Work Text:
The sunrise was Alexander's favorite type. It was all dusky purples and soft pinks with the slightest hint of orange reflecting through extensive billowy clouds. The sun that just barely peeked over the horizon was warming- as if an embrace. Alexander knew that the warmth was fleeting, that the coldest part of the days always seemed to hit as soon as the sun revealed itself more fully. It was no matter. Their plans were practically assured to make sweat bead on their brows and skin prickle beneath their heavy coats. Regardless of it all, it would be a beautiful day to die.
That seemed to precisely be Alexander's problem, though. When John challenged General Lee to a duel, Alexander was fully supportive, immediately accepting the position of being his second. After a tight embrace, a couple rounds of rum that left the taste of smoke on Alexander's tongue, and bouts of laughter that made Alexander's head spin just as much as the alcohol, Alexander had been beyond enthusiastic. The thought of making Lee pay for the tactless slander he had continuously spouted about General Washington was enthralling. Alexander could hardly wait for Lee to be put in his place, for John to wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his unsightly face.
Yet, something had quickly shifted in him. It stole his slumber from him the previous night, leaving him to lie awake, staring at John's sleeping form in the cot on the other side of the room. There was a distinct inkling of something that Alexander couldn't seem to place. It sent stabbing surges of anxiety through him, gripping his chest in an absolute vice and sending thrills of fear up his spine. He couldn't shake the thoughts and visions of the impossible happening, of Lee getting a good shot, of John bleeding out. He was haunted by the notion of John on the ground, life spilling out into puddles of deep red on the grass, soaking between his fingers as the doctor tried to do everything he could to save him. Every time he thought of it, Alexander's throat would tighten until he felt as if he were choking to the point he had to cough to clear it. His heart would plummet all the way to his stomach, and his hands would tremble so hard he had to clutch his blanket to still them. In short, Alexander was afraid. He was terrified for John.
Death was familiar to Alexander. It wasn't as if it were a foreign concept he hadn't faced before. No, he understood it all too well. It was a constant that Alexander had learned to expect, given his past and the war. He knew it came so unexpectedly, so quickly. They had all come to terms with the fact that any day might be the last time they lay eyes on a friend. They had to accept that the next time they were seen, they could be nothing more than one of the numerous bodies that littered the blood-soaked battleground. It was something they had all prepared for- or, so Alexander thought.
Now, it felt all too real as he watched John- his closest friend, his dearest confidant, possibly one of the only people left whom he actually cared about besides the other aides. Even amongst them, though, Alexander cared about John the most. The past few years- well, the past few years had only been bearable because John was by his side. The day he walked into Washington's quarters, warmth bloomed in Alexander's chest. It seemed like he and John were two sides of the same coin. They were beyond like-minded, and Alexander could spend eternities just speaking to him and listening to his brilliant mind work. An admirable spark of passion burned brightly in John, which Alexander noticed right away as he stuck out a greeting hand with a wide grin. They quickly became inseparable, spending every waking moment by each other's side. Sure, most of that entailed work where they adorned matching ink stains, heavy eyelids, sharp tongues, and a formidable amount of pride, but there were also softer moments. Moments of swimming in cool lakes to pass the off days, French and laughter echoing loudly around whatever quarters they happened to occupy, the sweet taste of fresh fruit with hands made sticky from the dribbles of juice, soft touches with wet eyes when tragedy and disappointment struck, the crackling of a fire against winter air as they shared glances that happened to last a bit too long. Those gazes heated Alexander just as much as any flame could. So did the flame of passion that burned in his own chest- fervently and wildly- for John.
Only ever for John.
Some grass was still dry from the past winter, golden and crunchy under Alexander and John's heavy footfall as they treaded through the clearing. Alexander kept his sights fixed on the back of John's head. He had been understandably silent since they set off on the short journey to the dueling grounds where Lee and Edwards would be waiting for them, pistol loaded. Perhaps John was trying to stay focused, keep his mind clear. Maybe he was even allowing his mind to dwell on fond memories, thinking of good moments and drawing strength from them. Alexander should be doing the same instead of allowing his imagination to run rampant with worst-case scenarios and impossible fallacies. Above all else, John was an honorable person. He would do anything to uphold his duties and be a respectable man. This duel only proved that. Not to mention, John was a good shot. An undeniably good shot. Maybe even better than Alexander. It wouldn't even be a moving target. There truly shouldn't be a worry in Alexander's mind; He should be filled with pride for his friend, not perturbation. Yet Alexander couldn't shake it.
