Chapter Text
Touching. Glances. Whispers.
How could he ignore the signs? So obscure to the average person, yet so obvious to him.
Laughing at the occasional inaudible murmur, bumping of knees under the table. Sitting needlessly close to one another.
He huffed under his breath, casting his eyes back on his work.
Hamilton hovered over his shoulder as he wrote, the pair in an awkward silence, spared only by the scratching of an individual quill.
‘,leaving a sufficient number of proper officers to carry on the recruiting service, who are to fol-low’
The quill was snatched abruptly from his fingertips and Hamilton sighed audibly from his mouth. He drew 6 sharp, dark slanted lines through the word ‘follow’ and paused for a moment.
“I must ask you to put an end to this habit of yours concerning writing words on separate lines.” Hamilton said this as he wrote ‘join’ above where he had crossed out the previous writing. He handed the quill back without so much as a smile.
Meade nodded once before continuing.
‘... as fast as they are ready.’
Meade was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden outburst of giggling from Hamilton across the room. Laurens too grinned as Hamilton threw his head back, unable to control his laughter.
Next to him, Tilghman looked up from his hunched position over his work to assess the commotion on the opposite side of the office. Harrison, meanwhile, jumps at the chance to scold the pair for causing such chaos. Laurens’ mouth twists into some sort of kind-hearted smirk, while Hamilton attempts to calm himself down, wiping away tears as he does.
Meade feels a twist in his gut at the sight. Rage, a feeling he rarely experiences, bubbles inside his chest as Laurens grins at Hamilton again. His right hand balls subconsciously into a fist, but relaxes once again, flexing his fingers to relieve the tension.
A wave of calm washed over him, relieving his anger and replacing it with the cool feeling of sadness. He breathed out, noticing how erratic his breathing was. He stood and made his way to the office door.
“Where are you off to, Meade?”
Meade turned to answer Fitzgerald’s question. “I require a moment to clear my head. This office can cloud one's thoughts all too easily.” His voice was quiet and shook slightly, though he prayed Fitzgerald would think nothing of it.
His wishes seemingly paid off, as Fitzgerald shrugged and nodded once with a small smile, returning to his paperwork. As he twisted the knob on the door, he could sense a pair of eyes watching him as he left.
Meade did not bother to grab his cloak or hat as he rushed out of the parlour and out of the house. Hugging his arms around himself, immediately regretting the cloak yet unwilling to turn back, he stalked across the camp to the stables.
He reached his destination, immediately throwing open the empty stall door, and locked it behind him. He reached over to pet his horse, who was conveniently in the stall next door, before continuing to the back of the stall and sitting on the floor in the corner.
He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and letting out another shaky breath. He opened his eyes, stared up for a moment at the ceiling, before closing them again as his bottom lip trembled.
“Hamilton, would you check this for me? I’m not sure if the wording is quite right.”
Hamilton looked up from his own work, frowning slightly at Meade’s request.
“Not at all, but you are aware you have worked here for almost a month now, Meade?”
Meade chuckled gently, “Yes I am fully aware. I just can’t seem to grasp the correct phrasing.”
Hamilton rolled his eyes playfully, crossing the room from the desk he shared with Harrison to hover behind Meade. Meade handed him the letter as Hamilton placed his right hand on Meade’s right shoulder. Meade glanced down at Hamilton’s hand, his breath caught in his throat for a moment, before looking back up at Hamilton.
“No, I see no error. Have a bit of faith.” Hamilton handed the letter back, his fingertips brushing along the edge of Meade’s index finger. Meade looked up at Hamilton, who looked back down at him, offering a grin before he returned to his seat.
Meade looked back down at the letter in front of him, before looking back up, meeting Hamilton’s eye. Both of the men dropped their gazes quickly, switching their focus back to their work.
Silent tears began to roll in a steady stream down his cheeks as he tried to steady his breathing. A quiet sob escaped his lips as more tears began to fall. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his kneecaps.
Some time had passed. The tears had stopped coming, but a dull ache began to form in his temple. His eyes felt heavy and ached from the lengthy activity. Meade stood slowly, his joints aching and cracking as he moved from the floor. The icy wind he had been hidden from hit him in the face, his nose instantly feeling the freeze around him.
He stepped out of the stall and locked the door behind him. As he turned to leave, he saw two men in blue coats trudging past speaking between themselves. One of the men looked in Meade’s direction and Meade’s stomach dropped.
Hamilton. With Laurens.
Meade opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, sighing and casting his eyes to the floor before trudging away back to headquarters.
Upon his arrival, he found only Harrison present in the office, to whom he explained he felt under the weather and planned to retire early. Harrison responded simply by waving his hand, and Meade wandered up the stairs.
He sat down on his bed and carded his fingers through his hair, loosening it from its queue and allowing it to fall around his face.
Fitzgerald, Tilghman and Harrison had all been sent on assignment early that morning, leaving just Hamilton and Meade that morning.
Meade awoke at 7, having been afforded the luxury of a few more minutes in Harrison’s absence. He rolled over to face Hamilton, who was also stirring beside him. Meade watched the younger man, a warm feeling rushing through his chest and a small smile creeping onto his face.
“What?”
Hamilton, now awake, stared up at Meade blankly.
“I-I only… only…” Meade trailed off as Hamilton slowly leaned up towards him. Hamilton’s hand snaked around the back of Kidder’s neck as their lips met softly for a kiss. Sweet, though passionate, the pair stayed in one another’s embrace for a short while.
Meade suddenly came to his senses and broke away from Hamilton, gasping about the sins he had just committed. He looked over his shoulder at Hamilton, whose face displayed nothing but betrayal and hurt.
“Meade, I-”
“I think we should get dressed.”
Meade gripped the bedsheets in his fist, looking up as the door clicked open.
“Can we talk?”