Work Text:
Stupid blanket, stupid pillows, stupid mattress.
Hamilton tore the thick blanket from his queen-sized bed, taking with it bedsheets that snagged on the other side. The momentum yanked him down and he landed on his side with a grumble, snatching the pillows from where they'd been resting against the headboard. Once that was done, he jumped to his feet and began hoisting the mattress from the frame.
Adrenaline had him shaking, his heart beating in his skull, annoyed at his groggy mind. Groggy from his nap. Stupid nap! He didn't do naps; he drank too much coffee and typed through the jitters. He wouldn't be in this whole mess if it weren't for that damn nap!
Alex searched his desk for the hundredth time since stumbling out of his chair, all groggy and confused from his nap, convinced they had to be hiding somewhere over here. Under his chair, or among the mess of paper and office supplies, or behind his defective laptop.
When he came up empty, he yanked at his messy hair with a frustrated grumble and swiped two empty mugs off the desk, the glass hitting the carpeted floor with a muted thud.
So help him god, if his glasses didn't appear in his hands right fucking now-
Alex stomped over to the nightstand and began digging through the mess of a drawer, the flood of objects a blurry mess. He squinted to discern them, worsening his headache.
The bedroom door flew open. Alex slammed the drawer shut as he met the concerned eyes of his husband.
"What is going on up here?" Burr demanded. "Alex, what are you doing?"
Alex paused for a moment, panting as he looked around the room. Completely ransacked—the desk trashed, the bed destroyed, the laundry basket flipped over, the floor covered in miscellaneous objects.
And still no glasses.
"I-I was writing a report," Alex explained as he went back to it, rummaging through their dresser drawers this time, "and I fell asleep, and I drooled on my laptop and now it won't turn on and I never saved that file! And- and my glasses!" He dropped to his knees to search a lower drawer. "I can’t find my glasses. I swear I was just wearing them! And that report is due tomorrow and I don’t even have a laptop anymore-"
"Alex!" Burr was on the floor beside him, a firm hand on his shoulder. "Calm down!"
"I can’t, Aaron! I can’t see shit!" Alex's voice wavered and he blinked back the threat of tears. "My glasses-"
"Your glasses are on your head." Burr plucked them off and offered him the round frames.
Alex's voice caught in his throat as he stiffly accepted them, deeply embarrassed yet infinitely more frustrated.
"Wow that’s…" Alex sighed as he rubbed them with his shirt before popping them on, definition returning to his surroundings, his husband's face no longer a blur. "Jeez, what am I? An old man losing his glasses on his head?"
"Happens to the best of us," Burr assured with a smile. "And what was wrong with your laptop?"
"I drooled on it," Alex scoffed. "Pretty sure it’s busted."
Burr didn't say a word, only stood and walked to Alex's workspace. By the time the latter pulled himself to his feet and joined him, Burr had already plugged in the laptop and tested the power button. In seconds, the screen blinked on.
"Or it was dead," Burr concluded.
"Damn…" Alex slipped into the seat and logged on. "But I’ll never be able to get all that work back. The file-" It was the first thing Alex clicked open, and there was no missing the glorious words near the file name.
"Auto saved," Burr read.
"Fuck." Alex laughed tiredly as he leaned back in his chair. "I’m such a mess. Getting myself all worked up over nothing."
"You wouldn't be you if you didn't," Burr teased, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. Alex grinned, leaning back into the embrace. "But seriously, Al, that was a lot, even for you. I think it's time for a break.”
Alex's smile fell as he held onto Burr's wrists. If there were ever a phrase he wanted to hear less.
"Tell me something I don't know," Alex scoffed. He sighed as his tired eyes fell shut, mind racing with deadlines and unwritten words. He'd nearly been done, just another few pages. He'd just need another cup of coffee to keep him up for the rest of the night, just long enough to finish. "But not tonight. I mean, I was almost done anyway and it would only take a few more hours to-"
"Yes, tonight," Burr cut in. "Alex, you tore up our bedroom looking for your glasses and couldn't do basic troubleshooting on your laptop."
"I just wasn't thinking straight," Alex argued. "I'm fine now."
"You look like you haven't slept in a month," Burr countered.
"Like you look any better after a shift!"
"Alex."
Alex met his husband's gaze, any defense he'd had left in him evaporating. Burr had this way of looking at him, of saying his name—firm yet gentle—that commanded a halt to any rambling, quelled the fighting spirit in Alexander.
It was soothing, the way Burr caressed his face, swept hair out of his eyes. Even when his gaze was beginning to border on concerned, and Alex sighed quietly, knowing what came next.
"What did you have to eat when you got home?" Burr asked.
"Nothing." It was only when Alex answered he felt the hunger pains.
"Then I trust you had a big lunch?"
Alex averted his gaze, couldn't look at Burr knowing the answer.
"Alex?" Burr prodded gently.
"It's just…easier to have something quick," Alex said.
"What's 'quick?'" A little firmness to the question. Alex went silent again. "Answer me, Alex."
"A granola bar."
"Alex!"
"I didn't have time to pack anything, okay?" Alex told him. "I was in a rush this morning and-"
"I could've brought you something if you'd called," Burr said.
"But our lunch breaks don't line up, it wouldn't make sense-"
"Of course it wouldn't," Burr acknowledged. "But I'd still do it because I can be a few minutes late if it means my husband is fed."
Alex opened his mouth to respond, but his mind went blank of any retorts. The grogginess wasn't entirely gone, it seemed.
"Now," Burr began, "you're going to get in the shower while I make you dinner."
