Chapter Text
John Laurens sighed back into his hospital pillow, watching the back of his father’s coat disappear out the door, grinning in smug satisfaction as the door slammed shut. Not like he can do anything to me here , John thought, grasping to his bedside table to flip through his sketchbook.
Nothing.
John looked around the room, spotting his sketchbook in the farthest corner. Of course. He snorted. Moving my sketchbook isn’t gonna do anything, Dad. Thought you would’ve learned that, at the very least.
The door creaked open, and John panicked briefly at the thought of his father returning, but Henry Laurens never politely opened the door, it was always a stiff, brisk, confident swing.
Maria Lewis stood in the doorframe, peeking into the room.
“Hey,” John said, weakly.
“Hi? I’m so sorry to bother you...” She said. “I just - Angelica said you wouldn’t get any visitors this weekend because of RevFest, so I thought I should... stop by? I know we haven’t talked a lot so...” She held up a plastic shopping bag. John could see the outlines of a few bars of chocolate and various snacks. “I brought food?”
John sighed in relief. “Maria Lewis, you’re literally the best person I have seen all day. No joke.”
Maria relaxed slightly, stepping closer. She plopped the bag onto John’s lap and pulled over a chair. John tore into a bar of milk chocolate, only slightly self-conscious at Maria’s nervous stares.
“So... who was that... person who just left your room?” Maria asked, after a painful minute of silence. She jerked her head at the closed door. “The one in the grey suit. He looked kinda...”
John swallowed a bit of chocolate, grimacing. “My dad. He was mad because...” John struggled to think of proper phrasing, “well, because of some dumb shit.” My being gay, not being interested in “the family business,” having nonfunctioning legs, etc., etc., etc.
Maria’s eyebrows raised an almost imperceptible amount. “He wasn’t mad at you , was he?”
John shrugged, stuffing another mouthful of chocolate into his mouth to delay a response. "'S not like I can do anything 'bout it. He'sh jusht annoyed I can't be...." John waved his free hand, "like, the ultimate Republican straight dude."
Maria winced and drummed her fingernails against her leg. "And I'm guessing your broken spine isn’t helping."
John shrugged again. "Yeah, well, it wasn't like I had much of an interest in stuff that involved legs in the first place. Another reason why he hates me - I wasn't ever interested in farming and football or whatever." John stared at the IV drip next to his bed, averting his gaze from Maria. Great job, now you've done it, John. Just start venting to someone you barely know. "I know, this is all very cheery, great for a visit," he added in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.
Maria cracked a small grin. "Hospitals aren't really made to be ‘cheery,’ so I think I can forgive you."
"Hey, can you do me a favor?" John looked back over from the IV drip. "Can you get my sketchbook from over there?" He pointed to the black-bound sketchbook in the corner.
Maria nodded, grabbing it and dropping it on the bed table, before sitting back down.
"Thanks, dude. You have no idea how boring this place is. Plus, the nurses won't let me use my laptop all the time because it's ‘damaging my eyes.’ How dumb is that? Like, yeah, it is damaging them, but I don't have functioning legs, why would I give a fuck about my eyes?"
"How'd your sketchbook get over there anyway?"
"My dad put it over there when he visited." John grimaced. "He does it every time, for some reason."
Maria bit the inside of her cheek. "Either you're really bad at describing people, or your dad is a huge asshole."
"Well... he is a huge asshole." John looked up at Maria, wearing a resigned smile. "But like, he's my dad. He’s family. Sure, he’s shit family, but I have to deal with that."
“You don’t have to deal with someone who doesn’t care about you.”
John stared at Maria. She stared out of the single window, fists clenched in her lap. She paused, glaring at the window like it contained some dark secret. “Just because someone tells you that you have to love someone doesn’t make it true.” She turned back to John, who suddenly found it very difficult to articulate the mess of thoughts swimming through his head.
He searched for something to say, stumbling incoherently over words, “I- well - I can’t just cut ties. My - my siblings, and my dad does care, but -”
“Did he ever hurt you?”
Yes no , it could have been worse. John nervously reaches for his arm, no dinner tonight, you aren’t leaving your room, this was your fault, a slap to his arm, his face, I don’t know how it happened Doctor, John was just playing outside, you aren’t going to school like that there are still bruises, what would the other kids think, I’m doing this for your own good, it’s because I care about you -
Pause. No he doesn’t.
You aren’t any different. He doesn’t care about you.
He does, he always says - he does it because he cares.
But why would he?
This was your fault.
Maria sighed. “Sorry for making this awkward. I... I just hate seeing... well, maybe it’s none of my business.”
John sunk deeper into his pillow. “It’s fine.”
Maria looked out the window again. “Sorry.”
“Nah, I just... I thought I had sorted all that shit out, but...” John inhaled. “Clearly not.”
Maria looked back over at John. “It’s fine to not be okay. It’s something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you.”
As Maria left the hospital room, John ran his hand across the numerous pages of his sketchbook, careful not to smudge any of his drawings. Something they can never take away?
ANGELICA
ANGELICA: Burr since when are you dating alex???
