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(July 6th, 1778)
Light shines through the thick foliage of the trees, casting leaf-like shadows on their faces and giving protection from the unforgiving summer sun. Branches snap beneath the feet of the horses, with each clop of their hooves. Sweat sticks to Laurens’s forehead, the moisture causing his breeches to cling to his body uncomfortably. He resists the urge to tear every article of clothing off his body. If only for the sake of propriety.
He thinks of cool river water and light currents dreamily, of swimming until his bones tire and his muscles burn. A smile graces his face as he imagines finally scrubbing the grime from his unwashed body, ridding himself of the stench that seemed to pervade nearly everyone in the camp.
Meade rides in front of him, his coat shed and hands seeming to itch for his cravat. He is far from the only one, Hamilton and Mchenry having taken off both an hour beforehand. Laurens would do the same were it not for the bruise in his right shoulder, and the reprimand he would receive from Hamilton for “straining himself”.
“Lord, how much longer do we have? At this rate I'll melt into a puddle.” Meade grumbles lowly receiving a stifled chuckle from Tilghman. Harrison turns to them offhandedly, looking to the map with squinted eyes.
“The river should be approaching in the next mile, it shan’t be too long before we arrive,” Harrison announces, confidently.
Excitement fills the air, and the aides chat merrily ahead of him; all except Harrison who turns back to his conversation with the General.
“I take it you are excited, Laurens?” Alexander says, a grin sitting passively on his face. Laurens blushes slightly, not having realized he was smiling.
“Aye, the weather is overbearing and it has been too long since I’ve last bathed,” he replies good-naturedly, causing Hamilton to chuckle slightly.
“That could be said for any one of us, I doubt even the generals keep proper hygiene nowadays,” Alexander replies, a small frown grows on his face, ”especially since Monmouth.”
Laurens grimaces at the reminder. His hands tighten around the reigns of his horse, knuckles turning white. His shoulder a painful reminder as it is. The stinging loss of failure and rage to the man responsible ever fresh in his mind.
Lee
A hand clasps his arm gently, avoiding the injury.
“Calm down, John. The battle is over, we salvaged it the best we could.” Alexander says softly, ocean eyes boring into his. A flash of mutual understanding crosses his eyes, and John nods gently. They could groan and denounce the cowardice shown at Monmouth another day, for now, they should enjoy themselves.
Alexander pulls away, though his eyes remain on John, peeking through his lashes. John swallows, suddenly remembering the other reason for his excitement. His face heats, the culprit something entirely separate from the weather. Alexander smirks, having successfully flustered John with a single look, and turns away smugly; a cat who got the cream.
A sudden gasp interrupts them and the aides turn to Tilghman sharply.
“I think that be the river!” Tilghman exclaims, lifting himself slightly off the horse for a better view. Meade does the same, letting out a laugh.
“ Lord , look at the size of it!” he gasps, sitting back onto the saddle.
Laurens has to agree, it is quite the sight.
The horses stop amongst a clearing, allowing the aides to take in the view. Water rushes from one side of the stream to another, leaving dashes of white where there would otherwise be nothing but dark green liquid. Although the water is dark, Laurens sees that the river tapers off on one end, making a shallow pool that looks to be about knee-deep. Large stones and fallen leaves decorate the water, John noting a particularly big rock towards the shallow side of the river. Its peaceful, calm, and relaxing. After the disaster at Monmouth, this is exactly what John needed
They hop off the horses excitedly, Meade all but galloping towards the river. Hamilton removes his waistcoat hurriedly, tossing it to the side. They come upon the clearing but Harrison steps in front of their path. He sends them a stern look, placing both hands on his hips.
“Be on your best behavior, boys. Remember that you are still aides to the General Wasington, so act like responsible men and-”
“Old secretary indeed.” Meade mumbles under his breath, causing Tilghman to shake with suppressed laughter.
“I heard that, sir.”
“At your age?”
Harrison sputters and the aides burst into fruitful laughter. Hamilton leans on Laurens left shoulder, cackling and Mchenry holds his stomach as he wheezes.
“You are older than I am!”
“I find that hard to believe sometimes,” Hamilton wheezes out, hitting his chest for air. Laurens chuckles heartily, unbuttoning his waistcoat slowly.
“Have some fun for once Harrison, it isn’t every day we get to bathe in a river such as this,” Laurens says earnestly, dropping his waistcoat to the side. Hamilton’s eyes follow the piece of clothing, as if in consideration. Harrison grumbles under his breath but holds his tongue, for now at least.