He couldn't shake the possibility that John could be marching to his death, and he would never know that someone cared about him as much as Alexander did.
Alexander fell slightly behind John, his steps stuttering and slowing as his heart thudded before he stopped entirely as it all became clear. Alexander's brow creased, throat working. John was yet to notice Alexander had halted.
Morning glories and poppies were blooming, opening up to the world and the sun to soak in the morning dew around the sides of their path. They bloomed because they knew what they needed to survive. They knew what they couldn't live without. If they stayed closed off, they would do nothing more than wither away. If they kept everything in, they would die.
Maybe Alexander felt that way, too.
Alexander's hand shot out without his permission, grabbing John's wrist, stopping him as well. When John turned, the risen sun now shining against his blond hair, Alexander's ears rang, and his head swam. What Alexander wanted to say was lying thick and heavy on his tongue, the words too cursed and Alexander too cowardly to force them out. John was staring at him in confusion as Alexander's eyes darted across his features.
The lips that undoubtedly had to be as soft as silk were moving, but Alexander couldn't focus on the words as he felt the insistent thrumming of John's pulse- still here, still breathing, still alive, still time- against his fingers, where they wrapped around his thin wrist. Alexander wasn't ready to lose this, not his best friend, not when he-
Not when he loved him.
Not when he loved him more than any man should love another man.
Not when he loved him more than anything.
Alexander's lips parted, John's name leaving them in nothing more than a breath, a prayer.
It felt as if time had frozen. There was nothing but them, nothing but the woods. Nothing but the sun and its colors, the flowers, the grass, the breeze. John was staring at him intently now.
"My friend," Alexander began shakily, quietly, "My friend, I have something of my own I must confess before I allow you to go into this duel."
John blinked, taken aback, but he still took it in stride, "Alright. Go on, then."
Alexander paused, hesitation and trepidation overtaking him. He's sure from John's point of view, he looked as if he were a frightened, skittish animal. Alexander's not sure which animal would have auburn hair and smitten feelings of romance towards their closest friend, but he was sure he mirrored such a creature exactly.
John gave him a small, easing smile. His pinkened lips quirked upwards, his eyes kind, "Alexander, whatever it is, you must speak it now or hold your peace. We mustn't keep Lee waiting all day lest he assumes we deserted."
"John," Alexander managed to get out in a strained almost-whimper, "Please. Don't despise me. I need you to know, but I do not want to lose you. Promise me. Promise not to hate me."
John's face dropped as he took a step forward. Alexander held to his wrist the entire time, "Alexander, I could never hate you. It is something I could merely never do. I am incapable of it. You are my dearest friend."
Alexander wet his lips, his voice as quiet as the breeze, "Friends do not think about friends the way I think of you, John. I do not believe they are filled with the emotions that plague me when I cannot bear to rip my gaze away from you."
"Alexander-?"
It was John's turn to breathe his name, stunned, eyes widening considerably. Alexander fought the urge to clench his eyes shut so as to not see the reactions to his words, "Please, I must say this. I cannot go another moment without voicing it. Not when we are standing where we are."
Alexander couldn't stop the tremble that entered his voice at the end as all sentiment crashed down upon him. He didn't want to lose John. Ever. Not to the war, not to society, not to another person. He certainly refused to lose him due to his own righteous fear of expressing such attraction and emotion.
"I..." Alexander trailed off, searching for the words that could somehow portray how he felt about this man accurately, "When I am with you, I find myself without any walls or any guard. You must understand those are things I've carried for years to protect myself from the world and keep me from being wounded. With you, though, I find no need for them. You alone are the one person who makes me feel safe. Because... Because you are my home, John. When I awaken each day, it's your face I long to see, your's that I search for in crowds. When I slumber, I run to your embrace in my most wonderful dreams. Your smile, your words are the only thing in which I find comfort. Every moment we're apart, I long to be by your side once more. There is a simple reason for this, a simple explanation."
Alexander took a deep, stilling breath. It was one last grab for courage.
