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Chapter Text

This is how it starts.

--

Alexander had only realised how late it was when the melted stub of his candle extinguished- leaving its silver effacements to trail in the soft moonlight. He cursed quietly at his forgetfulness- eyes feeling hot and heavy as he rubbed them with the palm of his hand to try and stay awake. It was almost a miracle he was still allowed in his office at such hours, just the faint scratches of his worn quill on parchment and the settling groans of the building. Hamilton huffed slightly at the inconvenience of the disruption, although he was sure he was wading through unconsciousness as he gradually got to his feet to search for another candle. Since when were the drawers of the closet so far away from his desk? Since when were there so many crumpled up pieces of paper on the floor? His mind lulled in this strange doldrums, pushing aside the rejected plans and scribbled out sentences that had missed the trash by metres. He was almost glad for he semi-darkness, the blue light gleamed against the polished wood floors to guide him, but did not fully reveal the disheveled state of the room.
The tallow candle felt soft and cool, giving brief respite for his ink-stained fingers for just a moment. Alexander tapped lightly against his tinderbox, chewing at his lip as he thought back to when it was gifted to him from Eliza (his thoughtful Eliza) many years ago. His memory ebbed a little in his sleep-deprived state, trying to place the words on what she had said when she smiled and gave it to him. He traced along the small grooves in the metal trying to conjure up the memory- flickers of her fathers ornate house and the luscious garden they had walked through in their honeymoon stages. The memory was almost comforting, like a dream, until his senses were raised back quite suddenly into the present at the sound of faint footsteps echoing in the halls. He arched his back straighter, trying to tuck back his hair to vague presentability as it fell over his eyes. Who would it be at this time? Speaking of, what time was it exactly?

The footsteps grew gradually louder and slower, as if the walker was taking supreme care not to be heard. The shuffled steps stopped close to his door, pausing for what seemed like several minutes. Alexander sat, silent and still, awaiting for any accompanying knock or cough indicating someone who wanted to see him. He frowned in confusion as he heard someone sigh deeply outside, and the footsteps ebbed back into the night. Forgetting any semblance of what he was writing, Hamilton slipped on his coat- now a dark ivy colour in the pale darkness. The door was almost silent, allowing him to slip out of his office and out of the building. Looking back, Hamilton squinted up at a distant window which was lit by candlelight, the only one left in the building. Jeffersons office, he could of sworn- but for all his addled brain knew was that he was tired, and any broom-closet or toilet could be just an equal equivalent for that mans working space. An unintentional smile grew over Hamilton's face as he promptly buried it in the mess of sheets and pillows- the absence of his wife while she was upstate meant that the dishevelled man was left to himself for his own care- something he was quite incapable of doing.

--

Nights spent in his moonlit office were rare, often Hamilton was forced out or locked out when his back was turned- probably some effort by the President and others who were trying to preserve his health. But he didn't need it. He needed to work. He needed to pass his bill.
So naturally Alexander spent the nights crouched over his overflowing desk at his home, letting his eyes grow darker in the peach sunrise that reminded him to try and sleep an hour or so before he left. The ink stains and pen markings scarred his worn desk intelligibly- pots of ink dry and forgotten rolled under his chair or into dusting corners.

Alexander didn't know the time, yet could only guess it by the sky in its burst of red and amber just before the night came again, when he was disturbed by a knocking at the front door.

He opened it cautiously, sleepy eyes growing wider at the shuffled figure who almost folded in on himself anxiously at his doorstep- that, and the overwhelming surge of purple.

"Mr Jefferson," Alex paused, looking up and down at the dishevelled mass of dark curled hair and creased velvet, "What are you doing here?"

Jeffersons breath seemed to hitch a little, shaky and quiet as he looked at Alexander with eyes that seemed familiar- like something Alex had felt before.

"I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I came here with no one else to turn to."
Jefferson almost looked pleading, lost and confused. Hamilton and never seen the man so defensive. So... helpless.

"I don't know where to go anymore and I don't have any means to go on, Hamilton I really need some help."
Thomas gestured to the ground, seemingly wanting it to swallow him up. His hands fidgeted. Alexander understood.

"Of course," Alexander's face furrowed as Jefferson bit gently on his lip, "should thirty dollars suffice for now?"

He almost cursed himself for his brashness. For now. That meant this would happen again. Alex was about to take back his statement but the way Jefferson looked surprised, if not a little shocked with Hamilton's proposal made him pause.

"You're too kind, thank you."
Alexander nodded as he turned to go back to his study and give Jefferson the money, but he froze as Thomas clutched at his arm and stared back at him silently.

