Chapter Text
“Hello, Alexander!”
Alexander sighed. He had not the time for this mess. He sped up his pace down the hall, wanting to get as far from Jefferson as he could manage. Sadly, Jefferson did not know exactly when to give up his unreciprocated attempts at talking to those who wished not to speak with him (an odd thing in which he assumed that anyone with anything worthwhile to say would surely say it to him, but I- the author- digress.). Jefferson quickened his own pace to match Hamilton’s.
“Hamilton! Fancy seeing you today!” Jefferson tried again, his long stride easily bringing him to Alexander’s side. They matched pace, and with a sigh of exasperation, Hamilton accepted his defeat and eased his walk.
“Hello, Thomas..”
“Hello, Hamilton, my dear friend.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“But it is true, you are my dear friend.”
“And what of Adams?”
“He is my dearer friend.”
“Ah.”
The pair walked in silence, passing stores and people along the way, saying ‘good days’ and praises to those who did so to them. Jefferson seemed to relish in taking up the space beside Alexander, and with annoyance that equaled Jefferson’s cheer, Hamilton despised the situation. He wanted to find a quick way to get rid of the other as quickly as possible, but Providence seemed to not be in his favor today.
“It smells of rain, Alexander. Do you not have a parasol?”
“Is that why you’re carrying that? Also does it seem that I am holding one? I care not about some supposed patter of rain, it will only drizzle at most, no need for such an ugly thing.” He responded with a sharpness. He doubted there would be any rain at all and assumed that Jefferson merely wanted to show off his ugly (albeit interesting and mildly aesthetically pleasing) parasol, knowing his was of some higher quality than the majority’s. He wanted to roll his eyes.
“Hamilton. Alex-"
“Hamilton is fine. Or you can call me nothing at all.”
Thomas nodded. It was clear that he was losing his own patience.
“Hamilton ,” he started again, with a sharpness in his voice, “I want to invite you to my home in Virginia!” Thomas dropped his hand onto the smaller man's shoulder, Hamilton scrunched his face in disgust.
“Don't touch me.”
Jefferson did not remove his hand.
“Remove your hand, please.”
“Will you consider it? Staying at Monticello for a small vacation? A meager three days? Will you, mon ami?”
Apparently, Jefferson was deaf to demands he did not want to hear. A shame.
“And for what reason, might I ask, that you so desperately want me to bunker at your home? I see no reason for me to do so.” He responded, slyly trying to distance himself from Thomas and get to where he was going. If he wanted company, he would've taken Eliza or met with literally anyone else but Thomas. Jefferson stopped, which also stopped Hamilton (for he never took his damn hand off his shoulder), and looked at the other with a genuine smile. Even his eyes had a sparkle to them!
Alexander becomes wary.
“Hamilton, I'm pleased you agreed to stay the night! I’ll advice dear Eliza before the day is out.”
“Hold sir, I never-”
“This will be delightful. Being home for days of rest-”,
“Hold on! I didn't-”
“-and bachelor’s care with my…’ friend ’... Adieu, Hamilton, I will see you there!” and then he left. With childish joy, Jefferson departed quickly in another direction, leaving Hamilton alone on the walkway.
“That bastard... not even the devil himself could make him listen to a word. I detest men who don't listen.” he mumbled angrily to himself. During their walk, he had forgotten where he was going and was left to decide to make the venture home or to take a bit of a walk in hopes he'd remember where it was he was set to go.
Just then, a droplet hit him directly on the forehead.Thunder sounded. Lighting flashed. The sky opened up, and weeped upon Hamilton with torrents of rain, drenching his every inch with cold summer rain. He lifted his head to the sky with the urge to scream at it and damn the weather.
“Damn this weather! Damn that Thomas!” he shouted at the clouds. People were quickly retreating to shelter from the storm. He trudged his way through the storm and back home and lo- there upon his couch with his lovely wife, was that damn Thomas. He looked between them, Eliza stood quickly when she saw him, worried about his wet state.