BURR (YOU): Uh
BURR (YOU): You just found out about this??? It’s been like two weeks
ANGELICA: For some reason i am the last to know about these things
ANGELICA: Anyway as i was saying there’s something you oughta know
BURR (YOU): Yeah yeah if i hurt him you’ll murder me in my sleep with a spatula and half a pineapple
BURR (YOU): I already got the shovel talk from Laf and Herc
BURR (YOU): God I already punched the kid in the face what else can i do???
ANGELICA: What?? No no nothing like that
ANGELICA: I was just gonna say good fucking luck alex is an asshole
BURR (YOU): Oh
ANGELICA: You punched him in the face????
BURR (YOU): Uhhh
ANGELICA: Burr i think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship
BURR (YOU): … Okay
BURR (YOU): Sorry for hitting on you that one time I guess???
ANGELICA: It’s OK
ANGELICA: You didn’t leave much of impression anyway
BURR (YOU): Ouch???
DON’T WASTE MEMES ON HIM
DON’T WASTE MEMES ON HIM: john i know your dad is pretty shitty
DON’T WASTE MEMES ON HIM: my uncle is kind of similar
DON’T WASTE MEMES ON HIM: and if you ever want to maybe to talk about it i’m here i guess?
SMALL TURTLE (YOU): no offense burr but like you’re the last person i want to have emotional conversations with
DON’T WASTE MEMES ON HIM: oh thank god
PARTNER IN CRIME
PARTNER IN CRIME: i think i found out mr franklins twitter
HERCULES MULLIGAN!!! (YOU): peg its midnight
HERCULES MULLIGAN!!! (YOU): wait
HERCULES MULLIGAN!!! (YOU): mr franklin has a twitter?
PARTNER IN CRIME: well
PARTNER IN CRIME:
100 dolla @bfranks
Fun Fact: Electricity is not an effective means of cooking turkeys! I am also possibly suffering from electrocution.
king louis @klouis
@bfranks Ben, non
100 dolla @bfranks
Now for my next experiment: air bathing.
king louis @klouis
@bfranks I do not want to ask
100 dolla @bfranks
@klouis You’re free to join me... ;)
HERCULES MULLIGAN!!! (YOU): holy shit
PARTNER IN CRIME: yyyyyeah
BATTLE OF THE BANDS (HAMILSQUAD 2.0 STOP JEFFERSON)
ELIZA SCHUYWALKER (YOU): angelica can you pick up some snacks on the way back home alex and i are kinda hungry
ELIZA SCHUYWALKER (YOU): even if he won’t admit it
ALEX: i’m fine
ELIZA SCHUYWALKER (YOU): >:/
ANGELICAAAA: Sure also marias coming over
ANGELICAAAA: Question do red and pink go well together?
HERC: only if you balance it out with white
ALEX: YOU ARTFUL SLUT
ANGELICAAAA: WHAT DID YOU CALL ME
ALEX: SORRY sorry your cat SHE KNOCKED SOMETHING OVER I DIDN’T MEAN IT PLEASE DON’T KILL ME
ALEX: I KNOW SLUT IS A TERRIBLE WORD I’M SORRY
ANGELICA: Hmph
ELIZA SCHUYWALKER (YOU): celia... ( •̀ x •́)
LAURENS (´･ω･`): i’ve tapped into the enigmatic mind of aaron burr
LAURENS (´･ω･`): here’s my burr impression, you guys judge me
LAURENS (´･ω･`): “what if instead of hitting on alex... i actually hit him.”
ALEX: perfect
LAURENS (´･ω･`): so whenre you actually gonna ask the guy to prom???
ALEX: uh funny you should ask
JOHN
JOHN: hey
MARIA (YOU): hi
JOHN: i just wanted to say thanks
MARIA (YOU): ?
JOHN: for
JOHN: for the chocolate
Aaron’s arms were beginning to strain under the weight of the boombox, which was currently blasting “In Your Eyes” at full volume to every dorm within a mile radius. Maybe, he briefly considered, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
Aaron almost thought about yelling to get Alex’s attention, but that would ruin the aesthetic. He supposed he could always throw rocks at the window, but that would be mixing references, and Alex had been very specific. Besides, nothing ruined the mood more than shattered glass and a $300 fine.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the window cracked open, and Aaron straightened, heart pounding. This is it, the big moment!
“Burr, pardon mon anglais, but what the fuck are you doing?” Lafayette shouted from the window, hair still in disarray, clearly having just woken up. Burr’s heart plummeted faster than a ten ton weight.
“Wh - Lafayette?” Burr yelled back, the boombox shaking under his skinny arms.
The Marquis looked around the yard, taking in the lights carefully strung around the quad between the dorms, the teetering boombox, and finally, Aaron himself.
“Are you asking moi to prom? That is very sweet, but Mulligan has already -”
“What? No! Why - why are you here?” Burr sputtered. “I thought you lived in the exchange student houses?”
Lafayette blinked. “Mister Washington pulled some strings. C’est chez moi quand I am in les États-Unis. What are you doing here?”
