Chapter Text
"MALCOLM." He shook the handsome soldier's hand and held it for a moment in the air with a pleasant smile. "But you can call me Alex."
It wasn't like Laurens to flirt, but Alex was flirting first. He didn't overdo the physical contact to begin with, only weaving his words into pretty little textiles on his tongue that incited and delighted him, asking him about himself without prying too deeply. It wasn't often that he was awarded the opportunity to speak with a civilian who wasn't the most frustrating roadblock, those irritating men in Congress (sorry, he silently thought for his father's sake), nor his father himself, the man he'd come to Philadelphia to visit; this conversation alone had made him forget everything, especially that troubling talk about the woman he left behind in London.
They were talking for so long that he lost track of time completely and totally. Most of the patrons had retired for the night and it was just them, their empty glasses, and the drunkards and drunk, those unable to leave though it was long past time.
“This is highly inappropriate,” Laurens uttered. “I should have gone an hour ago.”
“My company is not to your standards?”
“Oh,” he said, “they far exceed them. Thank you for your rousing words.” He dropped some money on the table from his coin purse. “For a Quaker, you certainly have a presence that thrills. Most I have met have been dull, even against the gleam of their righteousness."
Alexander had not stopped smiling. He enjoying knowing he had captivated this man who’d become his ticket to advancement. “I am glad to know I have not bored you.”
“Not at all.” He rose. “However...”
"Where are you staying?"
"In a room just down the road until I ride out first thing. I might just get a few hours of sleep," he mused out loud, staring at the door. "And you?"
"I should ride home tonight, unless you are willing to share your bed, though I can't promise the funds to repay you for it. I have spent my pocket change right here."
Laurens felt bad to turn him down, his intentions obvious. He had to tell him that, "I would very much have liked to offer that to you, except it is not an inn, but a house of my father's friend. Returning this late from the drink is one beast, having a stranger in tow would be another entirely. You understand, don't you?" He fished out some more money. "Here, for a room, if the ride back is too far."
Alexander shook his head. "No, I'll not burden you. I can make the ride and I cannot take your money if you won't be staying in the room you paid for."
He deliberated. "I truly cannot, sir, I apologize. I hope you safe passage home." He didn't pick up the coins anyway.
“You as well. I hope to see you again.”
“If the Lord permits.”
“Is it typical for you to await on whether the Lord permits an action? Or do you ask for forgiveness after?”
Laurens knew what he was talking about. He had ideas of it - those words that stimulated parts of himself he wished to keep hidden away - and dismissed them, tore them to shreds. It might be for the best that they never see one another again, or else he would have to ask for forgiveness. So he laughed simply at whatever the intention of that joke was and smoothed his clothes. “Good night, Alexander.”
“Good night,” he granted quietly. “And God save you. You are fighting the battles of the righteous, after all.”
He nodded and left the bar lighter than he'd arrived despite the heaviness in his limbs.
IT WAS JUST A FEW DAYS LATER that the army was on the move and eventually engaged the British at Brandywine when, as a result of what little information Hamilton was able to gather from his contact. Howe was at Washington’s flank with the Americans none the wiser until it was too late and they were pushed back. The tiresome battle left Philadelphia open to British infestation.
Laurens had never planned to see that Quaker from the tavern ever again, so it was a surprise that, as Washington’s troops had just recently settled in Whitemarsh, when Laurens was on his way back from Fort Hill, he saw him again: sat atop his horse in a black coat and hat, staring into the woods with a cake in his mouth. He hardly recognized him at first as he approached, prepared, with his hand on his gun, to question the man in Continental territory.
Those bright eyes squinted, then widened in recognition. “John Laurens?”
He took his hand off of his weapon. “Mr. Malcolm. What a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“What a surprise indeed! I fear I may be lost. I must be in the army’s territory if I am so blessed to run into you.”
“It isn’t safe for you to be traveling here. There have been minor actions throughout the land between here and Philadelphia. Where are you trying to go?”
“I intended to leave Philadelphia, but the gentleman who provided me with a supposed shortcut must have sent me in the wrong direction. However, I’ll admit that I am a distractable man. Likely, it was my own fault. How are you? You look well. It seems God has permitted us to meet again. And look at that. The green sash signifies… aide?”
“You would be correct.”
“What good news. I imagine you are rising the ranks quickly with your capability of speech, let alone whatever prowess you must have in the field. Where have you been engaged? Were you at Brandywine?”
“I mean it honestly, Mr. Malcolm, you cannot be behind these lines without the permission of our army.”
“Might you have the time to escort me to my destination, then?”
Laurens looked at the sky, the sun already at the trees, and weighed the request. “I suppose I could. If you continue the way you’re faced, you will find yourself among Americans. I don't suppose that was the goal. Come along,” he said, waiting then for Alexander to turn his horse and follow.
Alexander extended his arm. “Pancake?”
Laurens accepted, but, “Only as payment for being your navigator. Now, where were you trying to find yourself?”