“Alexander!”
“Eliza.”
“Look at you, oh you're soaked to the roots! Let me get you a towel so you don't catch a fever.” She kissed his cheek then waltzed off to do what she said. He looked at Thomas who sat with the smuggest, most bastardly smile he could muster.
“You’re looking rather drenched.”
“I know, Thomas.”
“I must say, the water adds a splash of color.”
“Thomas.”
“Come now, you shouldn’t dwaddle in wet clothes. You mustn't be lake in taking care of your health.”
“Stop speaking.”
“I'm sorry, you sound quite bitter. Your voice is dripping with anger.” Hamilton wanted to choke him right there on his couch.
“Have I offended you? Don't take what I to heart, it is all in jest.”
Eliza comes back into the room, a towel in her hands. She dabs his wet cheek with a part of the cloth, then drops it on his shoulders. In response to her gentleness, he thanks her for the gesture and plants a kiss on her cheek.
“Also, my love, you should know all he says should be taken like water off your back.” she kisses him again before he could notice her own joke at his sorry state.
“Et tu, Elizabeth?”
“You should change.”
“I will.” He pointed at Jefferson, who innocently sipped at his coffee.. “Keep him in your sites, who knows what hell he'll cause.”
She spared a small laugh, “That I will. Please refresh yourself.”
Hamilton left to freshen up, leaving the two alone. He could only wonder what thing Jefferson would humor his wife with. Hopefully, it was nothing that'd give her humor at the expense of her wit. He looked at himself.
Conclusion: he was not startlingly handsome, but by God did he have such a lovely nose.
Walking back to the family room, he heard them speaking with quick and hushed voices. He stalled to listen in.
“My dear, Eliza- Mrs. Hamilton, if you would consider it, it would be well worth the profit in the end.”
“If it is worth it, is not a concern for I know it will be but, my Alex...would he be pleased?”
“Pleased with what?” He asked when he appeared from his spot and into their conversation. Eliza and Thomas were seated on the couch again, facing another. His sudden presence gave them a start.
“Alexander…!” Eliza said with a shock as if he hadn't just been before her eyes a mere 20 minutes prior. Jefferson stood, opening his palms towards Alexander.
“Something that will greatly benefit you, my friend.”
“I'm not your friend, Jefferson, have you forgotten? And I also do not appreciate you both speaking of me without my knowledge.”
“We...we were speaking of your stay with Thomas. For the three days? I think it best for you, but I know of your distaste for Mr. Jefferson.”
“I do not wish to go. End of it. Leave my home Thomas.”
“Shame, I cannot for my ride does not appear for me until the morrow. And would you throw me into the rain like a lowly dog?”
“Absolutely.”
“Alexander! Why must you be so hostile to the man?”
“He is a damned hypocrite- "For the common man” he says yet he can have imported wine from France every Saturday? You should see this man, Eliza, he is the worst.”
“Well...that is true.” Eliza backed her husband. “But it will do you good to leave the city. To have country air in your lungs. He has been speaking of his garden and how full it is. It will be a good place for you to relax yourself. Mr. Jefferson has also promised that he would not disturb you for the days other than to alert you of meals. Isn't that right?”
Jefferson looked at her. He never said that. He was going to say that he had, in fact, never said that but she promptly stomped her heel on his foot before he could. His mind suddenly decided that what she said was just and should he say otherwise, his foot would not survive it.
“Yes. She is correct. I will not bother you. So...would you please?”
Hamilton’s eyes opened quickly. Upon his nose stood a bird of a light gray, with dark rings around its neck. It looked at Hamilton quizzically, tilting his head from side to side, staring with wide, round black eyes.
But to Hamilton’s sleep slowed mind, it looked like his sweet wife. He responded to ‘her’ in the proper way a husband should when his wife wakes him in such a manner.
“Good morning Elizabeth. You are stunning as always. “ he said drowsily to the apparition. Only when the image before his eyes cleared and he realized his mistake, did he grasp what was occurring: there was a bird sitting on his nose.