“Now that we’re all in agreement, may we please swim?” Meade prompts, hands inching towards his breeches. Harrison sighs, defeated, before nodding.
There’s no need to tell him twice.
The aides begin stripping, some being more shy than others; Mchenry faces away to the trees, avoiding their eyes. Hamilton shows no shame, removing all but his small clothes with little to no hesitation. Laurens tries not to stare too hard, though from the smile on Hamilton’s face he seems to have failed.
Tilghman and Meade run to the shallow side of the river, not daring enough to test the deeper waters. A short formation of rocks causes a waterfall to flow towards their end and Meade slips himself under the current, laughing. Harrison leans over the river’s edge to chastise him, bemoaning how childish the action be.
Mchenry speaks to the General, pointing to a bunch of cattail on the opposite side of the river. He excitedly speaks of cattails’ many medicinal benefits and how they should bring a few stalks back with them. The General seems interested enough, though he points out who should retrieve the plant in the first place which shuts Mchenry up.
Laurens stands to the edge of the water, planning his next move. The water may look nice, but for all he knows the waters could be downright frigid. He turns to look at Tilghman, whose upper torso stays above water, and arms hover over the surface of the water cautiously. Hamilton looks to him expectantly, “Well?”
“Well, what?” he replies.
“Aren’t you going in?”
“I will, I’m only… admiring the view,” Laurens mumbles under his breath. Hamilton huffs and plants his feet to the ground. He bends his knees as if a spring ready to jump.
“Coward.”
Hamilton leaps off the ledge, splashing into dark green waters. He looks on, to confirm for himself that the water was not only safe but warm enough not to freeze him solid.
After a pregnant moment, Alexander breaks through the water, peeking out his head slightly.
“Oh it's quite warm!” he says, smiling contently, “Though a bit deep for my tastes.”
Laurens snickers, ridding himself of his breeches, “Your tastes or your height?”
Alexander sputters and John chuckles at his expense. The freckled man glares at him, before diving under the waters. Laurens bends his knees and leans in, taking a step towards the river’s edge, cautious of the unstable muddy dirt.
Hamilton reemerges, close to his face and grinning devilishly. Alexander puts a hand on his cheek and strokes gently, a few stray droplets of water slipping down Laurens’s face slowly. He blushes, transfixed by the man in front of him. John leans in closer, closer to those lips and he feels Hamilton clutch his foot tightly.
Alexander tilts his head further and smiles.
“Let’s see how you fair.”
Laurens stumbles into the river, sending water flying high into the sky. Alexander was right, it was warm.
Water engulfs him, wrapping his body in a tight cocoon. John wonders offhandedly whether he’d metamorphosis if he stayed long enough or if he’d drown slowly. His lungs nearly devoid of air, he feels a figure take hold of Laurens’s face planting a firm kiss to his lips. He returns its advances, opening his eyes to look at the figure. Ah of course.
He smiles into the kiss, thankful for the brief moment of intimacy, even if it be broken much too soon. They both gasp for air, laughing loudly.
“Let that serve a reminder to never admonish my height,” Alexander says smugly, squeezing water out of his hair. Laurens smiles, standing at full height.
“If that is how you should remind me, maybe I would do well to admonish you more often.” He whispers lowly. Alexander huffs, smirking slightly.
“Perhaps.”
John dips his hand in the water, letting it cascade down his hand, “You were right, it was quite warm,”
“Mm I prefer it that way, I cannot stand cold water,” he pauses for effect, “or the cold in general”
Laurens grins wider, “Aye, neither can I.”
South Carolina was no place for cold weather, especially the summers. If anything, a day where the weather did not consist of splintering heat was quite uncommon. Perhaps that’s why he were so ill-equipped for Valley Forge and its hellish conditions; and why he shared cots with Alexander more than he would like to admit. But at the very least he was no Hamilton, and he never fell ill quite like him. He shivers, remembering how pale he was, how his body refused any form of sustenance, and how it almost felt like the nearest wisp of wind could topple over that lion of a man.
He now ever grateful for the warm weather, and he will forever thank the Lord for sparing him such a sight ever again.
“We may as well take advantage of the river while we can, who knows when we may see such again.” Laurens hums, submerging his body just a bit more under the water. Alexander seems thoughtful for a moment before an excited glint passes over his eyes.
“Would you consider yourself a good swimmer John?” he says mischievously.
“I’d say I can do so fairly well. May I ask why?” he inquires though he already knew. While swimming was not his greatest strength, he knew from far too many misadventures with his brothers that he was better than average.