"Not now. Could you, perhaps, give it to me tonight?"
Jefferson looked back at the floor again, biting his lip until it seemed pink against his flush skin. His grip on Hamilton was almost vicelike, yet seemed desperate enough that any concern over what he meant by this was swept aside.

"I live a block away, I'm staying at an inn. If you could visit me then, I would be alway indebted to you."

Why Jefferson was staying there Hamilton had no idea. Was he really in such a state that he couldn't live in any grand home he had? Jefferson let go of his arm, balling his hands into fists and he began to step away from the doorway.

"I'll see you there."

Alexander watched how Thomas seemed to jump at that, trembling a little as he smiled back towards him. Alexander smiled back too, although he was unaware his body was doing the these things to a man he had spent countless hours debating and hating. Once the door was closed he slid his body down it, resting arms on his knees and leaning his head against the varnished wood.

What was he doing?

Chapter Text

The non-stop babbling and bartering and clatter of carts and the bark of hounds led by their leads that usually suffused the streets of city by day almost seemed non-existent to Alexander as he walked on the empty pavement. The windows of houses were shut up, barring candlelight from spilling out onto the worn cobbles. He almost missed the squinting sunlight as the moonlight was scarce- making his actions even more questionable and the money even heavier in his coat with very passing step. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, they still felt a little raw where he had scrubbed at the ink stains in a half-assed attempt to make himself seem less disheveled. It hadn't worked.

The air was cold as Hamilton looked up at the sign for the inn, the place was if anything a little rundown- with its crimson paint peeling slightly from the doorframe. He brushed specks of it off his jacket as he opened the door, the flecks clung to him in his rush- sticking into the emerald fibres around his shoulders.

It seemed almost intrusive of him to rouse the elderly woman who slumped in the makeshift desk, even more so as she peered up at him through small spectacles as he repeated his question:

"Mr Jeffersons room?"

The woman was of no help, muttering in indistinguishable quietness at she flicked through each page of the record book. Shaking fingers tracing down the illegible names and dates, tapping occasionally at some word but hastening onwards until she slammed both of the covers together and pointed Hamilton upstairs to the left. He thanked her with a nod of his head- but the gentile lady was too preoccupied with her dozing to notice him creep up the stairs and shuffle towards the only lit door in the hallway.

Hamilton stopped in front of the door. Edges of light filtered through the doorframe- almost haloing the doorknob. It was faint, so faint, but Alexander swore he could hear the man pacing inside and tapping his cane against the hardwood. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alexander raised a hand to knock- but froze as a sob infiltrated the near-silence. It was singular. An almost choked and held back cry that stuttered out from hands covering his mouth. Hamilton breathed deeply, forgetting for Jeffersons sake and feigning ignorance, as he knocked gently against the door.

"Hamilton."

Jeffersons silhouette stood tall against the golden light that basked the room in copper and rose tones behind him, he was stripped of his velvet jacket that hung on the back of a nearby chair- his face seemed almost too calm to be the one that had uttered such a pitiful sound.

However, his voice wasn't.

"You came," Jefferson stuttered only a little but enough for him to straighten up further and gulp in air, "You actually came here."

"It wasn't any trouble Jefferson, I have the money if you would want to take it now?"
Alexander reached into a pocket and fumbled for the wad of paper he had haphazardly stuffed there, he stopped as he felt the Jeffersons heavy gaze on his hands.

"Come in first Hamilton, it's the least I can offer after you must have disrupted your schedule to help me," Thomas stepped aside to let Hamilton through, "please."

The room was not as well lit as it seemed. The candles covering the desk illuminated at least a third of the room in a shimmering glow, but from then harsh shadows protruded into the faded mahogany darkness. The bed was draped in a coral blush, the creases in the blankets grew soft black shadows that eventually enveloped the bed frame. The window was fixed in place with slats covering like cheap blinds over the glass, with the pitch outside Alexander could barely gauge the time.

"Thank you again, I know this is informal and shouldn't interfere outside of our personal lives Hamilton."

Hamilton perched in the slightly rickety chair, afraid of leaning back as it creaked ominously. Jefferson shut the door and sat down of the side of the bed, his hands shook a little as silence filled the air with an uncomfortable heat.

"I agree, although do not hesitate if such a thing happens again," Alexander paused to watch Jefferson fiddle with the corners of his magenta waistcoat, "I am glad to put aside any differences to help you."

"If there's anything I could do to repay you, perhaps?"
Hamilton's chest felt a little tighter as the man laughed at the crude joke, he joined in shakily, watching the Virginians legs shift apart slowly. It almost seemed tempting.
No, it was Jefferson- and he was tired, that's all. He found himself smiling nervously as he pried his eyes away back to the loose curls that framed his face.

