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Alex misses his friends to the point where it almost hurts to merely think of them. He has a million things to tell them and he feels a letter would not be enough to encapsulate everything that has happened to him since they were all scattered around. He shivers. Winter is harsh on them, cold air wrapping around the tents, almost making him yearn for the overwhelming heat of the summer. He wonders often if the seasons are just as unbearable in Europe or if it is an American curse. Alex looks down at his paper, only to be met with the frustrating sight of the white sheet, devoid of the words he had meant to start writing an hour ago already. He groans, putting his quill down. A second later he is hiding his face in his hands, desperately trying to summon his focus on the task at hand. His mind has turned into a deep tangle of various thoughts now and he knows it’s a lost cause.
He sighs when a sound coming from behind him makes his head jerk in the direction of the noise.
“Bonsoir.” Lafayette says with a beaming smile painted on his lips. Alex doesn’t budge, eyes widening in surprise. When finally his body awakes, Hamilton sprints to his friend and shamelessly embraces him, their chests pressed together as he laughs joyfully.
“Lafayette! Why- How- what are you doing here?”
The Frenchman chuckles, visibly enjoying the excitement piercing through Alex’s voice. His hair is tied in its usual bun, his kind brown eyes shining with something the smaller man cannot quite describe - perhaps relief?
“Le Général asked for me to return after I was wounded in the leg. I was looking forward to seeing John and Hercules too but I suppose I am too late. It seems they’ve gone away already.” Alex nods and gestures towards the table, inviting his friend to sit. The taller man seems grateful for the offer and settles in the nearest chair, limping slightly as he moves. Alex cannot believe his eyes.
“I am genuinely delighted to see you, mon ami.”
“Moi également, Alex. I have missed you greatly. I had no one to stargaze with at night.” He smiles softly, the low light of the candles casting dancing shadows across his handsome face. Hamilton finds himself hypnotized by the sight, his own gaze stuck on the details of Lafayette’s features : the small scar under his right eye from battle, the little smirk stretching his lips that allows a glimpse of his perfectly white teeth, the sharp angle of his jaw. Alex has always thought Lafayette was a beautiful man but right now he is particularly struck by his gracefulness.
“You are staring. Has my face turned unrecognizable to you in such a short amount of time, dear Monsieur Hamilton?” He taunts, leaning forward towards Alex.
The smaller man shakes his head as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. He scratches his neck awkwardly.
“Of course not. I was just lost in my thoughts, I apologize.” It earns him a giggle from his friend. For as long as Alex has known him, Lafayette has always been a very merry, honest person. He is easy to read. And yet in that moment Alex can’t tell what is going through his friend’s head, who is now staring right back at him.
“What were you thinking about then?” His accent is thick, most likely due to tiredness. It is late, Alex can tell because when he glances at the open side of the tent, the sun barely lights up the camp outside. He avoids the question.
“We should go to my quarters. It will be warmer there.” Lafayette nods and slowly gets back on his feet, wincing when he puts weight on his wounded leg. He is about 4 inches taller than Alex, forcing the lieutenant-colonel to look up at his face. The Frenchman gestures towards the exit as if to invite his friend to lead the way. Alex accepts, taking a step forward. He shivers as soon as they’re out, the wind whistling loudly in their ears. His feet sink in the snow, the cold biting his skin and turning his complexion red. Alex is pushed to the side by a violent gush of wind and his body collides into Lafayette’s who puts his big hands on the smaller man’s shoulders.
“Careful.” He says simply, his voice particularly sweet. It stirs something in Alex's chest that he dares not name. The only response he finds suitable is a nod and it seems to work as a signal for them to continue moving.
They wobble through the snow and the aggressive weather, battling against the blizzard.
Alex pushes the door of his quarters and slams it shut behind them, stopping the snow from slithering inside. He sighs in relief and sits on his bed. Lafayette is on the one opposite his - the one that used to be Lauren's before he left. There’s silence for a moment, each of them staring back at the other. It’s like they can't believe they're actually together in the same room, like they struggle to realise that they are no longer lonely.