Burr’s arms finally gave way to the boombox, which came crashing down onto the soft yard and ended the song.
Lafayette stared at the boombox, which began to sputter sporadically, then back at Aaron.
“Is Alex here? He lives in the room next to you, right? I checked that like a million times.” Aaron asked, rubbing his arm sympathetically.
Lafayette seemed to finally register what was happening and replied excitedly, “Oh! Yes, yes, he lives here.”
“Can I see him?” Burr added meekly.
Lafayette looked behind them, tapping their fingers on the windowsill and biting their lip. “He is... in the shower.”
Burr stared at Lafayette. His heart had already sunk into his stomach, but it looked like it had prepared its pickaxe and was ready to dig. “Is this a bad time?”
Lafayette’s grimace confirmed that it was indeed, a bad time. “I can go get him if you wish?” They added unhelpfully.
Burr began to shake his head but, at that very moment, a shower door slammed somewhere in the building, footsteps pounded on the floor, and the front door burst open.
“Burr?!” Alexander Hamilton shouted, racing across the quad. It took Aaron approximately half a second to realize three fundamental truths at the exact same time:
- Oh shit Alex is here.
- Oh shit everything is all messed up.
- Oh shit Alex isn’t wearing pants.
No, Alex was clothed only in a hastily wrapped towel that did very little to preserve his dignity. Water dripped from his shoulder-length hair and plastered it to his neck.
Something short-circuited in Aaron’s brain as he drunk in the sight of so much bare wet skin, failing to notice Lafayette slinking away from the windowsill, only to return moments later with his phone.
“Burr, what are you doing? What’s going on?” Alex asked, looking suspiciously around the yard.
Aaron could only stand and gape at the half-naked boy in front of him. “Well - I -” he began, helplessly watching as Alex noticed the boombox lying on the grass, occasionally spitting out a fragment of bad 80s music, only to revert to static. Aaron could relate.
“Were you trying to...” Alex began, looking up at Burr.
“No! Of course not - why would - why would you think that, it’s not - it’s nothing! I’ll see you later!” Burr said before dashing towards the exit of the quad. Smooth operator, Aaron.
He was halted only by a frenzy of angry curses in a multitude of languages, which erupted from Alex’s mouth and made Aaron stop in his tracks. He turned around, mouth agape.
Alex stomped his foot against the grass. “Now what am I gonna do with my boombox! I was gonna ask you! I was getting ready to head over to your dorm - dammit!”
Aaron’s mouth opened and closed like a drowning fish. It took several seconds before he could process what he had just heard.
“Wait, so will you go to prom with me?” He asked, pointing at Alex, who blinked, dumbfounded.
The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable period of time.
Alex was still only wearing a towel.
Suddenly Aaron found himself with an armful of wet, half-naked Alexander Hamilton, who was squeezing him tighter than a cobra and getting his shirt sopping wet. Aaron somehow didn’t mind.
“Of course I will! You! I can’t believe it - Burr, you big sap!” Alex exclaimed, picking up the other boy and spinning him around, spraying water across the quad.
Aaron was simultaneously impressed and fucking terrified.
...I’m going to prom with Alexander Hamilton.
“I’m going to prom with Alexander Hamilton,” he said, staring at the ground as Alexander continued to spin.
Lafayette called out from the window, camera pressed against their eye, “Now kiss!”
Hamilton glared at Lafayette, who was squinting through the camera at them and grinning, and gently put Aaron back down on the ground. “I mean,” he said with a lopsided smile, “that would complete the cheesy eighties movie vibe.”
“You don’t need an excuse for wanting to kiss me,” Burr said quietly as he fiddled with the bottom of his now extremely damp shirt. He glanced up at Alex, who was staring at him with open brown eyes.
His lashes were still wet, and the droplets caught between them almost resembled tears. Aaron reached out and slid his fingers into Alex’s dripping hair and, ignoring the excited squeal from the window, leaned in to press their lips together. Alex threw his arms around Aaron’s neck, wet skin soaking the back of his shirt, but Aaron didn’t care, only focused on the way Alex’s lips moved against his own or the wet slide of his chest. They stayed like that for a long while, as stars began to blossom behind Aaron’s eyes, until Lafayette cleared their throat and they broke apart, dazed.
“Alex?” Aaron murmured, cupping the other boy’s cheek tenderly.
“Yeah?” Alex replied breathlessly.
“Can you please put some pants on?”
“Oh, shit, yeah. I’ll go do that.”
WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER <3
WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER <3: MADS WERE GONNA BE ROOMMATES!!!!!
WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER <3: HERES TO FOUR MORE YEARS!!!!
MAD(ISON) WORLD (YOU): Thomas that’s great!
DOLLEY
MAD(ISON) WORLD (YOU): PLEASE KILL ME
DOLLEY: What did he do this time?
“So how does it feel to know that you’re almost done with freshman year?” Herc asked, poking Peggy in the shoulder. Peggy just shrugged and took a bite of their sandwich.
