cloth and began to clean Francois’s body. Schmidt was thankful he was passed the fuck out because Francois would have turned a nice gesture into a sexual irritation.

Satisfied that Francois was now clean, he wrestled Francois’ body out of the tub and onto the floor. Schmidt let him just lay there while he grabbed a towel and dried him off. With Francois cleaned and dried, Schmidt dragged his body to the guest room and somehow managed to get him in the bed. Schmidt wasn’t weak, but Francois weighed more than a bag of bricks and was even heavier when out cold.

Francois didn’t wake until the next morning. He woke up with a start and started punching the pillow because he thought it was someone in his tree. After the initial startle, he realized that he wasn’t in his tree, but in someone’s bed. 

He was livid at first. Why the fuck wasn’t he in his tree and where the fuck was he? He didn’t even remember drinking. Did he get laid last night? That would explain why he was in an unfamiliar bed.

At this thought, he quickly jumped out of the bed. Where was his partner from last night? Did he hurt them in his morning panic? He looked around the room and was relieved to find no one in the room.

He was still racking his brain for what had happened. He remembered going to Schmidt’s house to get a bottle of wine, but didn’t remember anything after that. He opened the door to the room and walked out. When the door opened, he realized where he was.

Schmidt was standing right outside the door, getting ready to go in. “Well, good morning. I hope you slept well. I also hope you’re not too hungover. We have a meeting later tonight. Don’t forget about it. Now, I need you to go put some clothes on.”

“Fuck, what the hell happened?” Francois groaned.

“You drank everything I had in my house. You puked and pissed all over yourself. I cleaned you up and put your ass in bed. Be thankful I didn’t kill you because believe me when I say I wanted to.”

Francois screamed as he made his way to Schmidt’s back door. He was not happy. He wanted to stay sober last night so he could work on planning how he was going to react to Klaus and his new boyfriend. Now he had to rush to his tree, slap some clothes on, and start working out his feelings about seeing Klaus again.

When Francois got to his tree he began to punch it as hard as he could. It hurt a little bit, but he needed something to help calm him down, and he didn’t have time to fiddle with his muskets. With his knuckles slightly bloody, he decided it was enough and went back to the stream to collect his suit.

He dressed himself and made his way to the town. He wanted to go to the bar and drink, but he also didn’t want to get wasted again. He really just wanted to go and walk the streets and see what kind of reactions his new clean look would get. Maybe he’d even get laid before the meeting. He had the whole day ahead of him.