Work Text:
It had been a long and tedious year for all. Opportunities to relax grew lesser and lesser as the unforgiving winter raged throughout camp. The festive season grew duller by the day, as rations became scarce and innocent men, women and children began to suffer the consequences.
Tilghman grimaced as he read another letter concerning the dire conditions of the encampment.
“I find this to be bordering upon cruelty.”
Several heads pop up in the office.
“What?” Laurens almost deadpans from the opposite side of the room.
“All our supplies are running low. It’s barbaric to expect us all to live under such conditions.”
“I suppose. But consider the fact that Christmas is tomorrow. That ought to lighten up even the most miserable of men.” Meade pauses for a second in thought, “Not to mention that tomorrow it is also your birthday.” He elongates the final sentence in a sing-song voice while rocking Tilghman side to side gently, causing the other man to break out into a soft smile.
Hamilton enters the office after having trudged about the camp taking inventory of their supplies. He slipped past the desk he and Laurens shared, dropping a small piece of folded parchment in front of Laurens, who watched it flutter down to the desktop.
Hamilton approached Harrison and Fitzgerald to deliver the news of their supplies, meanwhile Laurens discreetly opened the note on the desk.
‘Meet me outside in 5 minutes. Wrap up warm.’
Hamilton announced to the room that he would be gone for some time, as Lafayette had requested his services. As soon as he said this, he swept from the room to avoid further questioning. Laurens watched him go, biting his lip slightly as he did.
Laurens crossed over to the fire to burn the note, and once he was sure the paper had crumpled in the flames, he too left with the excuse of “needing to clear his head.”
Laurens placed his hat on his head and equipped himself with his cloak and gloves before exiting the house, the piercing wind hitting him square in the face, biting at his skin from all angles.
Hamilton stood near an abandoned wagon, his downfall being the brightness of his hair contrasting the blizzard around them. Laurens made his way slowly and carefully, as though not to slip and cause injury, to the younger man.
“What is it, Alexander?”
“Come.”
Again, Hamilton had departed swiftly as soon as the words had left his mouth- so swiftly that Laurens stood dumbfounded trying to capture what had been said.
Laurens hastened after the smaller man, whom he matched pace with in a matter of seconds. No matter how many times Laurens asked where they were headed, Hamilton kept his lips shut.
His questions were soon answered, as the pair found themselves in a small patch of woodland. The icy winds had lessened, and the blizzard had ceased to a small, steady fall of snow. The trees here were not dead, as they were thick and green, and pleasantly dusted with snow. The ground beneath their feet did not squelch nor slide, only crunched as they walked.
Hamilton slipped his hand into Laurens’, and the two walked in solitary bliss.
“It is almost a winter wonderland, no?” Hamilton marvelled aloud at the sight, and Laurens hummed in agreement, taking the time to stare lovingly at Hamilton’s face. His eyes bright with wonder, his hair sprinkled with snow.
“Perfection.” Laurens whispered under his breath.
Hamilton laughed, a puff of breath accompanying the action. He smiled at the ground for a moment, before turning to look up at Laurens. The smile vanished, his expression changing to one of admiration. Hamilton’s eyes dart from side to side as Laurens looks down at him, a warm rush spilling in his chest.
Hamilton leans back, connecting both of their hands as he attempts to tug Laurens in the direction he wishes. However, he leans too far, slipping and accidentally pulling Laurens over on top of him.
The pair lay in the snow, simply gazing into one another’s eyes. Laurens feels he can wait no longer, and leans in. Hamilton obliges, and their lips meet. It is sweet and slow. Passionate. Daring.
It is love.
Hamilton breaks the kiss as he feels his back growing colder and wetter as he lay in the snow. Gently, he pats Laurens’ shoulder and sits up. Laurens kneels in front of him, offering him a hand to stand.
“Come. I promise I have something planned.”
“Anything with you shall be worth it, Dear.”
Hamilton grins, dragging Laurens once again to the foot of a tree. It is not particularly tall, and has enough grooves and bumps along its trunk that should make it easy to climb. Hamilton wanders to the back of the tree and returns with a bundled-up blanket in his arms.
Laurens climbs first and sits on a thick branch. He graciously takes the bundle from Hamilton and, after setting it aside, pulls Hamilton up to sit beside him. Once seated, Hamilton unwraps the blanket, removing a medium flask from inside and wrapping the blanket around himself and Laurens.
Hamilton unscrews the lid of the flask and takes a sip.
“I am afraid it is not as warm as when I made it… the snow.”
Laurens snakes his arm around Hamilton’s waist, pulling him closer to sit beside him. Hamilton sighs, resting his head upon Laurens’ shoulder and nestling his head into the crook of his neck. Hamilton’s curls tickle Laurens’ skin, but he does not mind.
“It is perfect.” He places a light kiss upon the redhead’s head.
Laurens accepts the flask and takes a sip of the drink inside, which he instantly recognises as hot chocolate. Hamilton hums to himself, kicking his legs back and forth lightly like a small child.
The pair sit in silence for some time, admiring their view and simply enjoying one another’s company.
Hamilton removes his head from Laurens’ shoulder to place a kiss on his cheek, before returning to his original resting spot.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
Laurens smiles to himself, leaning his head on top of Hamilton’s.
“Merry Christmas, Alexander.”