The bird did not move.
Alexander then wondered if he had left the window open in the night and if this was the profit. He wanted to remove the bird (its talons did hurt upon his face so) but then the dear creature amazed him: it tilted its tiny head back, opened its beak, and let out a short song. It was sweet (this Alexander would admit to Gilbert later in a letter of distress about being lured into the Jefferson home) full of happiness and genuine, animal centric love.
‘ This ’, he would later describe in his letter, ‘was the most heartfelt welcoming of my fatigue plagued person to the God-given morn that I ever had the human pleasure to receive.’
After the song had ended, the bird flew from his face and landed on the desk chair across from the bed. It twittered at him in a call to raise him from the mattress. It hopped along the back of the chair, hopped onto the desk and pecked at the diary page that Alexander had left open before retiring the night before.
‘ Clearly, ’ He would write in it later, ‘ the dear animal was wise to the working of a man such as myself. The need to write passages in the morn, the after-noon, and the deep night it appeared to be familiar with. How smart.’
“ I see. I see. You wish me to rise and to rise, I shall.” With a grunt, he got up from the bed and walked to the writing desk, where the bird sang again. Twas a pleasant experience he was succumbed to.
The doorknob turned, startling the just woken man. Without warning, Thomas walked in, cane in hand and smile on his face.
“Good morning, Alexander.” He said with cheer. He was happy, clearly, for the company of someone outside his immediate family, which Alexander felt a bit sad to dwell on for too long. He chose not to dwell on it for long, and responded with a kindness, for it was morning and the day had started smoothly, why should he be rude?
“Same to you, Thomas.”
Jefferson smiled, then an excited tweet caught his attention. He began a small walk to the desk, sticking a finger to the bird, who happily obliged him by perching on the digit. He looked upon the bird with a significant softness and ardor. It was clear his love for the bird was beyond some sort of human comprehension.
“I see you've met my dear companion. Hopefully he was a pleasure to you this morning; he always brightens my otherwise dull ones.”
He put the small animal on his shoulder,where it started another quaint song for them both. Jefferson looked quite proud of the pet and its singing. Hamilton crooked a smirk.
“Yes, he was quite a treat. I enjoy his company quite well- perhaps his owner should learn from him.”
“ Oh Hamilton- I own him not. He is a free spirit residing in my home and to claim ownership of his being would be blasphemous.”
“You have a heart for him.”
“That I do. That I have.”
Hamilton nodded. He suddenly remembered himself and his dress and felt a tiny embarrassment and even Jefferson could feel this as well. They both could not claim to be the purest or the godly and perfect men, but they did have some shame.
Jefferson cleared his throat.
“I will see you at breakfast. I shall leave you."
“Thank you.”
At the breakfast table, the two sat apart, facing one another. Hamilton paid attention to the windows and what sat outside them. Flowers of bright hues and sweet smells sat below the panes as butterflies of yellows and blues fluttered about them as did honey bees in happy buzzing collecting pollen. It was peaceful. For once, Hamilton felt at peace.
“Are you enjoying my home?”
“I am. It is a beautiful set you have.”
“Thank you, I pride myself on it. Beauty attracts beauty, and I am a simple man.”
“Who loves beauty.”
“What man doesn't?”
They sat in silence once more, eating their meals. Jefferson wrote something in his journal, as Hamilton recalled the previous activities of the morning. He sucked in a breath.
“You know...I've never met a man who bore as much heart for an animal since Adam in the days of Eden. You are quite the man, Jefferson. A sure enigma of a human; leave me guessing of you.” Did it sound too much like he was applauding him? He hoped not.
Jefferson perked, brows raised in surprise. He stopped writing and met eyes with his guest.
“Was that a compl-”
“Do not flatter yourself. It was an observation.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Alexander. I appreciate it.”
“It wasn't a compliment.”
“D'accord.”