"I'll consider it Jefferson," Hamilton chuckled again and rose from the precarious seat and smoothed out the lapels of his jacket, "I should head back home."

Thomas turned quiet as Hamilton retreated towards the door again, turning away from the man as he reached out for the handle.

"Wait."

Jefferson abruptly thrust his hands over his mouth. Fortunately Hamilton was still facing the doorway, but he didn't miss the hitch in the other mans voice as he stood there- trembling.

"Stay?"
Thomas took several quick steps toward the shorter man, Hamilton seemed to have stopped mid-breath and was as still as stone.

Alexander's mind was at a blank. He felt the shadow of Jefferson towering behind him, yet could do nothing to turn himself or to leave. His mouth felt dry and words foreign. Heart almost palpitating in his ribs. He wanted him to stay.

"Hey..."

Alex muttered, facing up to Jefferson and withholding a breath as he did so. The man looked crumpled and desperate, curls falling over his forehead and eyes wide and pleading. His face was shaded in a flush of blood to his cheeks, lips clenched together in an attempt to take back what he had said.

"Hey," Jefferson took another step forward, tongue darting out over his lips.

Hamilton looked up, leaning forward to the warmth of the taller man.

Jefferson bent down toward his mouth.

Hamilton didn't say no.

He wrote it on strokes in Thomas's mouth, over and over as he swallowed the fervent moans from those perfect lips. He said it in his eyes as Jefferson pressed their foreheads together- hands stripping him of his jacket and waistcoat and throwing them aside. He pressed it against Jeffersons dark chest and he pushed them backwards into the bed, feeling the man clutch at his back and entangled his fingers in his hair. He bit it into his neck, revelling in the shuddered gasps left by red butterfly marks that fluttered on his skin.

He just didn't say no.

Well, you know how it goes.

Chapter Text

There really was nothing like summer in the city.
Alexander remembered how in the early morning muted cyan streaks left by the stars would discolour cream clouds like paint splatters. How the indigo night was pulled aside like curtains into the brilliant sunshine. Alexander remember how Eliza would yawn as she flooded their bedroom with light like this every morning- stands of her dark hair would fall into his eyes when she leant over him to kiss him awake. He remembered how he would smile.

Then he remembered where he was.

The room was still dark and Alexander felt the hot shivers of last night grow up his spine- he stretched out a little in the cheap covers. Five silver lines from the sunrise were painted on the floor, the light was sharp as it protruded out from the gaps in the blinds.

He wiggled a little, hoping to shuffle his body out of the bed quietly. He peeked through the darkness at the figure lying next to him. He could see the familiar dark curls (he tried to forget how he had tugged at them last night), a defined neck sloping to a shoulder (he tried to forget his path of violet and red flowers he had laid there last night) and the soft rise and fall of the mans chest (he tried to forget the gasping and panting noises he had made last night).

Jefferson was still asleep when Alexander rose and began dressing himself in the half-obscurity. His clothes were almost strewn around everywhere- except for the folded jacket on the chair. Alexander smoothed out the creases thoughtfully, prying the flecks of red paint out with his thumb and forefinger from the emerald linings. The process was almost cathartic, he tried to push away the sobering questions of last night. His voice was quiet and frail as he was consumed in his work:

"How could I do this?"

Hamilton jumped at the groan that came from Jefferson almost instantly- yet as he softly read a little closer to the man he was still slumbering. His long eyelashes fluttering on the verge of wakefulness. Alexander bit his lip until it stung as he stared at his companion- his enemy. The man HE had slept with, succumbed to, been vulnerable to. Thomas Jefferson. Why didn't he say no?

His shoes tapped down the stairs quickly, the rest of he inn was void of any life (a relief) and Hamilton pushed open the door minding to not brush against the peeling frames. Billowing clouds swept over the rooftops like watching waves from under the waters surface. Alexander didn't feel like he was drowning, only managing to hold his breath for an indistinguishable amount of time until he carried himself up the steps into his own home.

From what the clock could say it was still in the very earliest of day, yet too late to sleep for a troubled mind. Alexander fiddled with the pen- it didn't feel comfortable as it usually did in his hands. It had too much weight to it. Like it was being held down by the words Hamilton wanted to say but didn't know yet. He watched the ticking of the clock instead- trying to ignore the burning memory of the bundle of notes left in the pulled back covers in Jeffersons bed.

Nobody needs to know.