“Why not have a small competition? The winner gets a prize .” he prompts, emphasizing the last word.
“And what would the prize be?” Laurens asks, tilting his head to the side innocently.
“Depends what the winner decides. Sounds fair doesn’t it?” Hamilton responds, keeping his cool. Laurens considers the request for a moment.
“Alright, we’ll have a race.”
“Did someone say race?” Meade exclaims from the shallow side of the river, “May we join?”
“Why not? More the merrier, ey John?” Hamilton says, bumping his uninjured shoulder. Meade claps happily, gesturing to the other aides.
They line up towards the edge of the river, everyone except the General and Harrison who agreed to act as judges.
Tilghman and Meade babble excitedly, promising to beat the other. Mchenry stands next to Hamilton, sharing strategies and breathing techniques with one another.
Laurens observes the river, while not so deep, it is quite wide. For a normal man, it would only take a handful of minutes to reach the other side. His mind wanders to Alexander, as it often does, and he ponders how well-equipped he could be for the competition.
He had to be somewhat experienced, the freckles on his skin a clear mark of excess time spent in the sun and he no doubt was confident in his abilities, the mere fact he proposed the race in the first place told Laurens he thought this was a race he could win. Or at the very least come close to win.
He’d have to see.
Harrison stood on the river edge, lifting a hand to settle their babbling, “On the count of three we will begin the race, understood?”
The aides nodded excitedly, readying themselves and getting into position.
“One…”
Laurens grips the muddy brink off the wall.
“Two…”
He pushes his legs on the edge.
“Three!”
The aides spring into action, diving under the river and cutting through its water.
He pushed off the wall, giving him a good headstart and he brings his arms up and down, swimming as fast as he can.
Laurens pushes through the pain in his shoulder, determined to win, and peddles his legs as hard as possible. He resurfaces for air, glancing at the other men. Meade and Tilghman were nearly necked a neck and they trade taunts, egging each other on. He could not spot Mchenry, as he’d fallen behind.
Johns’s eyes searched for Alexander, spotting a flash of red hair in front of him. Hamilton swims at least a couple of yards ahead of the other aides. No wonder he proposed this challenge.
He peddles faster, swimming till he reaches Hamilton’s side, “Oh no you don’t-”
“Oh, I shall,” Alex responds, gasping for air. Hamilton dives under the water, deep enough to where John can no longer see him, and resurfaces nearly ten feet ahead of him. Laurens gapes, watching as Hamilton touches the other side of the river, pressing up against the muddy wall.
“Ha! A victory!”
“This challenge was clearly unfair, you much younger than the rest of us!” Meade huffs resurfacing from the water. He not truly angry but still miffed from his loss.
“You agreed to it, and I have no obligation to hinder my skills because you cannot handle a bit of water-” his words are cut off by a large splash of water.
“Meade you son of a-”
Another wave of water is sent in Hamilton’s direction, cutting off his sentence.
“I thought you lived on an island Ham? Can’t you handle a bit of water?” Meade taunts loudly, echoing Hamiltons’ earlier teases. Hamiltons’ hair drapes over his face unflatteringly, blocking his no doubt murderous glare. He parts his sodden locks, narrowing his eyes to Meade dangerously.
“Oh, I’ll show you water.”
The effect is almost immediate, a battle of wits and skill proceeds, where hands take the place of guns, and water takes the place of bullets. Harrison urges them to act properly but is ignored when fives waves of water are sent in his direction, soaking his clothes.
Laurens and Hamilton face off against Meades and Tilghman, Mchenry acting the bridge between them both. In the end, they all sit panting and soaked, laughing merrily as they float calmly among the river’s surface.
“Ah I think I’ve had enough water for today,” Meade says standing once again.
“Aye, and I’d sure hate to come out when the weather has already cooled,” Tilghman replies, peddling to the river’s edge alongside Meade.
“Yes, please calm Harrison for us before we exit.” Laurens jests, still floating.
“Hush, I’m sure the old secretary isn’t too angry,” Meade assures, standing as he slips on his stockings.
“The hell I am!”
“Uh oh.”
Hamilton laughs as Harrison chases the two aides, yelling about his ruined clothes. John smiles tiredly, his energy drained and his muscles sore from the exercise, “I’d like to see that waterfall before we leave.”
“It isn’t much of a waterfall but alright,” Alexander replies, treading the water carefully.
The river grows less deep, showing more skin the closer they get to the shallow end.