“Weird. I’m excited about next year’s classes, though. I talked to Mister Tallmadge and he said I can take the espionage elective next year, even though it’s usually just for seniors.”
“Seriously?” Herc exclaimed, taken aback.
“Yeah. I’ll have to change my schedule around a bit, but I’m really excited. Who knows? Maybe I’ll work for the CIA someday. That’d be cool.”
“I-I,” Herc tried to say, blinking rapidly.
“Hold on; are you crying?”
“ No! I just.... I have something in my eye.”
Alex was paying the whole conversation absolutely no attention. “What if I nominated Adams?” He asked dryly, squinting at the prom court ballot box in the corner of the busy cafeteria.
“For prom king?” Peggy asked. They paused in the middle of their sandwich. “I mean, he’s dating Abigail. They’re like, the most stable couple in this school. If you’re gonna do it, you have to nominate both of them.”
“I’m gonna do it.”
“You do you, man.”
A CHORUS LINE
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): Yo martha congrats on the nomination
WAYLE OF A TALE: omg im so excited!!!!
LAMB: wait dolley who else got nominated???
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): Uhh
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): Okay prom queen noms are martha, mercy warren, abigail smith and…
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): Oh angelica schuyler whoda thunk it
LAMB: she's pretty attractive though
WAYLE OF A TALE: fair
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): and prom king noms are john adams, von steuben, and jefferson
LAMB: ugh jefferson
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): ^^^
WAYLE OF A TALE: ^^^
WAYLE OF A TALE: slim pickings this year i guess
LAMB: who nominated adams?
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): No clue
LAMB: von steuben is going with ben walker AND will north
WAYLE OF A TALE: ???
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): No way can they compete with MY two hot dates ;))))
LAMB: dolley…
DOLLEYFACE (YOU): ;)))))
MISS ADORABLE
MISS ADORABLE: JOHN.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: WHO NOMINATED ME FOR PROM QUEEN?
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): havent the foggiest
MISS ADORABLE: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: THE WHOLE IDEA OF ‘PROM QUEEN’ IS COMPLETELY MISOGYNISTIC.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: IT’S HETERONORMATIVE.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: PITS WOMEN AGAINST EACH OTHER.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: REINFORCES THE GENDER BINARY.
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): yes dear
MISS ADORABLE: DO YOU WANT TO SEE A PICTURE OF MY DRESS????
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION : yes dear
BATTLE OF THE BANDS (HAMILSQUAD 2.0 STOP JEFFERSON)
ALEX: PROM TONIGHTTTTT
HERC: SHIT!!! I DIDNT GET TO MAKE MY ‘AND THE PROMS TOMORROW JOKE!!!’
HERC: DAMMIT
LAF: you have brought shame on your whole family
LAF: the only way to restore your honor is a kiss from a noble ;))
ANGELICAAAA: Youre mixing it up, laf. Hell have to go on a three year quest to capture the avatar and restore his honor
LAURENS (´･ω･`): have fun at prom without me i guess…
LAURENS (´･ω･`): i suppose i’ll just waste away
LAURENS (´･ω･`): by myself
LAURENS (´･ω･`): ALONE
HERC: laurens chill well make it up to you
ALEX: has anyone seen eliza???
John scoffed and put his phone face down on the bedside table. If his friends were going to ignore him, he might as well ignore them back. It wasn’t like he was devastated to be missing prom - the cost of a ticket alone was enough to put him off - but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d been forgotten. Sighing, he picked up his sketchbook and flipped to a new page, where he began to sketch out the familiar form of a soft curving shell. John was a fan of turtles. Turtles didn’t have to deal with prom or douchebag fathers or any of this. They could just pull themselves in and tell the world to fuck off. They lived the dream.
There was a knock at the door and John looked up, surprised at what he saw.
Eliza Schuyler stood tentatively in the doorway, a backpack over one shoulder and a bouquet of balloons in one hand. She was dressed in a knee-length gown of floaty blue material and had a sheepish grin on her face.
“Wh-” John started to say.
“I felt bad that you couldn’t make it to prom,” Eliza replied quickly, cutting him off, “so I brought the prom to you! I couldn’t fit a punch bowl in my backpack, so I brought a pack of Capri Suns, and I’ve got the rest of the squad on Skype.”
John stuttered for a moment before finally replying, “You didn’t have to do all this. You should be out having fun.”
Eliza just rolled her eyes and went to tie the balloons to the end of the bed. “Please. Peggy can have enough excitement for the both of us. I’ve got two more years to watch horny teenagers grind on each other to bad pop music.”
“Still, you don’t have to-” John began, but Eliza unzipped her backpack and in one fluid motion removed a plastic IHOP bag.
“I brought pancakes.”
“Eliza, I know we’re young and that this is sudden, but will you marry me?”
“John, you’re gay. Like, not even bi, or pan, or anything. Straight up gay.””
“I’m not straight up anything.”
“I walked into that one, didn’t I."
“Aaaaand… video chat is go,” Alex announced as he bent the laptop backwards for everyone to see and giving John a good look at the gaudily re-decorated gym. The group sat outside of the gym, laptop balanced on a precarious stack of chairs.