“So,” Lafayette starts, getting back on his feet. A pained wince flashes on his face again, this time lasting longer, and Alex practically runs to his rescue, holding him up. They sit on Alex’s bed together, their knees brushing gently.
“What have you accomplished since our departure?” He ponders, the rough sound of the French R sounding almost melodious to Alex’s ears.
“I've mostly written for Washington, trained my aiming, wrote to Jack and yourself and… I had a most unfortunate incident.” He laughs awkwardly and Lafayette cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly akin to a confused puppy.
“Well, I came to realize I’m an awful kisser.”
Lafayette chuckles, visibly confused by the confession. He shifts on the mattress, straightening his back.
“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion, dear Alex?” Lafayette ponders, leaning closer to the lieutenant-colonel. He’s so close now that the smaller man can see the mix of browns in his eyes, he can feel his warm breath on his skin. Blood rushes to his face, moving back instinctively. He stammers a few incomprehensible words before clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his composure.
“I- I was challenged to kiss Lee- we had drunk a lot before, trust me, otherwise I would NEVER have said yes - because they have all heard of the effects of my charms on ladies, whatever that means, however afterwards he laughed and said I was a horrible kisser.”
Alex mumbles, his gaze drifting away from his friend out of embarrassment. The Frenchman chuckles softly, putting a gentle hand to Alex’s. His breath hitches and his honey colored hand shakes underneath Gilbert’s soft brown one.
“That’s ok. I’m sure Lee was only teasing you.”
“I won’t know until I marry.”
The silence that follows this statement makes Alex worried he has said something wrong, but when he looks up at his friend, the Frenchman's eyes are still riveted on him, a taunting grin stretching his lips.
“Well… You could know. Now.” Alex’s heart skips a beat and he feels his soul escape his body for a second. Did Lafayette just suggest they kiss? The smaller man’s brain, frozen by the cold, slowed down by tiredness, tries to make sense of what has just been offered, the words lingering in the air between them.
“Alexander?” The taller man whispers, and he gets goosebumps. Lafayette’s nose brushes against his, making Alex flinch. His cheeks have turned hot now and he can’t even remember what coldness felt like on his face.
“Now I’m intrigued ! I want to know if I’m a good kisser, and if Lee is right. Would you like to volunteer to rate me? Besides, it’ll be good practice if you’re as bad as he says.” Alex, who never stops talking, who always knows what to say, who has never run out of words in his life, is completely speechless. He looks down at Lafayette’s lips and thinks that, indeed, it would be good practice. He nods silently and his friend is quick to react.
Lafayette’s hand settles on his jaw and the pad of his thumb brushes against Alex’s lower lip. His movements are calculated, gentle, his palm is warm, his hold anchors the smaller man in the moment. Great practice, he thinks repeatedly almost obsessively.
When he gets a taste of Gilbert for the first time, it’s not what he had expected. The kiss is chaste, almost shy. He can feel every crack on Lafayette’s lips against his own, he can hear the whistle of his own almost frenetic breathing, Lafayette’s full beard feeling a bit itchy where his own lacks. Alex only realises he had been really tense when he finally relaxes his shoulders, allowing his hands to find Lafayette’s sides. The kiss is endless and Alex cannot focus on anything outside of the heat emanating from the other man’s mouth, on the sensation that nothing else is real but Lafayette, his lips, and the hand that is grounded on Alex’s jaw. It’s sweet, perhaps the sweetest thing Hamilton has ever experienced. The tenderness in Lafayette’s hold takes a weight off his shoulder. It even lifts the pressure off his rib cage, the one that comes from the stress of the war and the sorrow engraved in his soul from a young age. He almost feels like he can breathe better. When Lafayette pulls back, Alex feels disappointed, like he had expected the blissful experience to last longer.
