Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Thomas?”

Madison rolled over in bed, the bright phone screen pressed to his ear. Two seconds prior, his dorm room had lit up with artificial blue light and the custom ringtone Thomas had set for himself (the first verse of some Nicki Minaj song that Madison still didn’t know the name of) before he’d left for his semester abroad in France three days ago.

Three days ago.

They weren’t dating. At least, that’s what Madison told himself. That’s what he told Thomas, but Thomas had a way of conveniently forgetting to listen when it was something he didn’t want to hear.

“I miss you.” Thomas’s voice already had that throaty scratchiness that only happened when he’d been speaking French for too long before making the switch back to English, or when he’d been up for longer than twenty-four hours straight. In this case, Madison would bet on both. “France doesn’t have shit on your dorm room.”

“What time is it there?” Madison asked, ignoring both the dig at his dorm room (it was fine, in his opinion) and the I miss you. He listened as Thomas exhaled loudly and moved around a little before answering.

“Seven thirty,” came the answer. Madison rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other still holding his phone. That was too early for Thomas to be awake of his own free will; he was going to run himself into the ground in France and Madison was three thousand, eight hundred and sixty-six miles away.

(He’d calculated it yesterday in class after receiving a snapchat from Thomas, shirtless on a balcony, his hair all loose and wild, framed by a perfect, cloudless sky. The dinginess of the classroom, the droning of his physics professor, the tap tap tap of pencils on desks and fingers on Macbook keys was too much; he drowned it all out by looking up distances and plane ticket rates and how to say I’m coming to see you in French.

The terrible thing, the thing Madison tried his hardest not to think about, was if Thomas knew he wanted to visit, he’d find himself on the next plane to Paris, all expenses paid, no questions asked. Thomas was like that; he showed his affection by drowning people in it.)

“Talk to me,” Thomas demanded blearily, an ocean away. “I know you want to sleep, Mad, but I want to hear your voice.”

Then why did you leave? Madison’s inner self shot back, lightning fast, cutting to the heart quicker and more efficiently than Madison ever did out loud. But he didn't say that, didn't say anything he really wanted to, just rolled onto his other side, came to terms with the fact that it was almost two in the morning and he had an eight o'clock class he needed to be up for, and sighed a staticky sigh into his phone.

“I went to your place yesterday.”

“Libertea?”

“Yeah,” Madison answered. “They didn't remember me. What's his name; he’s from France…”

“du Motier?”

“Him. He wrote my name on the cup, but he wrote Jake instead of James. I took it and drank it anyway. I didn’t want to make a big fuss over nothing.”

Thomas laughed at that, soft huffs of noise that made it through a six hour time difference to Madison’s ear and, somehow, made the fact that he was awake at two in the morning a little bit more bearable. “That's rude. Want me to come home and set them straight?”

You make a lot of jokes like that, Madison thought.

“I’m doing all right on my own,” Madison said.

There was a beat of silence before Thomas changed the subject. “Did you get the same thing as always? Black coffee with two sugars and two creams; the Jemmy Mads usual?”

“I’m sure a lot of people have that same order, Thomas.”

“But not a lot of people put cinnamon in it.”

“You put cinnamon in it.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Madison didn’t have a rebuttal, mainly because he did like it. He liked the slight spiciness swirled with dark roast coffee, he liked how it smelled a little bit like how he remembered his mother did after she’d bake trays of snickerdoodles for the holidays, he liked watching the cinnamon constellations eddying in the creamer.

He hadn’t put cinnamon in his coffee since Thomas had left.

“Someone different was making the coffee,” he said, changing the subject himself this time. “I’ve never seen him before. On the shorter side, really curly hair, freckles. Just, a lot of freckles.”

“Huh,” Thomas exhaled into the phone. “Don’t know him. Never heard of him.”

“He made a damn good cup of coffee.”

Thomas made a noise, a cross between an imperious snort and an indignant huff. Madison rolled onto his back, phone still pressed to his ear, and grinned up at the ceiling. He could picture his face as clear as day, the arched eyebrows, strategically hooded eyelids, offended stare. He made that face whenever someone interrupted him when he was talking, or whenever a hurried New Yorker pushed past them on the street (”It’s not my fault we Virginians have patience, Mads,” he’d say. “Fuckin’ New York.”), or whenever Madison insulted him, which was, Madison would have to admit, very often.

“Is that a dig at my coffee making skills?” Thomas asked, still sounding put off. “You’re an asshole, Mads. People don’t know it, ‘cause you’re cute, but you’re a real fucking asshole.”

“Don’t call me cute, Thomas.”

“I know, I know.” There was a rustling of sheets on the other line, and Madison waited. He caught a few muffled words, mainly in French. Some he knew, some he didn’t.