Chapter Text

It was not a fault of his own that the feral tomcat naturally began to groom himself.
It started with the offhand comments and spat remarks of scruffy uniform and stray hairs when he was under the command of his somehow (despite the snows and sweltering summers) immaculate General. It was when he visited the Schuyler Ball that even his Eliza, not yet at that time his, giggled to the smirking Angelica with the wearing edges of his coat. Alexander didn't forget how every time he would enter a room he would smooth his hair and straighten out his coat- almost becoming more of a routine and ritual than necessary. It was only until after the war had he the money, time and oh-so patient wife blessed with the virtues of fashion and femininity to aid in his appearance.

Alexander denied his infatuation, yet could not stifle the pleased smile Eliza had whenever she saw him running his fingers across the stretched jade silk for just that little too long when it was hung up. The way it's fibres almost shone like hummingbird feathers- glowing with such animation and vivacity that his chest swelled a little as he slipped on the familiar skin each morning. Others be damned- he was proud in how different he was to the boy who first boarded the ship to New York.

Yet there were some physical aspects if himself that no amount of preening could satisfy. Like the way his skin would tone in the sunshine to hearty amber- the warmth of the Caribbean rising up in waves under his skin. Or the dark hair that hung loose behind his ears that, when wet, would curl into soft waves and almost beg to be tied back.
So it was in this particular moment that Hamilton wished he had followed the fashion, following Burr in purchasing an umbrella for himself as large droplets of rain began to fall between the slated rooftops. Dashing through the streets Hamilton clutched at his leather workbag and desperately tried to shield himself from the almost torrential downpour. There was no wind, nor thunder (Thank God) but the almost rhythmic stoning was enough to send him yelping into cover whenever he could get it. He would have left earlier, yet the bitter taste of last night had distracted Hamilton enough that only when the drum of rainfall could be heard against the windows that he rose from his writing desk. It had not been the first time he had been with a man, or awoken in an unfamiliar place with the scent of the night clinging to his skin- but the recurring memory of the curves of Thomas's skin made him itch in the water-stained jacket.

If it weren't for the cool water dripping down the back of his neck and chest, Hamilton would have be burned alive in embarrassment of the steely gaze from Washington as he entered. The President looked down (he always looked down at Hamilton physically, yet never saw the man as in a position of great unimportance) upon the shivering and irate man with distaste- raising an eyebrow as Alexander sputtered out various curses and excuses to his lateness. He simply dismissed this with a wave of a hand, speaking only to Hamilton although the power of his voice made it seem like the whole world could hear him.

"I've heard enough, I shouldn't excuse you Hamilton- yet the state of your appearance right now suggests that you did make an effort to arrive in some semblance of time."
Hamilton wrung his sleeves and began to access the damage of the monsoon on his body as Washington smiled and clasped his hands together behind his back. The emerald jacket looked more like seaweed now, dark splotches of where water had poured onto his shoulders and back. His cravat was ruffled almost unfashionably, shoes flecked with the black mud of the streets. Worst of all, his hair had unraveled from the usually pushed back and combed style into a soft waves in the damp- refusing to be tamed by his quick fingers as he ran them through the unruly mess. Great. Just great.

"Sir if I may, perhaps we could pass a law against inconveniencing weather?"
Hamilton smirked slightly, watching his wit causes the mans dark eyes to crease at the corners as he laughed.

"You may have trouble with passing that with the Southerners, I know how they favour the weather in aggravating their opponents."

Alexander enjoyed he almost back and forth between his general, Washington was always that to Hamilton even after the war. His temper had caused the man to lift the little lion out of fights by the scruff of his neck many times, yet he never grew wearisome of their almost colloquial banter. Even as Hamilton watched Washington grow into the position of a black suit and sword less belt, the man never ceased to be authoritative to him

"As luck would have it Hamilton, the cabinet meeting is delayed today as Jefferson hasn't arrived yet. If it weren't for that I'm sure your improper entrance would not have been so gently accepted."

The thought ran cold with the heat of last night. His smile was choked a little as he stiffened at the mention of the Virginian who, only just several hours before, had been indulging in him. Alexander couldn't, wouldn't let see thoughts surface. He knew too well of the magnifying glass like eye of Washington that seemed to be impervious to all shields he put up. A man so keen at reading the flashes of thoughts in his eyes.

"Did his coat-tails get caught in the door? Or perhaps the realisation that I am so very right about my financial plan simply stunned Jefferson into unconsciousness?"

The facade was back again, blinds pulled back over his eyes as the remarks laced with sparks flew from Hamilton's mouth. Yet there was no Jefferson to hear them, no tinder in which they could grow into a flame of debate as they often did, warming both men with the satisfaction of a intelligent argument. Instead the sparks hit dull against the unyielding rock that was Washington.