Alex looked up. "Aaron-"
"And I better smell shampoo on your hair when you get out or I'll make you do it again."
"This report-"
"Can wait until tomorrow," Burr said. "You've been working all day. Give yourself a break, alright?"
A point Alex couldn't argue, not that he wanted to. They'd had this conversation before, far more times than Hamilton was willing to admit. Embarrassed they had to have it at all, that without Burr's guidance, Alex might not even be alive.
"Come here," Burr ordered gently.
He stood to his feet and Alex followed, the two wrapping their arms around each other. Alex shivered at the warmth, reveled in the way Burr rubbed circles into his back and trailed his fingers through his hair.
The report did leave Alex's mind in the moment of serene silence and soothing embrace, his plans to push himself just the slightest bit further fading with it. But his mind was never truly quiet, so other thoughts came. Like how Burr took better care of him than he did himself, how Alex didn't know why he'd chosen him of all people.
Burr could've had anyone in the world—he had wit, charm, was a good friend and even better partner. Yet he'd chosen the listless, overthinking workaholic who didn't know the definition of self care and whom he'd had to stop from completely destroying himself multiple times.
Alex sighed. How in the hell did Burr put up with him?
"You treat me so well, Aaron, and all I do is stress you out," Alex muttered into his chest. "I…I don’t deserve you."
"Hey, don’t you dare talk down on yourself. Not in front of me." Burr lifted Alex's chin. "You worked for everything you’ve got, including me. Remember that."
"Yeah," Alex scoffed. "You won’t let me forget."
Burr smiled and patted him on the back, giving Alex a quick kiss before letting him go. Alex pressed his face back into Burr's chest with a whine.
"Shower," Burr reminded him.
"Just a little longer," Alex pleaded, hugging him again.
"This isn't getting you out of dinner and going to bed on time." Burr hugged him back.
"I know, I know."
Alex finally let his husband go a few minutes later and wandered into their en suite with a yawn. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, leaving him starving and exhausted, sort of cold. The shower Burr had ordered of him was beginning to sound more and more appealing.
Just as Alex was ready to climb in, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Burr hadn't been exaggerating when he said he looked like he hadn't slept in a month.
Alex was a complete mess.
The bags under his eyes were unrelenting, his beard was overdue for a trim, his button up looked like it had been to hell and back, wrinkled and coffee-stained, his hair looked like a tornado had been through it, leaving it chaotic, and oily and- jeez, had he really gone to work like this?
He couldn't recall having done much in the way of hygiene that morning, and there was no telling when those stains had appeared.
Hamilton almost didn't recognize himself. He rushed into the shower.
When he emerged, he looked more or less the same, dressed in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants. But his hair was clean.
He hadn't expected dinner to be done so fast, but was pleasantly surprised to find Burr in the kitchen fixing plates. The latter smiled when he noticed Alex.
"It's ready," Burr said. "Here, sit down."
Alex felt out of place at the little dining table. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten there, much less with his husband, trading it instead for dining alone in front of his laptop, tapping away at an unfinished document.
Guilt had Alex sitting with his arms crossed, curled in on himself. All this man did for him and they couldn't even share a meal together? Because what? Alex couldn't stop working?
Hamilton gulped, hugged himself tighter.
The dull clink of Burr sitting the glass plate of spaghetti and meatballs before him snapped Alex out of it. He looked up at his husband, then back at the plate, a smile coming to his face.
"This looks great," Alex said.
Burr brushed Alex's hair back and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Dig in."
Alex was going to do just that, twirling up a generous amount of pasta on his fork, watching with a watering mouth and growling stomach as steam rose from the food. But he paused when he heard a distinct sniff behind him.
He turned his head to find Burr pulling back with a guilty smile, a fist full of Alex's hair. "Just making sure."
Alex rolled his eyes and ate.
The two talked through dinner, and it felt easy, delightfully natural. Alex almost felt foolish not wanting it to end knowing full well he and Burr would be spending the rest of the night together. But he couldn't help it.
What if this wasn't the start of a change? What if Alex went right back to having dinner in front of his computer tomorrow?
"You okay?" Burr slipped a hand onto his. Alex held it like a life raft.
"Yeah," he said. "Just…this is nice. We should do this more often."
"It is nice," Burr agreed. "Normal in some households, even."
Alex smiled and shook his head.
"We'll do it so often it becomes normal," Alex promised. "How about that?"
Burr smiled back. "I'd like that."
After cleaning up, the couple retreated to the living room, Burr putting on a movie while Alex made himself comfortable on the couch. The latter gasped when he saw the familiar title pop up, his absolute favorite American Revolutionary War documentary.
"I thought you hated this!" Alex gaped.
"Oh, absolutely," Burr said with a smile. Then he gave Alex a quick kiss. "But I love you."
Alex blinked, blushing as he watched his husband start the movie. "I-I love you too."
Burr rushed off and returned with his arms full of blankets. Alex allowed himself to be swaddled, Burr wrapping the both of them, pressing their bodies into an entanglement that neither wanted to get out of anytime soon.
Although the position left Alex facing away from the screen, he didn't mind one bit, reveling in the warmth of the blanket cocoon, his legs tangled with Burr's, face buried in his chest. Burr trailed gentle fingers through his hair. Alex yawned.
He didn't quite have an idea of paradise. Such a thing had always seemed impossible—a place without everyday hardships, eternal peace. But laying here in Burr's arms might've been the closest thing.
Alex didn't have many thoughts as he drifted off, surrendering to the comfort, the permission to let his overworked body rest. His brain was delightfully quiet, and his heart, delightfully warm.