"My confession is that I love you, John," Alexander's voice cracked over the words, "With all of my tattered, bleeding, damned heart, I love you."
A soft intake of breath came from John, his brows furrowed, cheeks pink, eyes softening. Those eyes searched Alexander's own, scouring to find any amount of jest. He would find none.
"Alexander-" John spoke his name again. It was exceptionally delicate.
"You mustn't say anything," Alexander shook his head, "I know what you will say. I know how you must feel betrayed... disgusted , even. I know that I have perverted what you thought must have been genuine friendship, but I must not hide the way I-"
John stepped closer to him, softly putting his unheld hand over Alexander's mouth before speaking, his words so fond Alexander would have thought he was talking to the most precious thing to walk the earth, "Oh, dear boy. You must be quiet for once. Give me a moment to speak."
When John dropped his hand from his lips, Alexander felt a ferocious red burn in his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Alexander whispered, and he was. He was so dreadfully sorry that this was the situation they found themselves in, Alexander confessing to a crime that carried a sentence of death and John reeling for a solution. However, Alexander wasn't sorry for the way he felt about John. He never would be. Nothing could ever make him be.
John's brows furrowed, "You will find there is no need to be."
"W-What?" Alexander stuttered, "Why would I not be..."
Alexander trailed off as John smiled, "There is no need to be sorry because I feel the same as you. You have managed to ensnare and completely confine my heart and soul. You have made it to where it only belongs to you. You have thoroughly consumed me, my dear boy."
Alexander felt frozen again, emotion swelling in his eyes and chest, "You cannot possibly mean that. I would ask you not to give me such hope in order to spare my pride."
"Listen to me," John pushed on, "You know I am not a deceiver. I would not lie to you, much less about this. I have yearned for you as well, Alexander. For all of these years, I have yearned for you. There are no words to describe to what extent I love you."
"You-" Alexander breathed in relief, attempting to blink away the inexplicable dampness springing to his eyes, "You love me?"
"Alexander," John's hands came up to cup his face, "I don't only love you. I unquestionably adore you. I adore you more than anything on the earth. I love you. I will speak those words as many times as I need until you believe me."
"You love me," Alexander repeated, dumbfounded. A grin spread across his face as joy erupted from his chest, "You love me."
"Gracious, have I broken you?" John grinned back, "I do. Although, perhaps instead of just articulating it, I should show you."
Before Alexander had the chance to grasp what was happening, John was pulling him in close.
Alexander's stomach swooped and fluttered as John's lips met his. They were as soft as he imagined them to be. He felt as if his knees would give out, sending him plummeting to the ground. He didn't even think he would find it in him to care that the grass would stain the knees of his trousers if he did. The position wouldn't be unlike kneeling in reverence, in prayer.
Who was in need of a church or a temple, though, when one was in the presence of John Laurens?
Forget the wilderness that surrounded them or the miracles that pulled them out of battles they surely should have perished in. Alexander had proof of the Divine right between his hands, with hair so golden it rivaled the sun, with eyes that reminded Alexander of a fogged ocean- an ocean that promised Alexander it would take him to the greatest of heights. With light freckles that ghosted over pale skin that managed to put the evening stars to blushing shame, with lips that could work miracles all on their own.
The tender heat of John's lips and breath pulled Alexander in, intoxicating him as Alexander brought a shaking hand up to John's hair, mussing it and making strands fall from the ribbon that tied the rest back neatly. The fiery hunger seemed to devour them both as they pulled each other impossibly close. Alexander couldn't have been merrier.
There were things to discuss. There was the matter of hiding their affections, keeping it where no one could possibly discover them. There was the matter of what they would do after the war. There was the matter of all of it.
Yet none of it truly mattered. Not now, anyway.
None of it mattered because they had each other.
That would be enough.
They finally broke away from each other, breath labored, lips smiling. John leaned forward touching his forehead to Alexander's as they savored the moment. The moment with nothing but them and the wilderness.
When they managed to regain some composure, chests no longer heaving, John was the one to find his voice first.
"After this duel," John breathed against him, "When we return to our quarters in victory, I will demonstrate exactly how much I treasure you."
Alexander shivered, cheeks still warmed, "I will hold you to that, Jack."
·
·
·
·
·
Alexander had nothing to worry about. Lee never knew what hit him.
And John kept his word.