“Hey, good news is, Lee lied. You’re not bad at all.” He grins and Alex rolls his eyes, pushing his friend’s shoulder playfully. “I knew he was a fucking liar, I’m better at French kissing than the Frenchman.” He jokes and Lafayette laughs loudly, his pretty curls bouncing on his head as his body is shaken by his amusement.
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself mon cher Alex, I think you still need some practice, and I don’t mind helping at all.”
His voice comes out almost as a purr, his beautiful brown eyes riveted on Alex’s face. He feels himself grow redder, wondering when Lafayette became so teasing. The man has always been playful but in a most energetic, almost childish way. They were only boys when they met, after all. But now Lafayette sounds rather flirty, his voice low and carrying a mischievousness that worries Alex slightly, although it would be a lie to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.
“Oh? So you would give me kissing lessons then?” He mocks, but Lafayette silently retorts with a confident and genuine nod, excitement glimmering through his gaze.
That’s how it all begins. At first, Hamilton and Lafayette just wait for the end of the day, locking themselves in their shared quarters to kiss. The Frenchman takes it all very seriously, giving his friend real advice before encouraging him to retry and do better, and Alex does, obediently so.
“You should tilt your head a little bit more.” Gilbert suggested and a second later the smaller man does as told, his lips locked with his friend’s. Things never feel sexual with the Frenchman, despite his tongue slowly slipping inside Alex’s mouth. It’s tender, it’s delicate, it feels like sunlight after a bleak day. It does wonders for Alexander’s mental health, giving him a sense of comfort he had been greatly lacking since his friends had all departed. The best part is arguably the time they spend together afterwards. They lay in bed together, their limbs tangled in a mess of arms and legs, keeping each other warm as they laugh lightheartedly. Gilbert often stares at Alex with a fondness brighter than all the stars in the sky. It makes that strange tingly feeling reemerge in Alex’s stomach, the one that keeps him up at night as he replays the dream-like memories of them kissing, silently reliving every little detail, every little sensation.
There’s one night after an intense kissing training, during a particularly harsh winter day, where they just can’t bear to separate : indeed, the Frenchman would usually return to his own bed once they deemed they were soon to fall in the arms of Morpheus. This time though, Gilbert is sound asleep in Alex’s bed, their chests pressed together and the smaller man can hear their heartbeats harmonizing into a beautiful melody. He stares up at the Frenchman, his dark skin glimmering under the moon’s silver embrace and Alex is in complete awe of him. He watches Gilbert sleep peacefully, his lips slightly parted as he breathes through his mouth, eyes shut, tilting his head one way or another to find a more comfortable position. Alex feels like he is witnessing a religious apparition, a sort of miracle akin to being the sole spectator of one of the hidden wonders of the world. He barely sleeps that night, too enamoured with the blissful sight to even think about blinking let alone close his eyes.
This little game between them goes on for a while, and each day the kissing lasts longer. Lafayette pretends longer sessions are more beneficial for Alex’s progress but the smaller man can tell his friend just doesn’t want it to end either. Much like himself. They never really talk about it though, the lingering feeling that they are stepping into something much bigger than just a silly kissing training growing heavier on them but never really being acknowledged or discussed. Gilbert teases Alex all the time about blushing every time the Frenchman pushes his tongue into Alex’s mouth, but he doesn't remain quite neutral either. Hamilton notices the way his hands quiver when Alex talks about him being his favorite kisser, or how Gilbert bites lightly on his own bottom lip when Alex laughs at one of his jokes. They’re very slowly drifting into a new, unknown kind of relationship, one that ignites something deep inside them, something that threatens to swallow them whole, but neither of them wants to give in. They’re too scared of misunderstanding the other’s signs, to make a move that would result in one awkward moment. So they simply continue to pretend, to flirt back and forth without ever bringing up the feelings beginning to seep into their heads and hearts.