“You’re not missing out on anything,” Angelica said dryly, glancing at the screen. “Von Steuben already has two warnings for ‘inappropriate dancing.’”
“Sounds wild,” Laurens replied, voice crackling over the connection. “Yo Laf, looking classy.”
Lafayette grinned affectionately, smoothing out the skirt of the floor-length violet gown they were wearing. “It is beautiful, non? ” They said, glancing at Herc, who let out a sigh of relief.
“It took me forever to make. The fabric was a bitch to work with, and I kept accidentally stabbing myself with pins, but I wanted it to be perfect.”
“Aww,” Laurens said sarcastically, but Lafayette was staring at Herc, starry-eyed. Without warning, they leaned across the table, grabbed Herc by the tie, and kissed the boy soundly on the mouth. Herc made a surprised noise, and the rest of the table fell silent, half shocked, half relieved that the whole ridiculous affair was finally resolved. After a long moment, Lafayette pulled away, leaving Herc dazed and smeared with lipstick.
“I fucking knew it! I fucking knew you two were dating!” Laurens screamed, sitting up in bed so fast he immediately cringed and clutched his ribs. The video screen fizzled from the sound, and Eliza immediately rushed to reposition the laptop.
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Lafayette said innocently, carefully reapplying their lipstick. “It is just le manière français.”
“It fucking is not,” Laurens coughed as he fell back onto his pillow.
“You're reading too much into things,” Herc said with a dopey grin as he pulled Lafayette into his lap, earning a delighted gasp from the Marquis. “We're just really good friends. Just bros being bros.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Je ne suis pas ton frère, mon amour.”
“It’s just an expression, Laf.”
The results of the election simultaneously surprised everyone and no one.
“Did you vote for John Adams?” Peggy asked Herc as the boy in question made his way nervously to the stage, looking dazed. Herc only shrugged in response.
“Well, yeah. Didn’t you?”
“Well. Yeah.” They looked over to Lafayette. “Did you vote for him?”
“Bien sur! They are... well, could you have thought of anyone else?” Lafayette asked.
Peggy stared at their cup of juice. “Do you think anyone didn’t vote for them?”
(No.)
Abigail Smith smiled, elated, for about thirty seconds as the crown was placed on her head before clearing her throat, removing a stack of notecards from the folds of her long-sleeved, blue-green dress, and stepping up to the microphone.
“Thank you, students of Union Heights for this prestigious honor. I would now like to tell you all why having a prom queen and king is archaic and enforces heteronormative ideas..”
“Miss Smith, the prom queen doesn't usually make a speech…”
“Well, we're all about breaking societal norms tonight, aren’t we Principal Washington?” Abigail said, eyeing the sizable amount of same-gender couples in the crowd.
Angelica hooted in approval from the crowd, slipping her hand around Maria’s waist. Maria grinned back.
“So are they like… going as friends?” Samuel Seabury asked, raising an eyebrow at the pair.
Charles Lee sighed and placed his cup of punch down on a nearby table before grabbing the other boy by the hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. “Samuel, they’re lesbians.”
Alex was almost having a good time, despite the obnoxious pop music blasting from the speaker right behind him and the mere idea that Samuel Seabury and Charles Lee were having a good time. He inched closer to Aaron, who was pouring himself a cup of punch.
“So, what are we supposed to do here? Dance?” Alex asked, looking around the crowded room.
Aaron shrugged. “I think so? Pretty sure the waltz is coming up soon.”
Alex pretended to gag. “Ugh, please don’t make me waltz - who the hell has the time to learn that kind of shit anyway?”
Aaron nervously took a sip from his drink.
“You learned how to waltz, didn’t you?” Alex asked, smiling slightly.
“It was an optional class in middle school! I thought it would be interesting!” Aaron said, defensively.
Alex snorted (oh god it’s adorable.) “Well, why don’t you teach me, Mister ‘I-learned-how-to-waltz-for-fun.’”
Lafayette swept by in their deep purple gown, accompanied by a grinning Hercules Mulligan.
“Smooth, Alex,” Mulligan said, reaching for a plate to pile with food. He turned to Aaron. “He knows how to waltz; Laf taught him and John for fun once. Ironic, because Laf’s terrible at dancing.”
Lafayette playfully swatted at Mulligan’s shoulder. “You are ruining, how you say, the moment? And I am not ‘terrible at dancing!’”
“Didn’t you, like, flee France in disgrace because some girl made fun of you for being so bad at dancing?”
“I will have you know I have taken several remedial waltz classes since then!”
Mulligan rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, buddy.”
Aaron looked over at Alex, who was blushing furiously. “If you wanted to dance with me, you could have just asked,” he said.
“Bonjour , y’all!” Jefferson strode towards the table, tailed by a forlorn looking James Madison and dressed in the gaudiest magenta suit Aaron had seen in his entire life, complete with 1800s cravat. Aaron had to blink to make sure someone hadn’t slipped something into the punch.
