Chapter Text
John Laurens could hardly remember a time when Alexander Hamilton hadn’t been there. Hadn’t been by his side. He fit so seamlessly into the previous dynamic of three, turning the trio into a quartet over beer and laughter. Alex’s ambitions were infectious, leaving the group powerless, unable to do anything but join him, whether for a beer, a night out on the town, or in the yearning talks of going to war.
I’ve known him less than a fortnight, but I would be willing to follow him anywhere, even if to death. The thought, the realization, passing gentle and quick as a breeze, made John choke on his drink.
Lafayette pulled back, moving his own drink to safety, while Hercules laughed and gave John a few jarring slaps to his back, almost upsetting the glass still clutched in his hands.
But Hamilton, soft smile on his perfect lips, looked amused, and John worried he had spoken his thoughts out loud.
I must be careful. This one is observant.
John was never one to heed his own advice. And Lafayette wasn’t helping.
Alexander had invited them all over to his small place, probably to show off the books he had accumulated. But no one seemed to care the reason. Least of all John. The group downed the last of their beers and followed Alex out into the night.
Less than five minutes later, Lafayette stopped with a dramatic hand to his forehead. “I am forgetful. I must decline my acceptance. I have a previous engagement.”
“Maybe some other time, then,” Alexander said.
“Yes. Some other time.” He shuddered. “I am distrustful of these streets past dark. Herc, may I beg your accompaniment?”
“Whatever you say, Laffy.”
Lafayette narrowed his eyes at the undignified nickname that only came out when Hercules was sloshed.
Together, Alexander and John watched Lafayette walk away, Hercules stumbling along a step behind.
“I think that was for the best.” Alexander turned to resume walking. “Do you have someplace you’d rather be, too, John?”
“No?” He realized that this was the first time he had truly been alone with the man. Who was now walking away from him. John hurried to catch up. His head felt fuzzy and his throat dry. The aftereffects of too much drink. He really needed to cut back. He needed all his wits about him if he expected to do anything other than bore Alex with his presence. “It’s a nice evening.” Yeah, way to not bore him by talking of the weather.
“Yes.” A hint of amusement colored his voice. “My place isn’t well insulated, I’m afraid. The lingering heat of the day is always well-appreciated.”
John nodded, even though Alex wasn’t looking at him. This is a mistake kept repeating in his head. He needed to find an excuse to not do this. To not be alone with him. Alexander would be disappointed, but he would get over it. He could show off his things to his friends another day.
But Lafayette had already covered the stupid-excuse category. How could John excuse himself without looking like he didn’t want to be in Alex’s company? Because he did. He did so badly it scared him, churning his stomach and making him feel light-headed.
So caught up in his thoughts, John neglected to watch his steps, catching the toe of his shoe on the uneven cobble, tripping him to his knees. Instead of thanking the ground, he let out a string of curses, his foot cursing right back at him.
Alex was immediately by his side, kneeling in dirt. “What happened, are you okay?”
“Twisted my ankle.” John tested it with his weight, wincing and letting out a gasp even though the pain was fading. “I think I must beg your forgiveness and take my leave.”
“What? Why?”
Thinking it obvious, John gestured down at his leg.
“We’re closer to mine than yours. You can rest up a bit before you go. The night is still young, right?”
John returned Alexander’s infectious smile. “The night is still young.”
***
John still felt light-headed. Though it probably had something to do with Alex’s arm wrapped around his waist, helping to keep the weight off a foot that no longer hurt.
Still high from the alcohol and now Alex’s closeness, John let himself be led the three remaining blocks and up a short flight of stairs.
Alexander’s apartment was small. But to hear him talk of it, it sounded like a mansion. He didn’t talk often about his past, but he didn’t come from much. Of that John was certain. He took a perch on a chair just inside the door, a queasiness in his stomach causing him concern.
“Are you okay?” Alexander asked him as he locked the door.
Not now, John willed for the ache in his stomach to subside. “No,” he was able to choke out, the only warning Alex would get before John vomited at their feet.
***
John cracked open his eyes. He was curled in the fetal position on a couch he didn’t recognize, a thin blanket covering him. Despite the lack of windows and lack of a timepiece, he could tell the time was late.
Alexander.
With vomit on his shoes.
John groaned and wondered if he could sneak away, then avoid Alex for the rest of his life. But no. That would be cowardly. He sat up carefully, his head and stomach behaving themselves. A glass of water rested on a table next to him and he took a cautious sip before downing the whole glass.
The blanket fell back, letting in the night chill, and John realized he was terribly underdressed. His waistcoat absent and his feet bare. Did that make him a hostage?
John looked around and spied a soft glow from a room around the corner. Was Alex still awake at this ungodly hour?
He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself, trying to preserve some form of modesty. He found Alex, hunched over a desk that barely had enough room for paper and inkwell, scribbling away. His quill only briefly pausing to gather more ink before joining the paper once again.
John watched, not wanting to interrupt Alexander’s thoughts, content with observing from afar. The light from the lantern cast a warm glow over his skin and made his hair look the color of dancing fire.
With a flourish that could only be a signature, Alex put his quill down. “I know you’re there.” He turned in his chair. His face didn’t hold its usual amusement when addressing a friend.
“Sorry,” John stammered out. “About your floor. And shoes. I overdrank, and it will not happen again.” A hint of Alexander's smile made him relax a little. “What time is it?”
“Umm…” Alex turned back to his desk and stared at the mess a moment before lifting up several papers.
John stopped lingering in the doorway and came closer as Alexander found his watch.
“It appears to be just after two in the morning.” His fingers busied themselves straightening papers, thought it appeared to just be moving one messy pile into another messy pile.
John cleared his throat, causing Alexander’s fingers to still, but he didn’t turn. “I fear I have overstayed my welcome.”
“Nonsense. Besides,” he finally turned, “your clothes aren’t fit for travel and neither is the hour.” His dark eyes, when they finally met John’s, captured him, like a moth in a spider’s web. Alex stood.
The air in the room seemed to change, so thick that John could practically taste it. He saw an unfamiliar uncertainty cross Alexander’s eyes. He’d felt the change, too.
“Are you afraid of me?” Alexander’s words were almost too fast, too quiet, to catch.
John had to wet his lips in order to speak. “Never.”
Gaze unwavering, Alex walked the few feet to stand before him.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
“Do you want me to?” Alex fired back, a small smile at the corner of his mouth, as if prepared to turn the whole thing into a joke if John wanted.
All John needed to do was laugh and step back, break the spell, and things would go back to normal between them. Only a half step separated them. John took it.
TBC?