“As fate would have it, in your company.” He tossed him a smile. “My intentions, however, were to be in Burlington.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“I quite like the shows in Philadelphia.”
“Your afternoon fancy has brought you far off track. There is no logical explanation for you having taken a wrong turn. Your navigational intel must have come from a drunk.”
“I admit I am too quick to trust.”
Laurens nodded. “You should take care in who you trust, especially here - especially these days. You must have put yourself out of your way by several hours of travel, at least.”
“I am dismayed to hear it. It is my punishment for going to Philadelphia in the first place.”
“Why seek a new trail? Was your original route, which brought you to Philadelphia alive, compromised?”
“Nothing severe, except I heard gunshots, which spooked my dear Cinnamon,” he said, petting the horse’s mane. “I told this story to the man beside me at the show and he was insistent I avoid any danger by going that way. I realize now that he must have misunderstood from where I came and to where I wished to return, as he did not seem to have any ill intent towards me.”
Laurens hummed. “Seeing as you find yourself northwest of the city when you need to be east…”
“Have I really gotten that mixed up?”
“As you said, fate would have it that we meet again. How is your farm?”
“Prepared for the winter. Besides that…” he shrugged. “My idle hands brought me to the city again."
“Perhaps they brought you to our army. Many of our men’s contracts have expired this past month and with the approaching winter, enlistment is down. They seem to think the war stops when the snow falls. If you enlist, there is plenty to do. I may not know you well enough to judge your temperament, but your mouth could be of use, enough for me to vouch for you on that front.”
Alexander laughed. “Was that sequence of words intentional, John?”
Laurens parsed the words he’d just spoken until he realized the double entendre.
“Oh, I think by your blush that it wasn’t,” said Alexander. “While I wish I could prove the use of my mouth to you this winter, I am bound to my farm. I appreciate the offer.”
How dare he read into his words to force a dirty joke and then slight him anyway? How dare he leave him speechless? This man was a lot of things, but a devout man of God could not be one of them.
“I suppose you intend to continue to encourage me anyway. What other compliments will you bestow upon me? My fine, slim body, fit for rigorous drills? My legs, strong for marching? My lips, for–“
“I had not meant to dwell on your appearance. I only said you speak well.”
“Is that was drew you to me?”
“Apparently not.”
“So do I appear to your standards?”
Laurens thought back on their conversation at the bar. How enthralled he was, yet how he could not help but stare. How Alexander had asked, when it was time to say goodbye, whether his company was to his standards. He felt like they kept circling one another in everything they said. His head was spinning, too. “You far exceed them.”
“It placates me to hear that, and yet it hardly satisfies me.”
“What would satisfy you, then?”
Alexander looked at him, and when he caught his eye, he tried to smirk, but it was coaxed quickly into a wide grin. He sighed and looked back at the road, shaking his head, the corners of his lips still tugging at him. “You would do anything to have me join your ranks, wouldn’t you?”
“That isn’t what I–“
“No, no, they really should have you go into town and advertise for the army. You’d speak in that voice of yours with that… fine face of yours and… praise the men for their mouths and bodies as they sign their lives over to you, entranced. The British would defect or else simply lay down their arms.”
Laurens wished to laugh it off but he couldn’t. He wished he could tell him to stop. But he couldn’t. He tugged at the reigns until his horse stopped, the only control he had over the situation. When Alexander noticed, he stopped, too. Maybe he’d misread John’s reception. He waited a minute for him to speak, but he didn't.
So he broke the silence. "I did not aim to embarrass you. You seemed before to enjoy my compliments, so I just thought... but I understand. This time, without a drink to relax your muscles, I understand I may have crossed a line."
Laurens studied his eyes for a moment. He always found his gaze returning to his lips, though he tried to stay away. "The only line you have crossed is the division of territory. But if you are so hapless and know so little of navigation, perhaps it is best you avoid charging forward. ...We hardly know one another."
"I know. I had it in my head that there was a reason God sent you to me a second time."
"To aid you in getting out of the trees without being caught in petite guerre crossfires."
"Or to help me navigate more than that. I fear I have made a mess of our converse."
Laurens didn't want him to feel guilty. He'd offered him the ground to flirt, it was his responsibility to, well, help him navigate. "And what might I be able to do to assist that?"
"Well... answer honestly. Were you only responding in humor? Today and that night at the tavern? Because I may ease the discussion with something to make you laugh, but I meant it earnestly. I find you strikingly handsome. You understand it's difficult to be subtle about what I'm offering."
"What are you offering?"
Alexander's eyes challenged him: you know what.
"Alexander," said John sternly, yet kindly, "you don't mean to... take liberties with a stranger? To transgress propriety when you can't be sure the man you've chosen to do so with might have hatred in his heart for the act? What would you gain from such a risk?"
"What does your general gain from chasing Howe around Philadelphia? What do you gain from your rank and your bloody battles and your sentiments of rebellion?"
"We are fighting for a better world, for freedom."