They’re cuddling in bed when things shift. Alex lays his head on Gilbert’s chest, eyes closed. They’ve grown accustomed to this situation, always ending up exactly like this, with Alex’s face pressed against the other man’s torso, listening to the rhythm of his heart as the Frenchman plays with his dark hair, scratching his head gently and twirling his curls.
“Alex?” He calls and the smaller soldier rolls to look up at him through his lashes. Lafayette stays silent, looking down at those big doe eyes slightly brightened by the shallow light cast by the candle. Alex looks singularly soft here, his gaze making the Frenchman blush. His eyes are beautiful, Gilbert thinks, and he can’t resist putting a hand to Alex’s chin, his thumb brushing the man’s lower lip. Wordlessly, they just observe each other as if discovering one another for the first time.
“Tu es magnifique…” Gilbert murmurs, and Alex’s face turns red.
“Shut up,” he groans, visibly a bit shy.
“Why?”
“Because that’s… too romantic.” He chokes out, looking away. Gilbert’s hand settles harder on his chin and forces him to gaze up at him again.
“But it’s true.” Lafayette retorts, before leaning forward to kiss Hamilton gently. Alex crawls up and sits on his friend’s chest, bent in half, cupping his cheeks to press his lips to Lafayette’s. This one is the longest kiss they share, and neither of them thinks of it as practice, although neither of them admits it. Passion drips out of them both as they tilt their heads to taste more of each other. It’s so good it makes Alex feel dizzy, lost in the feelings submerging him. It’s almost cathartic, Gilbert’s hands anchored on his hips, Alex’s on the Frenchman’s cheek and neck. No words are needed, they understand the implications of that kiss. It’s much too eager for it to mean nothing. When they break apart they’re both breathless, gasping and chuckling. A string of saliva connects their lips, as if embodying - in one odd way - the bond this kiss just sealed between them.
“Alex…” Lafayette starts but the smaller man puts a finger to his mouth and shakes his head slowly, smiling. “No, my turn,” he orders and Lafayette shuts his mouth obediently, “you- ugh - you drive me nuts. You’re beautiful and kind and you make me feel so good that I don’t think I could handle being away from you for too long again. To hell with the kissing practice, I like you. ”
The words spill out of him like water pours out of a bottle and there’s no stopping them from filling the room with an unexpected air of romanticism. Lafayette blinks a few times, a visibly staggered expression painted on his face. And then he breaks out into a fit of laughter, his hands sliding up to Alex’s cheeks, cupping them delicately.
“I thought you would never admit any of this,” he chortles, brushing a chaotic strand of dark hair out of Alex’s face.
“I would never admit?? You didn’t admit anything either, you kept flirting with me !” He pouts, only making Gilbert laugh louder. The Frenchman sits up and hugs Alex’s body, his face pressed to the smaller man’s chest. He caresses his back, pecks his jaw and Alex folds, abandoning the pout for a small smile.
“Okay, I admit it too then. You are beautiful, incredibly intelligent, and are my favorite person to hold, mon coeur.” He finally looks up at Alex and the bastard’s heart stops. The other man’s big dark eyes are a mesmerizing void, a starry night from which one cannot look away. His long lashes curl and move in slow motion as he blinks innocently, his lips voluptuous and slightly pinkish.
“I think I still need some practice…” Alex murmurs as a mischievous smirk stretches his lips again. Lafayette’s tongue gently passes over his mouth to wet his lips and he nods, pulling Alex into a new passionate kiss. It seems endless, their tongues dancing a delicate waltz as they get their millionth taste of each other. They finally break apart, but Alex already yearns for more.
“Well, Monsieur Hamilton, I can safely say you have made great progress through my training.” Lafayette claims proudly, visibly boasting as he straightens his posture and grins.
“I suppose you’re right, Monsieur Lafayette, your teachings are quite effective.”
“Still… we should continue to make sure you reach your true potential.” And Alex laughs, because they sound so ridiculous. He agrees regardless and they spend the rest of the evening kissing, limbs tightly interwoven in a loving embrace, under the moon’s silent agreement.