"It seems odd for the man to delay, and if I were you Hamilton I would not speak so easy of someone who cannot defend himself. It is not a virtue of men to be sly."

Alexander quickly shut his mouth, smiling felt wrong in the Washington's presence now. He had been expecting a scold for his insolence, but it was painful not knowing why Jefferson hadn't appeared. He didn't think it clearly, but Alexander suspected why in how Thomas had so desperately called for him- or how he had pressed himself into the kiss so sweet it felt Alex would never taste anything else again.

Alexander replayed the moments of the night as Washington parted with him, leaving the rain-drenched man to drop silently in the hall. That kiss, the embrace and all that followed it. What had he done? Would Jefferson say anything, could he be disgraced and shunned away from the cabinet? It seemed impossible that either of them could accuse the other of manipulation, but what if somebody knew? A thought struck him, like a bullet. What if Eliza knew?
He couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear how she would separate herself and the children away from him if she knew. How she would cry inconsolable tears and how the children would grow into a legacy of shame.
What if?

--

The meeting had taken place after all. By the Presidents orders they waited until midday, then deciding to just continue without the Secretary of State. Hamilton watched as the room felt uncomfortable without Jefferson. How often Madison would check his watch, cough, then look back to the door and repeat. The way Washington ran his palms over his forehead as the cabinet talked and talked and talked without any clear direction. Hamilton hated the most how his statements went unchecked, no rebuttal or scolding huff from the other side of the room. Just hums of acceptance and the topic was dropped. Hamilton fiddled with the corners of the paper, flicked the pen between his forefingers and tapped idly as the meeting drew to a close- uneventful and short. Alexander paused to watch a man whisper something to Madison, and how quickly he rose from his chair and hurried out of the room. Nobody else seemed to notice or care, but Hamilton watched with intrigue at how his eyes and widened with whatever news had been passed on. Hamilton rose soon afterwards at his first chance, dismissing himself with a bow to the President and ignorant crowd and darted out the door quietly to follow Madison. His tangled hair bounced in front of his eyes as Alex peered around the corner- holding his breath at the flash of purple he saw there. Peeking back again he saw Madison engaged in what seemed to be a hushed conversation with Thomas- judging by how he occasionally looked for other people. With his back against the wall Hamilton smoothed out his jacket, pulling strands of hair behind his ears and regaining a steady heartbeat, almost nonchalantly he sauntered out from the corner, ignorance being the best disguise he had figured.

"Ah Mr Jefferson! I was hoping I wouldn't get to see you all day."

Madison's surprise, then scolding look amused Alexander. He tried to smile, but the faint panic in Jeffersons eyes made it almost impossible.
It seems even more impossible then, as Jefferson smirked back and raised a coy eyebrow at Hamilton. All evidence of fear melting away in the charismatic charm of the Southerner.

"I could not torture the poor people in there for too long Hamilton, I'm afraid most of them will have gone quite mad having to listen to your babble without any interjection of sense."
Thomas leaned down more to Hamilton's level, leaning irritatingly on that so unnecessary decadent cane of his.

"At least this time we could agree on some to topics without your drawl slowing down the meeting Jefferson."

That was true at least, when the two fought (oh and they fought) many members there would just resign themselves to waiting until the fire dimmed into embers than try and stifle it. Often it would take a large chunk of time away from any actual work, most notably several hours on one occasion until they were escorted from the room still arguing.
Jefferson glared at Hamilton with a toothy smile, Alexander knew their ways of debate- but the game being played now was wholly unfamiliar territory. Was Jefferson just going to push aside everything from last night?

"Words from the tomcat that can't keep his mouth shut! I'm surprised that you didn't let your tongue run off without me."

"And then where did you run away to then?"
Hamiltons smirk faded as he quickly realised his mistake. Madison had been quietly fuming at Hamilton yet Jefferson was almost unfazed by this.

"It so happens that there was an accident with one of the servants in my house, I obliged to help and so I arrived perhaps a little more fashionably than I should."

The lie sounded like a thirteenth chime for the pair, Hamilton could only guess what really kept Jefferson away. Yet the statement seemed to wash over James unknowingly.

"How kind of you, and I didn't think demons could have a heart."

Jeffersons melodic and distinct laugh echoed as Hamilton heard the opening of doors and approaching footsteps. Madison practically pushed pact Hamilton as he marched back into the hall presumably to notify Washington of Jeffersons arrival. Almost as soon as he was gone Jeffersons smile faded- grabbing Alexander's arm and pulling him into a doorway in one of the connecting corridors.