…Bonjour… dormir… bientôt… attendez...

“You have someone over?” he asked as soon as he knew Thomas was listening again. There was a beat of silence, longer than necessary, before the answer.

“Yeah, some girl, I met her last night. Her name’s Angel, she’s studying abroad for a year.”

“Angel.”

“Hey, man, I don’t know, that’s all she gave me.” Thomas shifted again and so did the mood; becoming sharper, more severe. “You know how this works, right, James? You told me you didn’t want to be exclusive, you told me to meet people. I asked you--”

“I know what I said,” Madison shot back. “I’m not holding you down, Thomas, we both know it would kill you. If not right away, then slowly. It would eat away at you--”

“You’re acting like sex is the only thing I want from people.”

“Isn’t it?” Madison bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth, letting his head fall back against the wood side of his cheap dorm room bed. “Shit. Thomas, I’m sorry. I’m just… Tired.”

Thomas breathed a staticky breath into the receiver. “I know, Mads. Listen, I know you’re not into all that physical relationship stuff. Sex, kissing, whatever, but that’s… We can make it work without that stuff. I want to be with you.”

“And I want you to be happy,” Madison retorted. “You’re the most physical person I’ve ever met, Thomas, you can’t honestly tell me a relationship without sex is appealing to you.”

Silence. And then: “Why’re you always so damn reasonable, Mad?”

“It’s my downfall.”

Thomas laughed. “Well, what about a trio?”

“Polyamory?”

“Like… An open relationship, I guess?”

“No,” Madison said, turning over again, “open relationships fail because there’s no communication, it’s basically free reign to do whatever you want without your partner’s consent. Polyamory is three or more people--”

“More? Fuck--”

“Even three people sounds complicated.”

“Fuck.”

“So no to that, then?”

Thomas breathed out. “I don’t know. It’d be complicated. Who the hell would want to put up with both of us?”

“And are we even a both of us yet?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Okay,” Madison said, flipping over onto his back, “here’s the plan. Be in France. Don’t worry about me, or us, or any of that. You think about what you want. I’ll think about what I want. We’ll talk about it when you come home.”

The other end was quiet, until Thomas moved. “I can still talk to you, right?”

Madison smiled in the darkness of his dorm room.

“I expect it.”

“Good. Get some sleep, Mads, I’ll text you later.”

“I’m in class later.”

Madison couldn’t see his face, but he knew Thomas was smirking his omnipotent smirk, his I’m complaining to your manager smirk, his asshole smirk.

“I know.”

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 33s
walked across that lock bridge today and…..….honestly

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 51s
never had a problem being in this city alone

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 1m
i want to banish feelings forever if im being real

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 4m
fuck

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 7m
yall ever think about someone nonstop ?? asking for a friend

“Hello?” Madison answered, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he used both hands to pull on his shoe. They were dark brown Sperrys, a belated Christmas gift the year before, and Madison thought it was pretty obvious who they were from. On the other end, Thomas blew a raspberry.

“Isn’t it three in the afternoon over there?” Madison said in reply to the raspberry. “That’s a little too early for you to be awake, right?”

“Aw, Mads, I love your sweet talk. What’re you wearing?”

“Is this a booty call?”

Thomas laughed, loud and unabashed. “Asshole. Don’t you have that big presentation at school today? I’m just trying to be supportive.”

“Sure.” Madison slung his backpack over one shoulder and took one last look around his dorm to make sure he had everything he needed for the day. “And I'm wearing those boat shoes you got me, so you're welcome.”

“The Sperrys?”

“Unless there's another pair of shoes I don't know about.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Madison rolled his eyes, but still took his phone away from his ear, opened Snapchat, and sent Thomas three pictures in a row, one of the shoes, one of his face with the dog filter, and one of his face with the flower crown filter, middle finger held high right in the center of the shot.

“There. Happy now?”

The other line was dead for a few seconds before Thomas returned from, presumably, looking at the pictures.

“Flower crown? Really?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t sent me selfies with that filter before,” Madison countered, closing and locking his dorm room door behind him. “I get them, Thomas. I get them all.”

“Hey, I take a perfectly reasonable amount of selfies.”

“For a narcissist.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mads, and go do your damn presentation!” He paused for a second. “Call me when you’re done? Let me know how it goes?”

“Sure, sounds great. Call you in an hour, then?”

“It’s a date.” Thomas made an obscene kiss noise on the other end. “I know, I know, I know. Whatever. Kill ‘em.”

Madison hung up the call, taking one last look at his notifications before heading into class.

Thomas J. took a screenshot!

Thomas J. took a screenshot!