Nope, it’s just Thomas.
“Oh, and congrats on the RevFest win,” he said to the gathered jazz players. “It must have been a pleasant kind of.... distraction,” he finished spitefully.
Alex slammed his thankfully-empty cup onto the table, rolling up his sleeves. “Okay, you know what?!”
Aaron placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Alexander, no.”
“Alexander, yes, ” he hissed, striding towards Thomas, hell-bent on that kind of beautiful retribution seen only in the dramatic climaxes of movies. “He’s had this coming for a long time.”
Aaron sighed. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see it himself.
“Well, look who it-”
Thomas couldn’t finish before Hamilton had grabbed Thomas’ (undoubtedly expensive) frilly white necktie and pulled him in close. “You’re coming with me, cravat fucker,” the younger boy hissed, dragging a struggling Thomas behind him.
Aaron watched as James fruitlessly chased after the pair, before eventually deciding to just sit back and watch. What the hell, when else are you going to see this?
Aaron decided the only thing more satisfying than punching Alexander Hamilton was watching Alexander Hamilton punch someone else. Especially when that someone happened to be Thomas Jefferson.
“God, the nerve of that pedantic little shit. I cannot believe him.”
“I hear you. Can you tilt your head back or-”
“Oh yeah, sure. It’s just - ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault; it’s his. I fucking hate Alexander Hamilton so much, I can barely-” Thomas let out a deep sigh and dropped his hands, which had been clenched into fists, letting them unfurl half-heartedly.
“I know,” James replied, dabbing at the other boy’s lip with a wet paper towel, which came away bloody each time. The two were alone in the bathroom, the sounds of the party somewhat muffled by the tiled walls and rows of empty stalls.
“Ugh, I would love to just, like,” Thomas continued, wincing from the pain, “throw him into, like, a vat of manure. He wouldn’t die, but he wouldn’t be able to get the smell off for months. ”
“Uh huh,” James replied, falling back onto his heels and depositing the soiled paper towel in the garbage can. Thomas shifted in his position on the sink counter and gingerly poked at his mouth.
He flashed James a self-pitying grin. “How bad is it?”
“You’ll live,” James replied dryly, “but the kid can punch. You have a pretty bad split lip.”
“Hm.” Thomas considered this for a moment before looking up, cocky as anything, and asking, “Wanna kiss it and make it better?”
Something in James snapped. That’s it.
Something in him that was sick of all this. He was sick of the six years of saying nothing, the six years of seemingly innocent touches that could have been construed as romantic but never quite made the cut. He was sick of the six years of hearing Thomas babble on about this girl and that and sick of the realization that there would be four more years of this special hell, and then there would be jobs, and then there would be Thomas getting married , God forbid, and James couldn’t just sit there and let it all happen, couldn’t keep waiting for it. Even being rejected, being met with fear or disgust, losing Thomas forever, would be better than staying silent.
And so James Madison, in front of God and the world, braced his hands on the counter on either side of Thomas’s hips, went up on his tiptoes, and pressed one short, full kiss to the other boy’s lips.
Thomas tasted vaguely of blood, mint toothpaste, and punch and, thankfully, not one bit like macaroni and cheese. He let out a sort of surprised sigh that half sounded like James’s name and half sounded like nothing at all, and when James pulled away, he found Thomas staring at him with wide eyes and a dazed expression, seemingly at a loss for words. James scratched the back of his head, strangely calm about the situation and feeling exceedingly nervous about that fact. He let Thomas blink a few times and process what had just happened, not butting in, just letting the other boy formulate his own response. “You-” Thomas started.
“Yeah.”
“I mean-”
“Six years, yeah.”
Thomas’s eyes bulged, and he put his hand to his mouth before hesitating and leaving it untouched. “Six? That’s-”
“Ever since we met, yeah. It’s been rough.”
Thomas’s fingers slid into his own hair and tugged at the temple, which James knew meant he was frazzled beyond comprehension. “Seriously? Wow,” he managed anyway. “I-” he struggled for another moment, and James let him, even as the sinking feeling took hold in his gut. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was scared,” James replied, surprised that the answer came so easily to him. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to think you might lose your best friend because you had to fuck it all up by catching feelings?”
“Of course I do,” Thomas snapped, and his voice echoed in the tile room, probably harsher than he intended, but it stung anyway. “I’m sorry,” he continued, quieter this time. “I just… I had no idea.”
“I know,” James sighed. “You-” he was cut off by the strangled sob that Thomas let out as the other boy let his face fall into his hands. “God, Thomas, is it really that disgusting?”
“No! No- don’t ever think that,” Thomas commanded, looking up at him with red eyes. “I just- were you really in love with me for six years? God, I can’t believe- I mean, I’ve only felt this way since since sophomore year, and it’s excruciating. ”
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s just-” James began, resigned, before he realized what Thomas had just said. “Wait, what?”
Thomas didn’t hear him. He was wiping his eyes uselessly and muttering, “God, I’m so stupid,” between sobs, voice wrecked to the point where he could barely make himself heard.
“Thomas, what did you just say?”