"Jefferson what are you-"
Alexander's thoughts and mouth was silenced by the press of warm and soft lips against his own, his shirt was rigged painfully against him as Jefferson still held onto the front of the fabric- knuckles almost white. His eyes fluttered against Jeffersons tightly closed ones, brows furrowed in concentration as he claimed more of Alex's mouth. He didn't give any resistance- only deepening the kiss and relishing in the feeling of Jeffersons hand tugging at his hair. Alex gasped a little when he pulled away, lips swollen and pink.

"Did anyone ever tell you," Jefferson muttered as he bent down towards Alexander's ear "that you look so distractingly good with your hair like that?"

Alex pushed up on his toes to look more into Thomas's eyes, they still retained he rawness of last night but were filled with a darker sensation of something more. His lips grazed Jeffersons, as he answered:

"No, but you can be the first."

Chapter Text

When a hurricane rips through a town, whatever isn't torn by wind and slashed by rain is consumed by fire. The fire of thatch roofs and wooden buildings that collided with broken gas lights or candles- kindling into an inferno around the unconscious townsfolk. The hurricane would build the pyre, but it would light itself.

Perhaps he should of expected this then. Should expected the sparks that stuck hot in his chest, the way the flames locked up his ribs and curled around his heart. If what they were doing was the hurricane, Alexander could certainly feel the heat rising in the burning rubble around him.

Their storms became regular, a glance was all that was needed at the end of a long argument to indicate so much more. Never at work, but in the cramped and musty hotel rooms with the sweat dripping from Jeffersons forehead. Or most notably at Hamiltons own house, when he opened the door only to be pushed up against the wall with Thomas nipping at biting a trail down his throat. Hamilton didn't think of Eliza as their hands intertwined in rhythm on his bed, he had hid the portraits long before Jefferson would even arrive at his home. Couldn't think of anyone else when his mind was consumed with the low whimpers that came out of Thomas's kiss-swollen mouth. He never stayed. Either he would leave Jefferson curled in the blankets of the rented room, pausing only for a moment to brush back his curls as the man hummed. He would watch him meticulously dress, much slower than how their hurricane had torn them away, straighten his velvet coat and leave into the hushed night outside. He felt the warmth in the pile of banknotes he left in the blankets, or pressed into the taller mans hands as he shook his hand- almost like it was just a inconspicuous meeting.
Hamilton feared the heat left by the hurricane.

The first time he noticed it was during a cabinet meeting, with the two secretaries listening to the speaker about some issue that didn't really interest any of them. Alexander felt the warmth rise to his cheeks as Jeffersons long eyelashes lulled a little, closing his eyes and yawned, running a hand through his hair. He caught himself staring at the Virginian, snapping back to the topic and making sure to scowl in Jeffersons direction. It was careless of him, he knew, couldn't let people catch on. Couldn't let them. That didn't stop his hurried glances as he rose from his seat, or the brief passing in hallways.

Didn't stop how much it hurt when Jefferson didn't notice him back.
Why would he? Hamilton didn't know exactly what they had, but it wasn't anything like THAT. Not at all. He would burn and crumble into ashes and Jefferson would walk away unscathed from that fire. Jefferson didn't feel like that, if he did- why would he brush off Alexander's private meetings in his office? How stiff and formal they were together in the confines of Jeffersons room, only easing slightly at the familiar jabs and insults they grew accustomed to.

It was only a matter of time before he was burned alive.

--

"Hamilton you're being ridiculous! Virginia has already paid off its debts and now you expect the farmers to pay back what Wall Street can't?"

The flickering candlelight shone onto the heated faces of the two men as they fumed at each other- eyes squinting in loathing and completely ignorant to the signing assembly there. A show seen too many times to bother interrupting.

"If you had any sense Jefferson you would understand this is unpleasant but necessary, southerners like you might not like it but for the economy's sake it must be done."

Hamiltons eyes were practically lit up as the smaller man huffed at Jeffersons childish refusal to accept his ideas. He knew he man was intelligent, witty enough to match him in each clash but infantile enough to have a stuck-up sense of stubbornness.

"I just can't believe that you would think-"

"Enough! If you men can't think of anything original to say without resorting to shouting across he room then we might as well finish here. The cabinet meeting can proceed later."

Washingtons booming voice silenced the two, despite being softly-spoken the man was heard above all others. Hamilton felt blood rise to his cheeks as he flopped back down into his seat, embarrassed at the sly smile of the velvet Virginian as he flicked his coat tails under him and perched back onto his seat. The coy bastard.

