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“I will be expecting you and Mr. Jefferson to draft a statement.” Washington said, nodding his head to the both of them.
Alexander chuckled, amused by the President’s jest, but then he saw how serious the man appeared. “Wait, you're serious?”
“Yes. You are dismissed.”
“What? This is outrageous!” Jefferson snapped, quickly getting to his feet and leaning over the table towards Washington. To his credit, Washington didn't flinch as the tall, angry Virginian got in his face.
“You two are among the most eloquent writers at my disposal and should you combine your talents, I believe we will achieve a favorable outcome. Again, dismissed.”
Alexander was still sitting there, gaping. Never had Washington ever suggested such a thing, but then again, the last Cabinet Meeting had been a particularly nasty one. At some point, it'd become less about what he believed to be best for the country and more about how many crude remarks about Jefferson he could slip in (he'd done a rather fine job of it, if he did say so.)
Said Secretary of State was still fuming, but he was intelligent enough to know when he'd reached a dead end. He plastered a faux-polite smile on his face and moved away from the President, dusted off his trousers, and left without another word. Washington then turned his attention to Alexander, raising a curious eyebrow. Alexander quickly realized he had been silent this entire time, had not even made an argument, so he muttered something about how ridiculous the arrangement was before he made his leave. On his way out, he could have sworn he felt Washington smiling knowingly at his back.
Alexander’s pen flew across the page, getting to ‘Due to present circumstances,’ before his unfortunate visitor cleared his throat. “Don't word it that way. You cannot acknowledge present circumstances without recognizing past circumstances where they explicitly assisted us.”
Alexander heavily breathed through his nose. “If we mention how they assisted us, it will only further brew tensions between our nation and theirs.” he said, speaking as if he were explaining it to an eight-year-old.
Jefferson, of course, couldn't just leave it there. “So your plan is to fail to even recognize it altogether? You may as well address it; the whole reason they came to us for assistance was due to the debts we still have yet to pay them back for from the war!”
Alexander dropped his pen, massaging his temples to ward off the headache beginning to form. “Is this a statement of neutrality or not?”
“All I ask is for you to address the elephant in the room, damn it!”
Nope, that's it. “And I will word it however I wish! I riled a whole country to adopt the Constitution, for God’s sake!”
“You’re speaking to the man who wrote the damn Declaration of Independence, need I remind you!”
“Fine. Write your own bloody draft, and we’ll compare when we're done!”
“We shall!”
With that, Jefferson pulled up a chair and sat beside him. He whipped out a pen, dipped it in ink, then began to write his own draft in that ridiculously flowy handwriting of his. Alexander rolled his eyes before continuing to work on his own draft, heeding no mind to Jefferson’s complaints of his opening sentence.
Alexander focused on the task at hand diligently and for all of two minutes, there was no sound heard in the room besides that of their pens scratching against parchment in unison. Alexander dared let himself believe he would finish the draft, but then he felt Jefferson looking over his shoulder. Alexander tightened his grasp around his pen. Then, in a low, frustrated tone, the Secretary of State said, “Must you breathe so close to my neck?”
Alexander set down his pen again, gritting his teeth. Don't kill him. You can't kill him. He turned around, glaring at Jefferson. “Would you prefer it if I didn't breathe at all?” he asked, mustering all the faux-politeness he could in those few words.
“Yes, now that I come to think of it.”
“Well, why the hell not try? Take my breath away, Mr. Jefferson!”
Jefferson hesitated, clearly considering backing out of this exchange altogether. For a few critical seconds, he weighed the pros and cons before his ego eventually won out. He reached out and snatched Alexander by his cravat. Using the leverage, he pulled both of them together. Alexander, not willing to back down either, stared deeply into his eyes. He saw a strange look in those depths—crazed, but a mixture of some other emotion altogether. He felt the Secretary of State’s grasp tighten, and Alexander's eyes widened as he realized: the look in Jefferson's eyes wasn't of hatred, but desire. Despite his strong grasp on his cravat, Jefferson was handling him with utmost care. It was as if he feared breaking him.
The man couldn't seem to tear his gaze from his lips.
“You dare—” Alexander hissed, hurriedly looking around the room. Jefferson grasped the back of his head to refocus his attention on him and him alone.
“Oh, but I would very much like to.” he whispered, far too teasingly than the tenseness of the situation called for. Alexander’s skin prickled beneath many layers of fabric.
“Throwing caution to the wind, are you?”
“Quite. Just as you were, writing that address.” Jefferson murmured, then leaned in just enough to close the gap between them. Slowly, his lips pressed against Alexander’s, but it wasn't a kiss so much as it was a brush. Alexander could feel the restraint; it was far from enough.
“You think I'll ever allow you to write it?” Alexander answered, refusing to give up his composure even though he was all but vibrating with pent-up energy. His foot tapped incessantly against the floor each second Jefferson didn't make a move.
Jefferson, the bastard he was, knew the signs; he always knew. He leaned in slowly, kissing his way up Alexander’s neck before leaning next to his ear. His breath crested the side of his face as he whispered, “I know you will, shall I please you.”
Alexander felt the shaky smirk on his face fall as his heart stuttered in his chest. Jefferson, as always, had found the right button to press and Lord, did he love how he pressed them with such accuracy. “Then by all means, shock me.” he challenged, eyes lowering to Jefferson’s lips.
Jefferson chose to seize his mouth at that very moment, and that was all Alexander needed. He kissed back with equal fervor, all the while trying to barricade Jefferson back against the desk. Jefferson growled and used his height to force Alexander against it instead, then began to shower his neck in small though aggressive nips and kisses. Alexander tilted his head back and gasped, earning a pleased sound from the taller man.
They certainly weren't going to complete the draft today.