His head jerked up, teary eyes refocusing. “Huh?”
“What did you say about sophomore year?”
“Oh.” Thomas bit his lip, immediately remembered his injury, cringed, and continued shyly, “that’s when I fell in love with you, I think. I don’t remember there being one thing you did; it just sort of happened. You were probably just being you one day, and I looked at you and thought, ‘oh.’ It’s you. Of course it’s you. Not very exciting, I know, but that’s how it happened.”
James considered pinching himself, but if this was a dream, he wouldn’t be standing in the boys’ bathroom listening to the muffled sound of bad pop music and chaperones yelling at the students outside getting a little too friendly on the dance floor. For a moment he couldn’t understand why Thomas was so upset - this was incredible! There was never any reason to worry after all; they’d found each other, finally.
Then it hit him. All those years, wasted, and they had been just inches away from each other. If only one of them had been brave enough to reach across the gap; it would have saved them so much pain.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” James demanded, reaching out and wiping a stray tear from Thomas’s cheek.
“I thought you were straight,” he said, reaching up and holding the hand against his face. “Hell, I thought I was straight, but that’s beside the point. I just never saw you dating guys, so-”
“I never dated anyone."
“Yeah, so then I started thinking that maybe you were aromantic and that it was just a moot point and I should get over it, but I didn’t. ”
“You could have asked me.”
“I was scared too,” Thomas exclaimed, chuckling slightly. “You were always so aloof; I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me prying, that you might take it the wrong way - well, the right way, I guess - and I was worried what might happen if you were, you know, interested, ‘cause it wouldn’t have been easy, I mean with my parents and everything, I-” he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and let go of James’s. “But that doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter what they think.”
James kept his hand where it was, cradling Thomas’s cheek, thumb making gentle circles on his soft brown skin. This was so not the way he had expected this night to play out, but thank god, he hadn’t lost anyone. He hadn’t lost Thomas.
“I’m so sorry,” Thomas went on. “I should have been braver, I should have said something, I-” he coughed, voice coming out scratchier than before. “I think I’m losing my voice.”
“Then stop talking,” James said gently, and for the second time that night, he closed the gap between them. This time Thomas melted into the kiss, like he was trying to force three years of unsaid declarations into the way his arms wrapped around James’s neck or the way his lips parted against his, pressing back with such fervor James feared he would drown. His hand left Thomas’s cheek and threaded into the other boy’s hair and tangled there, trapping the two of them together, where they belonged.
After what seemed like far too short a time, they finally broke away for air, and Thomas’s eyes had gone so half-lidded from the intensity James would have sworn that someone had slipped something into the punch. “Do you-” Thomas started, the English language suddenly a struggle, “do you want to get out of here?”
“God, yes,” James breathed, pressing a kiss at the corner of the other boy’s mouth as he murmured, “where should we go?”
“There’s a- uh meteor shower tonight,” Thomas replied breathlessly, struggling to find the words as James scattered kisses along his the skin of his cheek and jawline, which still tasted vaguely salty from the tears drying there. “I read about it in Mister Franklin’s almanac.”
“We’re in the middle of the city,” James murmured, trailing lower.
“I know a place.”
UNKNOWN NUMBER
UNKNOWN NUMBER: hey
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): who is this?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: wow did you delete my number??
UNKNOWN NUMBER: its
UNKNOWN NUMBER: its thomas
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): oh
UNKNOWN NUMBER is now THOMAS.
THOMAS: i just wanted to say congrats on the prom king thing
THOMAS: and uh
THOMAS: im really sorry
THOMAS: about that whole student council election thing back in sophomore year
THOMAS: i kinda acted like a dick
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): kinda?
THOMAS: 100% dick
THOMAS: i was a huge asshole
THOMAS: i recognize that now
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): oh well i accept your apology
THOMAS: WAIT REALLY???
THOMAS: OH MY GOD!!!! YOU WONT REGRET THIS I SWEAR
THE ADAMS ADMINISTRATION (YOU): oh i most definitely will
“I didn’t ever think I’d... y’know... ‘reveal my true feelings,’ ” James said, squeezing Thomas’s hand with his own. Streaks of silver light filled the sky above them as they lay in the dewey blanket of grass. Thomas’ suit was ruined, but Hamilton’s fists had already damaged it enough he didn’t seem to care about a few grass stains.
Thomas turned around, raising an eyebrow on his perfect but injured face. “Me neither.” His voice was unusually subdued.
“Really?”
Thomas flopped into the grass. “Oh, it was hell! Love is agony, James, writing my only confidant, yet it failed me -”
“Writing?” James echoed disbelievingly, the reality of Thomas’ confession hadn’t completely settled in yet.
“Sonnets, poetry, love letters, it could never be enough ...” Thomas trailed off, and if anybody else had said the same thing James would have bet everything he owned that they were being sarcastic.
But this is Thomas Jefferson. “You wrote me sonnets?”
Thomas rested his free hand on his forehead, like a dying character in a 17th century tragedy giving a heart-rending soliloquy. “But even they couldn’t show the true meaning behind my affections - words had failed me! James, you don’t understand! If writing couldn’t show my love, what could?”
