Work Text:
I
He watched fingers drum carelessly on the desk next to him as he tried to work, the annoying clicking sound filling his ears as he carefully wrote his essay. Well, technically not an essay. More just research on how and why words where sprawled somewhere on everyone's - well, not everyone, he guessed, referring to his friend Dolley, who's body was clear of any words, and the aromantic girl was perfectly okay with that - body. He remembered the first time he learned of what the words meant, and it had completely upset him. His words were "Hi." Fucking H. I. Words he heard almost every day of his life, and it had upset him to the point where he was sure he would never find his soulmate at the rate he was going.
John and Alexander's were easy. Written on John's arm was "Alexander Hamilton, at your service," and on Alexander's back was, "What, are we in the 1700s? I'm John." Hercules and Lafayette's were sweet. Scrawled on Lafayette's collarbone, in small writing, was "Excuse me, but I'd just like to mention that you look really pretty in that dress," (It was a dare, Hercules later explained, to hit on the stranger he had been ogling. But Hercules had manners.) On Hercules' skin was written "That's very nice of you to say, Monsieur." And so on and so forth with Peggy and Martha, Elizabeth and Maria, everyone else he knew, it seemed, and all he had written on him was "Hi."
A pencil drum solo was added to the incensive finger tapping, and James was just about to scream bloody murder when it stopped, and obnoxious shuffling ensued. How loud can one fucking person be, seriously, James was about to lose all his cool and scream at the man, he was trying to figure out why his unknown soulmate had to be so common as to say 'hi' the first time you meet someone, I mean-
"Hi," Oh my god are you kidding me, another one, I mean be more creative, you're getting me excited for nothing, literally nothing. When James said nothing, the tapping continued, which meant that the man - he had a masculine voice, so James just assumed - had gotten bored of waiting for James to reply. James shoved his notes and laptop into his bag, and stalked off, out of the library. He decided to grab a coffee, and dialed up his acquaintances - well, technically, should he consider them friends? He wasn't sure, but he spent time with them - John Laurens (John wasn't so bad. Alexander, on the other hand, could get on James' nerves. And he was always complaining about this one 'Thomas' guy,) Hercules Mulligan (Him and James often discussed books over coffee. His significant other, Lafayette, could be slightly… outlandish, but they were okay,) and Aaron Burr (Aaron was that one friend that you love but wonder why you do because you can't even remember why you ever talked to them in the first place). They all met at a coffee shop, one which John and Alex both worked at, and he arrived to find that most all of the group had come, and groaned. Three people. He asked for three people, and suddenly 2 Schuylers, a Burr, a Prevost, a Mulligan, Lafayette, Hamilton and Reynolds were all piled into the shop. James groaned once more. Maybe they were friends. In a begrudging sort of way, where you're like "I only wanted to know a few of you, but apparently, you're a whole fucking package deal."
But James sank into his seat anyway and retailed his day in the library, and Hercules offered, "Maybe it's him?" But James dismissed the man and continued sipping on his tea. It was never him. Never.
II
Two days later James was sipping tea in the coffee shop, curled up in a chair and reading a book that Hercules had suggested to him. John and Alexander where off work, and then the tapping. Oh my god, how did he find him, he had stayed clear of the library the past couple days just to stay away from the possibility of this happening. James groaned loudly and grabbed his tea, marking the spot in his book. He would not get angry again. He absolutely would not.
III
James decided he would be safe at the library, and then there was pencil tapping, and the head librarian, Angelica Schuyler, walked over and asked the man to stop, ("This is a library, god damn it, and I do not appreciate you tapping your pencil every second.") Bless Angelica. Bless Angelica in all that she was, and he would have to remind himself to buy her a coffee or something the next time he saw her. (Which would probably be soon, considering Elizabeth had invited him over to her and Maria's apartment to help them bake a couple things, and Angelica was always there.) James caught sight of the man, who was actually not half bad looking, James decided, losing all sense of anger - well, most of it, anyways, - in favor of his usually calm self. The man had dark skin and a plethora of dark, corkscrew-like curls that fell into his face. And then he saw the time, and hurried off, because he and Aaron had a project due that they had to work on.
IV
After surprisingly not seeing Angelica at Eliza's, James had stopped by the coffee shop to grab Angelica a coffee. John was there, as well, the cashier man and barista. ("Don't you usually order tea?" Yeah, but Angelica is a saint. "We already knew that." Well, this time it's tripled.) When he entered the library, he handed the coffee off to Angelica (Angelica, you're a saint. "I already knew that." Seriously why does everyone say that? "It's common knowledge that I am idoled and beloved by all.") and sat down. He glanced around and almost laid down and prayed for death when he spotted the curly-haired pencil tapping man from the past week. Instead, he walked right back out, not bothering to stop when Angelica asked where he was going. He texted the group later that night saying that he was done with libraries and coffee shops. He was sure they all laughed. He couldn't hear them, but he knew them.
V
He didn't even bother to enter the library when he saw the mop of curly hair. He turned on his heels and returned to his car. He'd finish his PoliSci essay in his dorm. Maybe he could get Aaron to help him, if need be.
VI
That incessant behavior. The tapping, the gross, disgusting sound of fingers tapping wood, and it wasn't even a good rhythm. He hadn't seen the man when he entered the library, but soon enough the man had come through the doors, and if James was not at such an important point in writing his essay, he would leave.
The man had sat next to him, continuing his melody of tapping, and James' anger was growing. He hated getting angry, he really did, but certain things in life just made him so upset, and the pencil-finger-wood tapping was the biggest one.
That was it. That was his last straw. His very last straw, because now he was tapping two pencil against the table, and Angelica wasn't there to tell the man to shut up, which was absolutely such a pain. He was so extremely angry, this was a library, not some place to make your own ridiculous wood-tapping symphony and suddenly James was standing up.
"WHY IN THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU MAKING SO MUCH INSUFFERABLE NOISE?" Oh. Oh damn it he snapped in public. The whole library was looking at him. He usually never snapped like this. Oh damn it he made a mistake. The librarian at the desk was glaring at him, and suddenly the man next to him burst into laughter, and James turned. James shook his head and stomped out of the library, laptop at his side. He didn't stop until he felt a hand grasp around his wrist, and he turned around, all fury and anger and rage.
"What," he seethed, "Could be so important that you must bother me for the seventh time this week?" The man just stuck out a hand, dazzling white grin and all.
"I'm Thomas Jefferson."
"Why would I in the ever-loving fuck want to know your name."
"Well, you see, sir, you're my soulmate."Oh.
Maybe it was him, for once in his life, and James immediately calmed down.
"James Madison. I have one rule to those in my life."
"Yes?"
"Stop tapping every goddamn surface."
"Even you?" Thomas smirked. James crossed his arms.
"Can you exchange soulmates?"
"Rude."