"Then allow me mine. You go flirt with death, Laurens. I am free to flirt in hopes of finding somebody who will allow me to feel alive, if but for a moment. I am free to find passion and distraction in this forsaken life, and if God would allow it, a friend. I am allowed to want more. I incur the risk. You could have told me you were uninterested rather than continue to pull at the threads of my being."
"I never said I was uninterested."
"Oh, but we hardly know one another, and I am the hedonist who would mistake humor for an invitation."
"I do not condemn you nor do I reject you, but you must understand, it surprises me. I could hardly entertain the notion of it for it is something dangerous, as we both know, yet both times we've met, you have been unashamed. You charge with fervor towards what you want and I envy you. I admire it. It surprises me, but I wish I had it in me to return your forward advances. You are quite the captivating creature." He petted his horse's neck to soothe his own rambling, ironically. "As I've said, your place in this army could be an incredible one. You would take headquarters by storm, I assure you."
"Well," said Alexander, kicking his spurs into his horse so she'd start, "I've told you, I cannot."
"Why?"
"My mother is very sick and I am all she has left. Again, thank you for the riveting invitation, but when a man has told you several times that he is unable, do not press the issue further." He muttered, "I've learned as much."
Laurens put himself into motion. He felt bad his hesitation was a slight to this attractive man, but, “I want to be friends.”
“You are aware that it is not always feasible to write letters.”
“I find writing letters to often consume too much of my time.”
“Then what do you want, Laurens?
Hesitation. "You've piqued my interest."
"And?"
"And... we can leave it at that until fate pulls us together again. But when I bring you to the enemy’s lines, don’t go seeking trouble or get yourself lost just to see me.”
Alex smiled coyly. "You flatter yourself."
GUESS WHO went seeking trouble just to see him again? Granted, he wouldn't try the whole "I got lost" spiel again, it was tired enough the first time, but he did find himself in various situations just to see John. It was getting bad enough that his excuses were being seen through and one day Laurens even asked, "Are you just lying to visit with me?" and Alexander had to respond:
"I admit no fault but it isn't a secret how desperate I am for the sight of you."
That's how the physical relationship began. Laurens was so taken aback by his thoughtful endeavors and flowery words every time, but holding back had required far too much effort of him. After hearing that, he fell quiet and serious, and his hand raised between the short distance of their bodies, and Alexander met him in the middle, taking his hand gently and pulling it against his chest. He tried looking in his eyes but kept glancing at his lips until it was unbearable. The moment he thought he might scream, be it for frustration or impatience, Laurens leaned in until their noses brushed.
He kissed him. Alex didn't want to push him too far too quick, but he wanted to show him he wanted him, and he put his other hand on his neck and kept him close.
When John pulled away, it was hesitant, like he was worried he'd never have the guts to do this again. He looked at him for just a moment and couldn't help but kiss him once more. It was more brief, and he seemed startled by his own actions. "We can't."
"You don't understand how much I need it," Alexander pleaded quietly.
"We shouldn't be doing this here."
"This is as much privacy as we can be afforded in our situation."
"Someone might see. And, God, what would your mother say? She's sick. You need to go home to her."
Alexander squeezed his hand. If he left like this, what if they never got to do this again? His silence spoke volumes. For as much as John feigned to want him to leave, he was holding him tight, like he was struggling to secure knots against sheets of rain and a sea that threatened to swallow him whole.
Alexander knew what he needed, knew he couldn't stop seeing John, whether he gave him information about the rebels or not. "Not like this. You are the only thing keeping me afloat these days."
"I fear I'm an anchor."
"You can say that if you'd like, but I will always find a way around your analogies, John. You keep me steady. I might very well drift aimlessly without your presence." With his free hand, he rubbed Laurens' uniformed arms, that color he had killed with the same hands he held John's so tightly with. What a mess he was. He had a duty to fulfill. "But you're right. I have spent too much time away and these days are much colder. I don't know when I'll be able to visit next."
John was weak to his words, always. "I can wait."
I can't. André would soon become frustrated if he couldn't offer more than estimations of their army's size and blind guesses about their plans come spring. The most promising thing he had were these whispers of discontent about Washington's command... of which he had little details, so André wouldn't have use for it. Glad you're able to wait, though.
"Two weeks," Alexander said decidedly. "I'll come here in two weeks, same place."
"Next time, come to the camp and ask for me. My sneaking off is too suspicious."
"And they won't ask about your civilian dalliance?"
"You're my friend, and a good Quaker man. Bring some bibles and perhaps anything else you might be able to offer the gentlemen at headquarters, and we will welcome you in. Then we might share a moment like this again, but by a fire rather than among dead flora and frosted ground."
Alexander took a chance and kissed him again quickly. "Adieu. 'Til the stars align again, my friend."
Laurens held his hand as he walked away, until not even their fingertips touched with extended arms. His footsteps departed through the trees and Laurens picked up the couple of hares he and Alexander had managed, a good bounty considering the luck the army had had this winter. He'd take them back to camp as his alibi.
And that's how it all began: the flurry of a love affair, so blind that he had no idea how near to his heart the dagger really was. His greatest love and gravest mistake.