Jefferson was smiling up a storm as he finished his plate and coffee. Alexander wished he said nothing at all.
Later, the two were in their respective areas: Hamilton inside the library and Thomas somewhere down the hall harping away on his violin. Alexander was glad for the distant noise as he nosed through Thomas' collection of books. While he enjoyed books, he was not at all interested in what literature the other man had, but was more so in the workings of Thomas Jefferson’s mind and what drove him to fill notebook upon notebook of notes and observations of his home. Was it for simple record keeping? Was he bored in his home? His children lived with him so surely that could not be the case? Hamilton didn't know what to make of it other than the fact that Thomas, with his heart and being, loved nature. More specifically, Thomas loved mockingbirds. He loved mockingbirds.
He wrote much about them in his notes that pertained to avians, and often they were more like well informed ramblings of how gracious the birds are and how they could even be angels or gods in disguise. Hamilton thought it interesting to be so invested in such a thing, but each man had his own habits and loves- even a bastard like Thomas.
He placed a book back on its place on a shelf. He stepped into the middle of the room and looked over the entire place: the well made shelves fully stocked with books both handwritten and properly published, the neatness of the room, the brightness from the sunlight- it all gave Alexander an odd pang of pain in his chest.
What was it? He went to find Jefferson.
Alexander followed the music of Jefferson’s violin, which lead him down the hall and into the large parlor. There he saw Thomas with his pet, playing the violin and making fun noise. Hamilton watched them from a distance, noting that when Thomas played a tune, the bird would follow in response with matching the note. It was like a sort of musical game they were playing and no matter how high or low he played, the bird would follow with an ease. Alexander was thoroughly impressed with the display, though flamboyant, it was enjoyable.
When there was pause in the game, Hamilton clapped, the sound echoing in the spacious room. It was awkwardly loud and brash after the melodious sounds from before and Alexander wished he had done something cooler. Jefferson bowed anyway.
“That was a show.”
“An enjoyable one, I presume?” Thomas responded, putting away his instrument into its proper casing. The bird flew from his shoulder, circled around, and replaced itself on Thomas' shoulder.
“It was,yes. I heard it in the library.”
“Apologies for the interruption.”
“I never said it was an interruption. I enjoyed the sound.” Hamilton walked into the room and over to where the violin rested on a table. He touched it. The wood was well polished and had a nice human heat to it, the color was a fine mix of varied browns that almost made it look red. It was well taken care of by Jefferson, much like everything else that resided on his lot.
“Why did you put it away?” He asked. They were very close, apparently. Very, very close. Closer than they should be for two people that detested one another. Hamilton did not look at Jefferson, Jefferson looked down at him.
Height difference of about 5 inches. Not that big right? Incorrect.
“It isn't something to please a guest with, for I am no performer.”
“You play as if you are. That counts for something, sir.”
Then there was silence. Only breathing between them.
“Hamilton, look at me.”
He stalled, giving a harder, longer stare at the violin. He looked up at Thomas. How strange, the two of them were. For a moment, they connected- the air about them did not feel odd or different to suit separate tastes, but felt equalled.
Their eyes met and locked. Did Jefferson always have such short lashes? Where they always this thick? Jefferson wondered if Hamilton always had such a nice nose.
Jefferson moved forward and put his hands on Alexander’s shoulders. He leaned forward, making a move. It took Alexander a second too long to realize what exactly Thomas was trying to do.
“Wait a minute what are you doing?”
“What do mean? I'm trying to kiss you.”
Hamilton stepped back. Confused.
“Why?”
“I thought that's what you wanted! I thought we were connecting!” Thomas responded with confusion. He really thought they were connecting.
“What gave you the idea I wanted to kiss you!? I would never!”
“You were giving me the eyes, Hamilton!” Thomas defended himself, “You were giving me the eyes.”
“ The eyes ?”
“The eyes.”
Hamilton shook his head in disbelief. Thomas put his hands on his hips and sighed.
