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"Buy you a drink?" Lafayette's voice cuts across Washington's awareness, low and light with humor. He’s materialized at Washington's side as though from thin air, appearing in one of the few lulls between meandering conversation.
Washington generally despises diplomatic events. A dozen times during the past several hours he has entertained fantasies about slipping out and not returning. His only consolation is that for once he is not fielding this endless gala alone. His entire senior staff was invited, and amid unfamiliar faces he’s been able to mingle with more welcome company.
Even among the strangers he’s found a handful of pleasant interactions. The night has not been a complete waste.
"It's an open bar," Washington answers, but he is smiling as he follows Lafayette toward the long table covered in a tall forest of bottles. "And the Launii don't believe in money."
"You take the fun out of everything," Lafayette mutters. When they reach the table, he waves a greeting at the sturdily androgynous figure managing the glassware. "Two sunbursts, please."
The bartender nods and, without so much as a change in expression, mixes them matching concoctions with truly spectacular swirls of colors and ingredients.
Washington accepts his without drinking, quirking one eyebrow and watching Lafayette take an appreciative swallow.
"How much alcohol is in these?" Washington turns his gaze once more across the crowded ballroom and moves for a quiet patch of wall.
"Oh, a significant amount." Lafayette grins. "Best to pace yourself."
"Hmm." Washington takes a cautious sip. The drink is delicious, but even without Lafayette's assurance he would know to tread with caution. The boozy undertone is potent and unmistakable.
His eyes track the crowd, unhurried and more at ease now that he has a friend by his side. With Lafayette talking to him, he makes a less appealing target for the well-dressed clusters of diplomats and politicians. His crew seem to be enjoying themselves too. There's Peggy, surrounded by a circle of medical practitioners and laughing so loud her voice carries clear across the room. Eliza, equally surrounded though Washington doesn't know by whom, wearing a genuine smile rather than her more bland polite expression.
And of course there is Hamilton. A supernova of energy who looks more like he's giving a speech than attending a party. It has taken considerable willpower for Washington to keep a discreet distance from his boy tonight, but he’s managed. More or less.
"So." The humor in Lafayette's voice is undercut by sincere curiosity. "I've been trying to find a subtle way to ask, but I give up: is there a reason Commander Church is angry with you?"
Washington arches both eyebrows and turns to follow Lafayette's glance across the room, to where his second-in-command holds her own smaller court of the most important dignitaries this party has to offer. She hasn't spoken to Washington once tonight—hasn't said more than two words to him outside the line of duty in over a week—and he’s beginning to wonder if she will ever warm to him again. She's not normally vindictive, not one to hold a grudge, but she is terrible at hiding her displeasure.
Some mischievous instinct makes Washington ask, "What makes you think she's angry?"
Lafayette scoffs, incredulous, and Washington chuckles. He shouldn't make light of his first officer's upset. He's likely to suffer further consequences before she forgives him. Washington has never known anyone as capable of lacerating an officer with nothing but harsh words and a disapproving look, and he doesn't relish being on the receiving end of such an ordeal.
But his entire soul has felt lighter since she learned the truth and chose not to force his hand. As though guarding the secret so fiercely was weighing him down, and allowing her into his confidence—however unwillingly—has made it just a little easier to breathe.
"You do know why she's cross," Lafayette surmises. "You wouldn't joke about it otherwise."
"Yes," Washington says.
"Well go on. Don't keep me in suspense."
Washington briefly considers not answering. A week ago—before his confrontation with Church—he would certainly have entertained a qualm or two about telling Lafayette the truth. After all, he has demurred at every opportunity so far. Lafayette is his closest friend, and has made it clear half a dozen times that he recognizes his general's distraction. That he knows the source of Washington's distress. But at every offer of secrecy, Washington has withdrawn instead of allowing himself the candor Lafayette would clearly welcome.
Tonight he finds himself inclining a different direction.
He braces himself to speak words he has never yet said aloud.
He keeps his voice low, but can't quite smooth the rough gravel of feeling. "She knows I'm in love with Colonel Hamilton, and she’s unhappy to be doing nothing about it."
Lafayette stares at him in unmasked shock, and it takes several seconds for him to respond. "She knows?"
Washington doesn't immediately answer. There's further information he could offer, yes, but for the moment he is more focused on the warmth in his chest. The strangely giddy sensation twisting inside him at actually saying the words. There should not be such a vast difference between recognizing the truth and speaking it aloud, but there's new lightness beneath his skin. Even more so than his relief following Angelica's acquiescence. He has chosen to share this truth with Lafayette, and the experience is more freeing than he ever could have predicted.
He can’t decipher why Lafayette abruptly looks hurt, until the man admits, "I cannot believe you told her, when you have so very stubbornly refused to tell me."
Ridiculous to laugh, but Washington barks a startled burst of amusement before lowering his voice. "I didn't tell her. She surmised."
"And how in God's name did you convince her not to file a report?"
Washington shrugs. "I asked her nicely?"
Lafayette snorts, nonplussed. "Not nicely enough to subdue her temper, apparently."
Washington's eyes cut once more across the ballroom, finding Hamilton without conscious intent. His boy is gesturing ferociously with one hand, eyes sparkling brightly, and his voice has risen so that Washington can almost make out his words.
Belatedly he remembers Lafayette is still standing beside him, and Washington averts his gaze and takes a small sip of his drink. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see."
"Hmm," Lafayette agrees, and takes a longer drink of his own.