Chapter Text
Madison sighs, attempting and failing to hold in a sneeze. Whenever he got sick, it got just a little harder to write. But he would never let that hold him back. Especially now, when he’s busy helping Jefferson with an essay against Hamilton. And not only does he agree with Jeff Boy’s views, but he also wants to do it just for the sake of lending his friend a hand. Honestly, at this point, he would write his own obituary if it pleased Jefferson.
Wow, how helpless has he become? It's like Jefferson has taken over every sensible part of his brain.
He grumbles out some curses as he feels his eyes drooping. But he can't fall asleep and have Jefferson find him and his unfinished assignment in the morning. He can’t let that happen.
Minutes later, he’s leaning his cheek against his fist, his breathing becoming shallower. He suddenly jumps, hearing a rap at his office door.
“Come in!” he says quickly, trying to organize the myriad of papers on his desk.
The door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Jefferson in his signature maroon. He yawns, rubbing his eyes. “You done yet, James?’
Madison swallows, looking at all the work he has yet to finish. “Yeah, I’m close.”
“Thanks again for doing this, James. It’s a big help,” Jefferson says with a smile. It makes Madison’s heart flutter. Frankly, he wishes he could murder his heart for forcing all these unwelcome feelings upon him.
“Yeah, anything for you, Thomas.” Shit, how homosexual did he have to make that sound?
“Aww, Maddy... My heart,” he mumbles, dramatically bringing a hand to his heart. Madison can’t help it; it brings a lovestruck grin to his face. He quickly looks away, terrified at his own emotions.
When he looks back at Jefferson, it appears as if he still has something to say. He’s quietly lingering in his doorway, biting his lip with his gaze cast to the side. He seems to realize that Madison is looking at him, because he suddenly clears his throat. “So, uh… You need any help with that? I could throw in a few obscenities directed toward embarrassing the hell out of Hamilton.”
“Uh, yeah. You should probably add your own touch to it.”
Jefferson nods with an unreadable expression as he walks over to Madison. He places his hands behind his back, leaning over the small mass that is James and reading his essay over his shoulder. He nods as he skims through the few hundred words which Madison thinks aren’t good enough.
“That’s--” he starts but is cut off by a sneeze from Madison.
“Sorry,” he mumbles with a defeated sigh.
Jefferson’s eyes go wide with guilt. “Oh, no. Are you sick again? You’re not planning to stay up all night, are you?”
Madison flushes. It was both humiliating and disconcerting how Jefferson could almost always figure him out. It’s almost like he knew Madison better than he knew himself. That actually doesn’t seem too unlikely.
“...Perhaps.”
“Aww, no, Jemmy. That’s not what I wanted,” Jefferson says, kneeling on the floor so he could be of similar height to Madison. His face is full of pity as he looks at his friend like a mother would her dying child. He couldn’t comprehend the strength Madison had to have in able to endure all the illnesses he procured. Jefferson knew that he would drop dead if he had such a shitty immune system. “C’mon, James. You need to rest.”
“But,” he complains, “I need to finish writing your essay.”
“Your wellbeing is more important than that,” Jefferson says softly, taking his hands and pulling him out of his chair. Madison blushes at the contact as he is led to his bed, and Jefferson hums quietly as he pulls the covers up to his chin.
“Goodnight, James. And don’t worry about that essay. I’ll finish it just fine.”
Madison nods, his eyelids fluttering down. A small smile appears on his face. “Goodnight, Thomas.”