Work Text:
Before Washington knocks, he already hears the loud clicks of the keyboard that could only belong to Hamilton. It's already 3AM, yet the relentless typing had not paused since 10PM. He takes a moment to sigh and wonder if he's overworking his employees. Then he quickly dismisses the thought because it's only Hamilton and Jefferson that compete like this.
He's never understood their competition. And though they had both protested it was just a willingness to work when he asked, Washington knew that it wasn't a coincidence Alexander had one more word than Jefferson on their last presentation. Or when Thomas would rush to buy coffee for their coworkers before Hamilton arrived at work. (He didn't mind the latter, free coffee was always something George couldn't say no to).
It had gotten a bit more concerning when both started staying at the office hours after it had officially closed. Then when they started sabotaging each other's spaces at work, it had gotten increasingly alarming. Hamilton always drew little penises on the other's desk, and in return, he would be greeted with an elaborate drawing of a middle finger in the middle of his desk.
He had tried to stop it once, Washington swears. He had tried to sit them both down and allowed them to sort out their differences, but like children, they had both gotten up and left the room at the moment it became clear what he was trying to do.
George remembers rubbing his eyebrows together in defeat, deciding to let the universe make its way to them. Clearly he was wrong, their rivalry had only worsened over time. He pushes the door open, not even bothering to knock. He's half-expecting to see Alex hunched over at his desk typing furiously away at a tariff bill.
That's why it's a shock to see his most hard-working yet absolute nuisances of workers sitting next to each other willingly. Jefferson's casually pointing at something on the monitor, and Hamilton is just as relaxed. They're both usually so tense that it feels extremely weird to see them being comfortable in each other's presence.
Washington clears his throat, a universal signal for 'So sorry to interrupt, but y'know, I'm here.' Suddenly, Alex jumps in his seat and turns his chair 180 degrees to face his boss.
"Hey, George... didn't know you were coming back so early," he laughs awkwardly, throwing a side glance at the other in the room. The person he looks at has the opposite reaction; Thomas smirks as if he knew this was coming. As if they were hiding a secret.
"Hamilton. It's 3 in the morning."
He gets a blank stare in return. If it were anyone else, he would've thought they were feigning ignorance. But no, with Hamilton, he knows that the guy is definitely capable of losing track of time.
Another heavy sigh. This profession makes him ten times older than he already is.
"You need to go home... both of you," he turns to Jefferson to direct it to him too. However, the latter's gaze is turned toward his partner.
"I think you should tell him." It's the first thing he says all night, and to that, Alex flusters.
"Tell me...?" The question trails off, these two brats were clearly hiding something. Did they blow up another computer? Or maybe they finally sucked it up and decided to work on a project together? His thoughts are stopped as he notices Hamilton throwing an eraser and Thomas' face. He rubs his face, then turns to smack Alexander's cheek with a ruler.
"Hey! Booosss, he's harassing me-" His words get cut off as Thomas continues his attack on his face.
Washington can't help but chuckle a little. Their antics had always been a little ridiculous. Though this time more than others, he couldn't feel any real hostility from it. It was more of playful fighting.
He straightens again. "Okay, you both really need to go home, seriously."
Alex pouts, but reluctantly follows Jefferson out the door. Just as they're leaving, George suddenly remembers - "Wait, what did you guys want to tell me?" He asks curiously, wanting an answer. He gets none, however.
His voice disappears as the door suddenly slams shut. He hears whispers from outside fade away until they're no longer recognizable. Washington guesses he'll never know.
Outside of the building, Alex swats his boyfriend's arm. "You almost sold us out there in front of George!" He exclaims, though he wasn't really mad.
The only response he gets is a silent smile. And Thomas wrapping an arm around him. The weather in New York was starting to get chilly as winter approached.
"Hey, I was talking to you-" his voice deforms into a muffle as he feels warm lips pressed against his. He leans into the kiss enthusiastically, though he has to tip-toe; Jefferson was too tall for his own good. He wants to continue, he wants to feel every part of Thomas' body. Then an old woman on the sidewalk calls out to them: "Get a room!"
Hamilton realizes that was the first time he's ever heard that. He knows he should be offended, but all he can feel is giddy. She really thought of them as a real couple. Even if everyone else thought they were enemies.
Sure, maybe it started off with some friendly fire, but it's how it ends, right? He slips his hand into Jefferson's. It's the first time he's ever done that.
He wants to pull back as soon as he does, yet the warmth keeps him there. Has he ever noticed how big his partner's hand was? He felt like a dwarf next to a giant. For no reason, Alex starts giggling, finding the whole situation funny.
There was once a time when he had thought he would never date a guy. And definitely someone that was Jefferson. Still, he had done it. He had fallen head over heels and was too afraid to admit it.
He was damn lucky Thomas liked him back. He wondered why.
As if he was reading his mind, the other murmured in his ear, still entranced in an embrace, "If I don't have you, who am I going to argue with?"