Thomas Jefferson is upset about how much he pined after me.
This was going to take some getting used to.
“Can I read them?” James asked, staring at the open sky.
“Read what?”
James could never understand why these genius types were so stupid. “The sonnets, Thomas. Your poetry.”
Thomas bit his lip and oh god he didn’t stop being attractive when he was shy either. “But you have to understand, they couldn’t hope to express how much I love you!”
The mental image of Thomas Jefferson, draped across his ridiculous hallway-bed, wearing silken pajamas as he holds a tissue in one hand and a quill in the other, spouting off bad romantic poetry came all too easily to James’ mind.
Maybe James had too much practice with the idea of Thomas in pajamas.
Maybe he was trying to adjust to the fact Thomas had openly said he loved James through humor, which was totally a healthy coping mechanism.
A particularly bright meteor carved a streak across the sky.
“Make a wish,” James said, almost-halfheartedly. He only had eyes for Thomas
“I already got mine,” Thomas replied, a dopey smile spreading across his face.
James sighed. “That’s gay.”
He couldn’t help but smile as well Thomas pulled him into what was definitely not the last kiss of the night.
“Fucking finally you rubbery piece of shit - do you know how long I’ve waited to draw this fucking piece of fecal matter that pretends to be an animal?” John swore at the seal, which was happily resting on a rock, eyeing the water as the wheelchair bound boy cursed at it.
“John, calm down.” Eliza rested against John’s wheelchair, pleasantly ignoring the string of profanity spewing out of the boy’s mouth.
Maria and Angelica were oblivious to the whole scene. “Yeah, so I’m definitely doing the musical next year,” Maria was saying. “Also the new history teacher assigned this book to read over the summer. It seems kind of interesting; it’s a biography by this Lacamoire guy about the first secretary of treasury? Y’know, Li -”
John waved his sketchbook around in his left hand, causing Maria to dodge as a colored pencil slipped from John’s fingers at the speed of a small blue rocket.
“What’s wrong with it? I think it’s cute,” Peggy said, staring as the seal dove into the water.
“No it’s not I hate it - turtles are way better! At least turtles don’t try and run away from every single thing they see!” John hissed, scribbling out the sketch of the seal with furious vigor.
“It has my seal of approval,” Angelica added, sipping from a bottle of orange soda.
“No,” John groaned, continuing to stab the paper repeatedly with another pencil. After a few minutes of consideration and stabbing paper, John proclaimed, with utmost sincerity, “I’ve decided. I’m going to fight this seal.”
“Has anybody seen Aaron and Alex?” Eliza asked, deciding to ignore John’s declaration.
“Probably making out behind the crab display. That’s what the two of us did when we dated.”
“John,” Angelica deadpanned.
“Also sometimes the octopus display.”
“ John, ” Angelica pleaded.
Eliza looked up from her phone, sounding almost concerned. “Oh, really? He never went here with me; it was always Central Park.”
“Really? We went to the aquarium all the time!” John said, looking up from his paper.
Angelica looked around at the small group. “… Are Peggy and I the only ones here who haven’t kissed Alexander Hamilton?”
Eliza, Laurens, and Maria looked at each other, then at Angelica.
“Okay then,” Angelica said, turning back to her soda.
They were making out behind the penguin display, thank you very much. A particularly curious rockhopper had sidled up to the glass and was watching the two humans with interest, most likely wondering why the taller one seemed to be trying to suck the smaller one’s face off, before something else caught its attention, prompting a dive back into the water.
Aaron, oblivious to fact that they were inviting so much animal attention, trailed kisses down Alex’s jaw so he could lavish attention on the other boy’s neck. He revelled in the little breathless noises he was able to draw out, smiling as he moved to kiss Alex on the cheek.
His lips came away wet.
He pulled away quickly. Alex had averted his eyes and was furiously attempted to wipe the tears from his face. “Gee, am I really that bad at this?” Aaron said, trying to lighten the mood, but Alex didn’t so much as chuckle in response.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” he mumbled.
“Aw, hey, don’t think about that,” Aaron replied lamely.
“I have to,” Alex snapped. “I have to think about it. What are we gonna do?”
“I’ll come visit,” Burr said. “I can always shack up with the Schuylers, and you know my sister won’t pass up an opportunity to meet you. I can probably even convince my aunt and uncle to let me spent all summer in New York.”
“I know,” Alex grumbled, blinking away the last of the tears. “It just feels like everyone is leaving, you know? You, Angelica, Herc, Laf, God, even Jefferson. Don’t tell him I said that.”
“I won’t,” Aaron promised, reaching to push a strand of hair out of Alex’s face.
“Good.”
“We’ll figure it out, you know.”
“Hmph.”
“I’m serious. Me going to college isn’t going to change anything. If I know anything about you, it’s that you’re stubborn as hell.”
That got a small smile. “You think so?”
Burr took a breath and smiled back. “You’re worth waiting for.”
THE END*