Thomas J. took a screenshot!

madison.james is online!
jeffersooooonnnnn is online!

jeffersooooonnnnn: u want to skype?? it’s only 5am here lmao
madison.james: Can’t. Roommate’s here, for once, and he’s sleeping, for once. Don’t want to wake him up. Sorry :(
madison.james: You really should be sleeping, too, if we’re going to talk about that.
jeffersooooonnnnn: sleep’s for the weak mads. and whats ur roommates name?? the never sleeping party monster man of my heart
madison.james: John Jay. And you’re nothing alike, you actually went to class.
jeffersooooonnnnn: until i went off to be fucking awesome in france
jeffersooooonnnnn: ur always welcome to join me btw
jeffersooooonnnnn: i kno u love ur ***routine*** and ur ***peace and quiet*** but come onnnnnn
madison.james: Nah
jeffersooooonnnnn: :(
jeffersooooonnnnn: okay okay okay enough abt france. bring me up to speed??? what’s happening in the good ol us of a?? been back to libertea ? i bet gwash misses the hell out of me
madison.james: Who’s that?
jeffersooooonnnnn: the owner
madison.james: Ah. And no, I haven’t been back since the Jake/James issue the other week…
jeffersooooonnnnn: lmao bitter much??
madison.james: Not in the slightest.
jeffersooooonnnnn: lmaaaaaooooooo suuuureeeee
madison.james: Okay, not to show my hand or anything, but it’s almost been two months. You’re coming home soon :)
jeffersooooonnnnn: uh
jeffersooooonnnnn: about that
madison.james: What do you mean?
jeffersooooonnnnn: it might end up being longer than 2 months. sry
madison.james What about school?
madison.james: Why are you just telling me about this now?
jeffersooooonnnnn: i didnt know *when* to tell u tbh. and idc about school. im just playing it by ear
madison.james: Oh. Okay. Fine.
jeffersooooonnnnn: mads, come on, ill be back before you know it!!!!!!!!!!
madison.james: Do what you want, Thomas.

madison.james is offline!

jeffersooooonnnnn: shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt

jeffersooooonnnnn is offline!

James Madison Jr. is feeling sick
4 minutes ago, New York, New York
I just can’t seem to kick this thing. Hopefully it’s gone before finals next week :(

“You know, when people act like assholes, they usually send flowers. Chocolate, maybe. Do you know you’re terrible at being a friend?”

“Let it out, Mads. I missed hearing your voice, you know that, right?”

“Fuck you, Thomas.”

“So, we’re good, then?”

Madison paced around the box in the middle of his dorm room. It was almost offensively big, filled to the brim with tissue boxes and packages of instant chicken noodle soup and colorful packets of Halls cough drops. In the middle, terribly folded into what could only pass for a square in a preschool classroom, was the softest blanket Madison had ever felt in his life. The price tag had still been attached, but he’d cut it off and dropped it into his wastebasket without looking at it.

It was a deep royal purple, it clashed with everything else on Madison’s dorm room bed (and, frankly, with everything else in the room), and he was currently wearing it as a cape.

“I just want you to come home, idiot.”

Thomas sighed at that. “I know. I want to come home, too, but… At the same time... “

“I know you don’t.”

“Not because of you, Mads. If you’d come over here, that would be all it takes. I’d never cross the ocean ever again.”

You can’t stay over there your entire life, Madison thought, pacing around the box, trying to figure out where he was going to put all of the god damned tissues before Jay got back from class. What about your life here? What about me?

“You know I can’t do that,” he said out loud. “I have things to do here. You know my dad’s will, I don’t get anything until I finish my degree, and it has to be here in New York.”

The other end was silent for a beat, and Madison could practically picture Thomas sticking his tongue out.

“I’m the lucky one, right? My parents die and their will’s just like leave everything to our only kid, hopefully he doesn’t blow it all on weed.”

“No, you just blew it all on fucking Kleenex.”

“Blew it on Kleenex. I see what you did there.”

Madison hadn’t actually been trying to do anything, but he laughed along with Thomas, anyway.

“So, we’re good?” Thomas asked.

“We’re good.”

“And it really shouldn’t be that much longer, I promise. Although, I probably should have left last night… I ran into Angelica again at this bar, and it wasn’t pretty.”

“Angelica?”

“Angel. That girl from a few months ago.”

“Oh, her. What happened? Did you get a drink thrown into your face?”

“No, nothing like that.” Thomas paused. “She didn’t remember me.”

And that, Madison thought, is the number one way to mortally offend Thomas Jefferson.

“I’m sure she did,” he replied. “I’d bet she was just trying to get under your skin. You guys part on good terms or no? Knowing your track record…”

“We didn’t part on any terms, really,” Thomas said. “Met up a few times, did it a few times. Just hookups. She didn’t remember me, Mads. C’mon. It’s me.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re a narcissist?”