“ I should've stayed home. I should have stayed home.”
“You should've.”
The bird twittered sadly.
“Would you get that animal out of here? Its song is sweet but now it will only be a nuisance.” This tipped Jefferson’s attitude.
“Say what you want about me or your situation, but you will not jeer at my dear Dick!”
Hamilton blinked at the sentence. Had he heard that right?
Hamilton questioned him. “You named your bird… Dick?”
Thomas found the question odd. “What's the matter with Dick? It's short for Richard.”
Hamilton looked at him. He nodded.
“Okay then. You and..Dick.. enjoy your day. I'm going out.”
“Where?” Jefferson asked him as Hamilton headed for the door.
“Out.”
“But where?”
“Are you my mother now? I am going for a walk. I'm a grown man who needn't say where he shall be.”
Jefferson clicked his tongue.
“Bye then. It will be unlocked.”
“Bye.”
Hamilton left with a fury the door slamming after him. Jefferson plopped into a chair with Dick at his side and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed deeply.
He felt bad. He was alone.
“Dick..why is it that those who look for love are met with none, but those who wish not for it, find it upon their stoop? Why must I be alone?” He asked his tiny companion, who chirped a short response. Jefferson seemed to understand him.
“You are right. I am not alone for I have you and the children but, even they have left me lonesome for the moment. I wish Martha were here to see you, she'd love you more than I can express.” he breathed out and reclined, “Oh Martha, when shall I see you again?” he closed his eyes. Dick chirped again, Thomas laughed at him.
"Hamilton? My friend? In a way, yes."
Hamilton was not partial to guilt in this moment. As he walked the market streets and passed by friends and lovers, he felt guilty. Not guilty for stopping Jefferson, but guilty for thinking the two of them could be friends. He knew that the two of them could never be so close, yet he let it be thought that they could.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to see Eliza and his boys .
He needed to go back to Monticello.
He needed to...do something there. Damage control?
He looked at the sky and groaned, then he begrudgingly trudged back to Monticello and Thomas.
When he returned, he swung the door open with force, ready to confront Thomas and apologize but...he was met with quite a sight that gave him a scare. Jefferson was sitting in a chair hands folded and his eyes closed. His position relaxed and his breathing was nearly unnoticeable.
Hamilton rushed over to check on him. Jefferson was a pretty old man, about 14 or so years older than he, so him dying at random would not be too shocking but Hamilton couldn't really take another sudden death after being the last person to speak to the deceased. It'd be bad luck.
“Thomas?” He shook him. He didn't wake up. He looked around, then shook him again. The man stirred, drowsily, he asked Hamilton what he was doing.
“I thought you were dead.”
“Why would think that?”
“Because you're old.”
“I'm not old, Alexander. I'm only…hmm.”
“Only what?”
“I forget.”
Hamilton scoffed at him then walked off. He asked about Dick’s whereabouts. Thomas said that he could be eating in his cage.
“Cage? I thought you said he isn't your pet.”
“Even gods need cages, mon ami.” Thomas joked. He really did not see Dick as a pet, but he did want to keep an eye on him when he had too many guests.
He was going to say more, but Hamilton chimed in.
"Oh Jefferson, before I forget- I'm sorry."
"What? Say that again, Hamilton. I'm an old man, my hearing is not what it used to be."
Hamilton sighed. "I said that I apologize."
"For?"
"For leading you to think we could be friends."
Thomas laughed at that. He laughed heartedly at Hamilton’s heartfelt apology and how clueless he was. Hamilton grew annoyed at this.
"Why are you laughing? I am being serious!"
"I know and that is why I am laughing! Hamilton, for one so smart when it comes to books, you are quite slow to everything that is not."
"What do you mean?" Alexander challenged. Thomas sat up in his seat.
"Alexander, we are friends. Not in the conventional way, but we are. You haven't noticed it yet. It's only been two days and we've become friends."
"Us? Friends?"
"It's more likely than you think, Alexander."