He waited a little, shuffled his strewn papers together as Jefferson whispered to Madison- the room growing quieter as the various attendants filed out in the awkward calm. How dare he, how dare the great pretentious Thomas Jefferson be so stubborn. How dare that devil be wrapped up in such lavish purple. Hamilton still sulked to himself as he stomped back to his office, clutching at the mess of paper to his chest. The office was quiet and peaceful, it allowed a sigh to escape his tense jaws and place the papers down on the other documents littered across his desk. The sun was just beginning to roll under the silhouettes of chimneys, rays stretching out over the skyline and basking the window in a orange glow. Damn Jefferson, damn him and his attractive face.

"Hamilton are you in here?"
Thomas knocked softly at the ajar door, his earnest eyes peeking through the doorway and meeting with Alexander's surprised ones. The taller man smiled, eyes instantly half-lidded and confident, lips revealing his teeth.

"I wanted to apologise, for such immaturity today. I suppose you could accept this from me?"

Hamilton watched as Jefferson stepped inside, closing the door behind him and facing Alexander almost like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Apology accepted Jefferson, I won't understand your narrow-mindedness but I can appreciate when a man knows when he is so obviously wrong."

Hamilton turned away to conceal a smug smile, walking towards his desk and continuing to organise the papers there.

"I won't say I agree with you Hamilton, but I would suggest you at least see from this point of view. I've heard it can be very... beneficial."

Jefferson brushed his hands against Hamiltons back, feeling it tense and flinch under his gentle touch.

"Jefferson I don't know what you're talking about."

"Shh, I suggest you listen to me."

As Alex turned to face Thomas, the man stepped forward quickly- pressing the smaller man against the side of the desk. The wood bit into the back of his knees painfully, yet Hamilton couldn't move an inch forward without being nose to nose with Jefferson.

"I think you should be quiet and listen to Madison and I once in a while," Jefferson snaked his arms down Alexander's sides leaning forward even more to a whisper, "and perhaps you might learn something."

Alexander's eyes went wide as Jefferson began to kneel down, palming over Hamilton and fiddling with the buttons in his drawers as he licked his lips. Hamiltons heart thumped so loud it would have been impossible for Thomas not to hear it, impossible if he weren't preoccupied already. The blood in his veins felt so hot, burning his skin with every touch of Jeffersons hands and mouth.

"Jefferson- Thomas I don't-"

"Don't say no to this. I wouldn't say no to this."

Jefferson looked up at Hamilton, smiling through wet lips at the flushed man. Alexander bit red marks into his hand to stop any escaping sounds. He thought he tasted blood.

He couldn't say no.

Chapter Text

Of course New York City was busy, but today? It felt like the entire state had come out onto the streets. It was a Sunday, don't some people go to church?!

Hamilton ducked and swerved around the clustered groups of families, with young children tugging at their mothers arms, dodged the gaggle of young ladies whose skirts were wide enough to take up the pavement- practically fleeing the constant chatter and noise of the procession. He had only stepped out for a couple minutes, but already his hair was coming loose as he almost ran through the obstacle course that was the crowd. It set his nerves on edge, but was distracting. Distracting him from whatever gnawed at his mind in the silence, the memories and the worries.

Couldn't think about that. Think about now. Alexander muttered over and over to himself, he had a list. He had to get it. As he ducked a passing umbrella he thought of Eliza. Her letter to him.

'I hope you're keeping yourself safe. Eat well and sleep- your work can wait for health'
She was always so caring, sweet, his beautiful Eliza.

'Remember to leave the house to buy what you need, don't restrict yourself to just work my dear'
She was always the one who would wrap her arms around his shoulders- resting her head on the side of his and coax him back to bed in the middle of the night.

'I'll be home next weekend, yours fondly Eliza'

--

The small corner store was quiet, black shapes of passing figures danced across its murky windows like shadow puppets. The tinkle of a bell chimed in the doorway as Alexander paused for a second to collect himself from the almost pandemonium outside. Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out the crumpled and ink-stained list he had so hurriedly scribbled before rushing out the door. Candles, ink and sealing wax. Simple.

It was not, as it seems, that simple.
The shelves were in hideous disarray, books next to bottles and then pens and perfume. What sort of moron, Alex thought to himself as he rummaged through the picture frames to grab the candles, had organised this? The small man was almost comical, fuming red and puffed hair- struggling to hold sixteen candles, three pots of ink and a stick of red wax. With every step he felt the items wobble precariously in his grasp, Alex scowled at them harder hoping the sheer force of irritation alone would hold them there. He paid for them, narrowing his eyes at the accountant as he handed them the bills, a silent gesture of disgust for the shop. The bag he had brought with him was just too small. The items for, sure, but protruded out of the sides and came even closer to falling as Hamilton slung it over his shoulder. He could do this, he - Alexander Hamilton- was capable of returning home with all his purchases intact.