“That’s how you address all my letters, so, yeah, I’m pretty sure you have.”

“Good. Because you are.”

“Shut up. And I think you’d like Angelica. You’re both mean as hell.”

“Well, it’s too bad you’re never going to see her again,” Madison replied. “It’s also too bad she doesn’t remember you.”

“One,” Thomas said, “fuck you. And two, she lives in New York, so, hey. Big city, big personalities. We’ll find each other some day.”

“Did you even get her number?”

“Numbers are for idiots.”

“So that means you forgot.”

Thomas let out a huge sigh right into the receiver. Madison held the phone away from his ear for a second, out of the range of noise, grinning. It had taken him a while, but he was finally fluent in giving Thomas grief from three thousand, eight hundred and sixty-six miles away.

They talked for another hour after that, even though Madison still felt under the weather. He fell asleep on the floor beside the huge cardboard box, wrapped in the purple blanket, phone still pressed to his ear.

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 38m
but i dont so it was hilarious

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 39m
if i got embarrassed it wouldve been embarrassing

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 41m
and ive def said “bonsoir yall” to a group of people before so yeah

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 45m
ive officially been in france for 1 year and 6 months yall

“Well?” Madison asked. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, computer set up in front of him and purple blanket draped around his shoulders. Thomas had his iPad propped up on the counter in his kitchen; he was currently in the middle of stirring something in a pot on the stove. Madison wondered what the emergency number was in France, and if he called it from New York, if it would do anything. He wasn’t about to watch Thomas burn down his house just because he was trying to cook at some ungodly hour in the morning.

“What time is it over there?” he asked again.

“Almost two,” Thomas answered, pouring something into the pot. Madison squinted.

“I thought after last time you promised to never cook again.”

“That’s just rude.” Thomas smiled over at him. “You’re using my blanket.”

Madison felt his cheeks get hot as he shifted on his bed. “Of course I’m using it, Thomas. What else would I do with it? Give it to Jay?”

“I’d be mortally offended, and you know it.”

They were quiet for a while, Madison enjoying the silence of his empty dorm room and the warmth of the aforementioned blanket, while Thomas stirred whatever he was making, his hair pushed back by a blue headband. He was in an American flag tanktop and black shorts, and every once in a while when he forgot he was still on Skype he’d do a little two-step shuffle dance by the stove.

“Oh, shit,” he said suddenly, and Madison got to witness, three thousand, eight hundred and sixty-six miles away through Skype, Thomas Jefferson dealing with an overflowing pot, a small stove fire, and the subsequent triggering of a fire alarm.

A half an hour later, Thomas was sitting on his kitchen floor with a bowl of Trix, Madison had moved to the floor of his dorm room with a box of dry Count Chocula, and they still hadn’t run out of things to talk about.

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 13s
behind his back i was like ‘see u tomorrw’ ;) ;) ;)

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 22s
i said nooooooooooooooo neverrrrrrrrrrrr

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 40s
fire dept guy: does this happen a lot

Thomas Jefferson @tjeffersonn • 1m
really glad the bspp keeps sending new ppl every time this fucking happens (fire emoji)

New snapchat from Thomas J.!

“Come on, come on, pick up.” Madison drummed his fingers on the sink in one of the college's’ bathrooms. He was supposed to be in class, but how was he supposed to pay attention when Thomas had just sent him a picture of a plane ticket with nothing in the line of text except for two American flag emojis? “Come on, you gigantic douchebag, you motherfucking jackass, pick up your goddamn-- Thomas!”

“Morning, Mads. Well, I guess it’s still night over there, right?”

Madison hated him. Hated how slowly he spoke, his confident Southern drawl that somehow, despite being from the same exact place, Madison had never picked up. Hated how he knew what the call was about, knew that Madison was panicking, yet was still acting this infuriating.

“I’m not speaking to you,” Madison said, and then looked up at the bathroom’s ceiling. What a stupid thing to say, especially while he was still holding the phone up to his ear. “I mean, about that. Not speaking to you about that.”

“Well, what do you want to speak to me about?”

“Your goddamn snapchat,” Madison said through clenched teeth, spinning around to lean back onto the sink. “The plane ticket. What the fuck, Thomas, what the fuck?”

“Oh, that.” There was a pause, and in that pause, Madison clearly imagined what Thomas was doing in that exact moment, which was, presumably, touching his hair. “I thought you’d be happy. I’m coming home, Mads. I’m coming home.”

Madison let out a huge breath he hadn’t known he was keeping in, and smiled a huge smile he hadn’t known he was holding back.

“Took you long enough.”