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Inside, men danced with their lovers, smiles upon faces, the heat of the ballroom making most forget the chilling winter outside. However, the pair known as the Knights of the Revolution was too busy talking to each other to enjoy the plenty of young, beautiful, and wealthy women to dance with.
“This ball would be way more enjoyable if it were allowed for me to dance with you,” Hamilton flirted, a smirk dancing through his lips. Laurens had learned to notice the small gestures of cheekiness previous to a witty exchange; the corners of his eyes twitching, a spark of mischief, his brow arching in the slightest.
“Oh, Alexander, you know very well that this is impossible. Look around. There are many women here for you to choose from; for sure, you won’t settle for a rough, reckless man such as me, as I’m not deserving of one of your tenderness.” Anticipating his next move as if the checkered floor of the room was a giant-sized game of chess, Laurens shot back his response.
“Well, enough of this already.”
“Oh, so soon, my dear? We were just getting started!”
“You’ll make me lose my temper. I know you look good in blue already, but damn, Jack, that waistcoat is…” His cheeks were quick to flush as he muttered, the sound of the violins almost making it impossible to hear it.
Laurens smiled to himself. Hamilton had his guard down, and he had been acquitted with him long enough to know this meant he was in a longing mood, eager for touch and kind words, yearning for light brushes of lips that barely counted as kisses. He was always up for that Hamilton, the one who wanted the comfort of warm arms wrapped around his waist.
“Shall we go for a walk outside, dearest?”
It took Alexander less than a second to tug on his sleeve, a genuine smile adorning his lips, turning his whole face, usually angry or pissed off, to one of the pure joy of a lover.
“Aye, my dear, you know it.”
They both exited the ballroom, aware that the chilling cold of the outside wouldn’t be very convenient for their comfort. Silence decorated their steps until they were far away enough from the headquarters that Laurens felt safe to take Alexander’s hand, their fingers intertwined.
“You know, I wish we could dance. You can still hear the violins here—”
Hamilton’s eyes widened. “The music is quite loud, actually—John, we could…”
Laurens laughed. “You’re so adorable, have I told you?” he bowed, kissing his lover’s hand like a gentleman does when asking for a dance. Alexander’s nose was already red from the cold, but at this gesture, his neck, ears, and cheeks matched the color. When John let go of his hand, he covered his face, embarrassed, his eyes shut as he repressed a smile.
“God fucking damn—”
“Will you concede to me this dance, mister Hamilton?” Laurens pulled him so they stood closer to the wall, but away from any window, protected by the trees and the silence of the night.
“Well of course, mister Laurens, it’s my pleasure.”
The music was, as always, mostly strings: cellos, the omnipresent violin, and a luxurious harp. Someone had brought a piano for the occasion, and he could imagine the pianist’s fingers dancing on the tiles almost as if they went after the sound.
John’s hand was on Hamilton’s waist, just on the place where the cloth of the coat folded on the hips of his breeches. His deep eyes were fixed upon his own as there was suddenly the touch of warm fingers on his shoulder and neck; music was flowing, their bodies were closer, it was cold and dark, and they could see as their breaths physically mixed in the air before their eyes.
Many say, in love stories, that lovers become one. Alexander had not believed so until, maybe, this particular moment. As their clumsy feet tried to make as graceful a dance as possible while boots were planted in the snow, their hands seemed to be everywhere, and smiles seemed to take over the rest where neither touch nor words reached, he felt as if his lover and he were the same. Chests pressed together, hips almost dangerously close, he was too aware of all the parts touching, the friction of their clothes, and of how his face was now resting on the base of Laurens’ neck.
A mouth planted a kiss on his head, and a hand previously on his torso was caressing his hair. There was nothing as pure as this, he thought, for the combing through his messy red hair made him feel as loved as any other action of passion would.
“You are quite the dancer, I must say,” he muttered as they slowly spun, avoiding windows and hiding behind trees, careful not to lose the melody.
“I wouldn’t say so, my dear. I am a man known for many things, but none of those are of any delicacy.”
Pulling away slightly, so Laurens could see his smirk, he exclaimed, “Why sir, don’t you consider this activity a soft-hearted one? I struggle to imagine a situation more romantic than two forbidden lovers dancing in secret, confiding their affections.”
John failed to repress a smile and the pink that set upon his face. “If you insist, sir.”
“Good, because I do insist. You fail to see how we both are hopeless romantics, a tragedy of those people love to see on a stage. We are some kind of Romeo and Juliet where one is too obtuse to admit he is of a kind heart.”
Laurens squeezed his hand around Hamilton’s waist, continuing to slowly dance even as the music changed its tempo. “Only for you, my dear. This heart of mine is open only for you.”
Hamilton maneuvered to plant a sweet kiss on his lover’s mouth, gently pressing, smiling against the contact. “I know that. I just wish for you to see for yourself how truly tender you become once backs are turned on us. Do you know, for example, how you appear shorter once you don’t have to stand upright to win approval? Have you noticed how you can see the prickle of laughter sparkling from the corners of your mouth before it tumbles out of your mouth? Maybe you don’t, but I have memorized all of you.”
“Yes?” he asked, moved by the dedication his lover put into knowing him. “Like what?”
“Well, I know how you have the longest hair of all the aides. Almost exactly reaching the curve of your spine. I know how you like the way it looks at the sun; I know you like the sun, how it makes you smile. I have noticed how you appear a foot taller when you’re mad. I know how people silence when you enter a room, and let me tell you, I love to see how you intimidate them knowing I can always bring you to this state.”
“You’re worse, if not the same, Hamilton.” John had kissed the top of his head once again. “You appear inscrutable at first sight, but now that I know you how I know no one else, it’s easy to read you. What you think, what you feel, I can identify those signs as if they were my own.”
“Laurens.” Hamilton kissed his jaw lightly. “My Jack.”
“Yes?” Their pace through the snow became clumsier as Alexander almost tripped with a protruding root.
“John,” he said, almost a plea under the moonlight. “Please, don’t ever leave me.”
John felt his heart melt. A feeling shot down his spine, something he couldn’t quite name; he felt indispensable , as he’d never been. A valuable member of a community many times, but never had he felt needed like he did right now. It was almost embarrassing how much he liked the sensation.
“I will never do such, Alexander. Never. I’ll always be here with you.” He pulled away just enough so he could duck to kiss Hamilton’s soft mouth. The tinge of an incipient beard tickled his chin and nose. It was mundane, but knowing that even the version of this man that didn’t shave regularly, that had dark circles under his magical blue eyes, was so hypnotizing to him was admitting a vulnerability he had never shown to anyone.
“Is that a promise?” He could almost hear the painful doubt in his voice. “Everyone I’ve ever l— appreciated has left me, one way or another…”
John knew what Hamilton was about to say instead of ‘appreciated,’ and it made his stomach jump.
“It’s a promise. If I have a say, and if it’s within the things a man can do, I promise I’ll be by your side until the day the sun no longer shines and the fire no longer burns.” Laurens could feel his heart in his throat.
“You’re perfect. You’re—kind, brave, smart, so incredibly handsome , and you’re mine. ” He led the way until he found himself pressed in between his boyfriend’s chest and a tree. Both their faces were frozen, but the heat and the burning of the passion seemed to warm Laurens’ face enough that he could crack a loving smile.
Hamilton wanted to say I love you.
Laurens wanted to say I love you.
But neither of them did anything more than keep dancing.