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“Fuck, that was good”
Jefferson hummed in agreement from his position to Hamilton’s right. He took in his surroundings, coming down from his high slowly. The cheap paintwork of Hamilton’s ceiling, the crinkled sheets tangled around his feet, their clothes discarded on the floor, the way Hamilton’s hand was inches from his, the sound of his heart beating in time with the man laid next to him. God, he was in too deep. There was no denying that he was in love with Alexander Hamilton. He was irresistible. Beautiful eyes, hair, body, mind, soul. What had started as casual sex was now a complicated one-sided mess that consumed Jefferson’s waking hours.
He curled into Hamilton’s shoulder, able to pass it off as simply being cold - nothing suspicious at all. Feeling Alexander exhale, he traced fingers over his chest absentmindedly, making the man let out a deep chuckle. He inhaled, noticing the faint scent of his own lavender moisturiser in Hamilton’s skin. He wished that it didn’t have to come to this- looking for the tiny pieces of evidence linking them together like some sort of conspiracy theorist.
He knew he was lucky with what he had. They’d been sleeping together at least twice a week for three months. Jefferson did the math in his head. That means they’d slept together what, twenty six times? This was pathetic and he knew it. Hamilton was out of reach.
The evidence? Number one- Their jobs relied on the fact that they argued constantly. Number two- They explicitly agreed not to take this out of a casual context. Hamilton, the arrogant asshole, even made him sign a document to agree not to fall in love with him. Number three- He was definitely not Hamilton’s type. He’d sneaked around the apartment, sure. He assured himself that he didn’t have an obsession as he snooped through Hamilton’s search history, looking for porn preferences.
“You awake?” Hamilton’s murmur snapped him back to reality. His cheeks burned as he realised that he’d been lying on the man’s chest for far too long. He groaned, pretending to be asleep. He was comfortable, and embarrassingly desperate for Hamilton’s touch. Letting his body fall limp, he tried to cover up his mistake. He let out a gentle makeshift snore and nestled further into Hamilton’s shoulder.
“You know you’re terrible at pretending to be asleep,” Hamilton laughed, condescending. Jefferson’s cheeks were roasting, knowing he’d been caught. He rolled to his side of the bed, avoiding Hamilton’s gaze. Two sighs filled the silence. One of frustration, and one of heartbreak. Indistinguishable, but still holding meaning in Jefferson’s eyes.
He decided it would be best for him to just get some sleep. The two had work in the morning, and it was already too late for him to make it home. Jefferson had started keeping clothes at Alexander’s place, anyway. As much as the domesticity pained him, it was only convenient considering the amount of time that they spent together. He whispered a goodnight to Hamilton before letting himself drift into dreamless sleep.
He awoke at 5:30 that morning. Watching Hamilton’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, he wondered about what the man was dreaming. Deciding he needed a smoke, he reached to put the sheets over Alexander, knowing he’d be sensitive to the cold, and lifted himself from the bed.
He didn’t care that he was wearing only boxers. It was July and the room was warm enough. Anyway, even if he did wake up, it wasn’t like Hamilton hadn’t seen it all before. He reached for his cigarettes and lighter, and perched himself on the windowsill, cracking the window open slightly. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, watching the sunrise while destroying his lungs. Imagining what life could have been like if he’d married a woman, made his family proud. No, instead, he was 35, and the only love he received was Alexander’s meaningless blowjobs. It was another five minutes before he began to feel tears prickling at his cheeks. His feet were numb from the cold, and the colours were starting to fade from the sky. The world was waking up, and it was a lonely world without Hamilton.
“You really shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you.”
His head twisted to notice Hamilton lying on his side, facing him. He snorted, taking a long drag and turning back towards the window.
“Fuck off,” he grunted, sick of hearing the same lecture as always. He looked at the half-smoked butt in disgust. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but it suited a disgusting person. “Please leave me alone.” Mistake one- his voice broke. Mistake two- he jerked his arm violently, throwing the cigarette to the floor. Mistake three- by the time Hamilton had leapt to his side, wrapping an arm around him, he was sobbing.
He pushed Hamilton away, aggressive.
“I don’t understand.”
“I told you to leave me alone, motherfucker.” Jefferson spat, reaching to grab the cigarette from the floor. Disgusting. For once, Alexander Hamilton was speechless. The moment was equally heartbreaking and satisfying, hearing the smack of Hamilton’s lips as he tried to form the words he thought would help. Jefferson knew there are only three words that could possibly help, three words he’d never hear from those lips. Lips that were so familiar, yet so distant. The two’s relationship was a series of contradictions that he both embraced and hated. The contradictions grounded him. They were truer than anything else in this reality.
He was painfully aware that Hamilton still stood an arm’s length away, staring at him. He took another cigarette from the packet and lit it, turning to watch the cars on the street below.
Hamilton simply reached forward and pulled the smoke from his lips. Jefferson blinked, not processing the man’s actions. Hamilton reached to the window and dropped the whole packet through the small crack, before cupping Jefferson’s jaw and gently linking their lips.
“What the fuck?” Tears were once again threatening to spill.
“You can’t let an addiction control your life.” His jaw clenched in frustration with the words.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He needed this.
“I’ll show you.” An index finger raised his chin. Their eyes met, foreheads touching. Warm lips ghosted over his own, cold hand working its way into his hair- another contradiction. It took a moment for Jefferson to notice the loss of contact. He knew that he was crying, and he knew that Alex was whispering gently, rough fingers catching tears.
“I’m serious, Thomas. You’re going to end up killing yourself.” Jefferson snorted. He was sure that Hamilton knew he would never listen.
“That’s the point.” The two’s eyes met, Alexander shooting him a look of warning. Jefferson exhaled heavily, his voice threatening to crack. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
“Don’t say that,” Hamilton replied, his voice a whisper. “You know I love you too. I mean, God, isn’t it obvious?” Jefferson broke. Alexander stayed by his side, playing with his hair, whispering assurance. He understood that everyone breaks eventually- inevitable.
“I love you.” He mumbled into Hamilton’s neck, regaining his breath between hiccups.
“Y’see if you didn’t smoke, you wouldn’t be panting so hard,” the man laughed, placing a gentle kiss on Thomas’ forehead. He cracked a smile.
“Get fucked, Alex.” The smile widened.
“First name basis?” Hamilton cocked his eyebrow, a smirk decorating his face.
“We’ve been having sex for over three months.” Jefferson took a final wipe at his cheeks and pushed Alexander back to the bed playfully.
“Didn’t take long to fall in love with me though, huh?” He fell onto the bed, still warm.
“I hate you.” He curled into Hamilton’s arms.
“I love you too, but we should probably talk about this tomorrow.” Jefferson nodded in agreement.
“It is tomorrow,” he observed, eyes drifting over to the window lighting the room. Hamilton chuckled and his world lit up.
“C’mon, we should probably get some more sleep.” Thomas hummed a gentle reply, letting himself drift into nothing, surrounded by the man who meant everything.