Alexander’s body glistens in the water, droplets of moisture sticking to his form, giving him much the appearance of an angel. His hair now sits wet across his slender freckled shoulders; the finishing touch to such a wondrous sight.
John’s eyes rove over the hard lines of muscle and soft curves, mouth nearly watering.
He looks around him and finds with an odd twist of possessiveness that he is not the only one.
While the other aides showed little consideration for Alexander’s nude form, Mchenry stares from the corner of his eye; careful yet clearly interested.
Laurens narrows his eyes slightly, hoping to catch Mchenry’s line of sight. He stands taller, subconsciously attempting to make himself more intimidating, the effect of which causes the water to ripple.
Mchenry glances at him and flushes when he realizes Laurens has caught his staring. He suddenly becomes very interested in the swaying leaves above him. John huffs, turning back to the waterfall he could care less about now. He knew it was ridiculous, one could have admiration for the male form if they wished, hell he may even encourage it, but John would prefer they not stare at his Hamilton that way.
He could handle ladies, twas expected for some to find interest in his lover. But men ? No. Absolutely not.
“I think I should like to help Meade, seems Harrison finally got a hold of him.” Mchenry coughs, attempting to escape the awkward situation he’s found himself in. Laurens nods stiffly, while Hamiltons waves him goodbye.
Mchenry escapes, avoiding Hamiltons confused gaze as he swims away
“John, are you alright? You seem angry all of a sudden,” he says carefully, looking to his clenched hands.
John shakes his head, “I’m not angry.”
Alexander stares at him, analyzing and looking him over, “I think you lie.”
“I think you mistaken, sir,” Laurens replies, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
“Ah, are you miffed I won the race? It’s alright you were at a disadvantage, next time I’m sure you’ll come closer once your shoulder heals.” Alexander reassures, smiling gently.
“What?- No that’s not it-”
“So you are angry,” Alexander says curiously. John curses under his breath.
“Oh fine, alright, alright yes I am.” John surrenders.
“May I ask why?”
Laurens bites his lip, looking to his surroundings, to check that they are alone. Everyone sits on the grass and they pay no attention to them. He sighs and grabs Alexanders’ hand, urging him to the large rock he spotted at the beginning.
He leads him behind the rock, checking occasionally that nobody be watching them.
Once they settle behind the structure, he sighs and looks to the side, “He was staring at you.”
“Who? Mchenry?”
“Aye.”
Alexander’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “And why would that make you angry?”
“It was the way he looked at you.” Laurens spits, lips turned down in an angry frown.
Alexander thinks for a moment, before the realization hits him, “Oh.”
“Indeed.”
“That explains it.”
Alexander glances at Laurens, considering him for a moment, “I assure you, there is none other who may hold a candle to my heart, Jack. I’ve told you before there be no other woman, nor man who endears me so much.” Alexander says earnestly. John peeks at him, trying to keep down the smile threatening to split his face. Alexander swims closer, caressing his arm.
“Do you need me to prove my devotion?” Alexander says lowly, eyes blown wide with affection. Laurens flushes, trying to ignore the way Alexander’s touch sends pleasant waves of desire coursing through his veins.
“Let me take care of you, John,” Alexander whispers, laying his head on Laurens bare chest and toying with his hair.
Laurens breathes heavily, eyes darting to the men that are closer than they should be, especially during such an intimate moment. Hamilton notes his hesitation and begins pressing gentle kisses to his collarbone, working his way up. Laurens tries not to whimper, to make any noise at all but he fails when Alexander pauses his kisses just under his jaw and instead begins suckling on the skin gently.
John groans and slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes darting to the others talking merrily near him, “None can see us here John, calm yourself.”
“This is much too dangerous! We should stop before someone sees!” Laurens replies anxiously. Alexander hums and strokes the inner part of Laurens’s thigh, his breath hitches unconsciously.
“Do you truly wish to stop?”
Laurens stares at Hamilton through his lashes, feeling the pleasant weight of his hand on his thigh and how long it’s been since they’ve taken each other. He notes Alexander freckles, how he should wish to kiss every single one and card his fingers through his hair.
He breathes through his nose, griprs waist.
“No.”
Once they’ve dressed and mount their horses once again, none note the smile gracing their faces, nor the way Alexander’s hair seems more tangled than it usually be. They also do not notice the bruise peeking through Laurens cravat, or how Hamilton winces slightly when he mounts his horse.
The aides are sure to remember fondly of this day, the happiness they shared, and the carefree nature of the day amongst a bloody and hard-fought war.
Though for two particular lovers they remember the day differently, but with no less fondness.