He shouldn't be surprised then, as he - Alexander Hamilton - found himself running after an escaping candle had been jostled out his bag and rolled down the streets. Too breathless to be self-conscious he bent over and almost tripped over his feet before the damn thing fell into a ditch. The wax was dirty, but fine. Hamilton certainly wasn't fine.
He straightened up and gently placed it back into the overstuffed bag, trying to compose himself as he neatened his hair and brushed out his collar. Out of the corner of his eye he recognised a mass of black curls from the sea of hats and hairdos. Alexander froze, making himself seem smaller as the familiar man navigated the crowd. He frowned, watching Jefferson trip and flinch at every passerby- his eyes darting over faces and staring at the ground. He obviously hadn't noticed him, yet Hamilton grew more curious as Jefferson approached unknowingly. His hands were shaking, clutching at the cane. His face seemed almost torn, frowning as the anxious lines grew around his forehead. The rise and fall of his chest was erratic, barely visible under his magenta coat that was almost wrapped around him. Was Jefferson...?

It came to him almost as suddenly as Jefferson bumped into someone- eye wide with a dangerous concoction of adrenaline and fear, Jefferson had social anxiety. It almost didn't make sense with his normal arrogant and lavish behaviour but it clicked into place as he recalled Jeffersons aversion to public speaking. Hamilton thought back to once he had overheard a hushed conversation between Jefferson and Madison- how the man had tried to so desperately talk his way out of speech. He didn't think much of it then, only scoffed at his enemies discomfort but now? It was different.
Thomas's lips began to move silently, the man shook violently- no one else had noticed yet but Alex but they surely would if the man curled up and had a panic attack in the middle of the street. Alexander caught his breath in his throat, almost striding forward and grabbing Jeffersons hand. At first he had recoiled, but as he looked down at the Alexander he let him intertwine their hands secretly. Thomas sighed and clenched his jaw, almost closing his eyes as Alex began to march them away from the crowd. What he was doing was stupid, reckless even, but he didn't miss the slow stroke of Jeffersons thumb against his palm as he dragged him across the cobbles. Almost every corner was populated, but the people thinned out as more houses replaced shops and the road was more separate from the Main Street. Hamilton didn't even realise where he was going until he was pulling out his key, unlocking the front door to his house and pulling the man inside.

When the door shut, the rabble of outside seemed to be muted almost instantaneously. The house was too quiet, just the steady breathing of Alexander mixed with the trembling man before him. Jefferson was staring down at the floor, his breath still ragged and his hands still shaking. Alexander gently lead him by the arm to the living room, gesturing to the chair there.

"Would you like anything to drink Jefferson?"

Alexander had absolutely no idea what he was doing, usually it was Eliza who would smalltalk with guests while he hid himself away in his study. Jefferson tried to utter a response, but opened his mouth and closed it- forcing his eyes shut as he couldn't say a word.

Oh.

Alexander was at his side quickly, holding his hand again as he knelt in front of the taller man. His knees were bouncing in the seat, the hand that wasn't holding Hamiltons clutching at the armrests so strongly it looked like it would be ripped clean off from the chair itself.

"Jefferson, Thomas- Look at me."

His eyes were red, tears beginning to creep out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Alexander wiped them away with his sleeve before holding Jeffersons face in his hand.

"Breathe, okay? Breathe and count with me."

Thomas stopped biting at his lip, the marks still so scarlet and new. Alexander counted slowly, Jefferson mumbling behind him. Gradually his breathing began to steady, the trembles fading away to just the warmth of their hands and the soft skin of his cheek.

"It's okay, you're okay. Do you know where you are?"

Thomas stuttered a little, tremors returning as he answered:

"I'm with you."

Alexander gulped, remembering every night they had shared. This was so tender and unexpected of the both of them, like the new blades of grass that rose up of the frost. So fragile.

"That's right. Everything's alright."

Alexander knelt there for what felt like sometime, both hands tangled with each other- listening to the Jeffersons breathing and trying not to be intoxicated by his almost spicy scent. When he rose, Thomas held on a little tighter to his hands- shaking his head and softly wining as Hamilton pulled away from him.

"Do you drink tea? Coffee? I think I have both?"

Thomas held out one finger, wrapping his arms around his knees as Alex entered the kitchen. What was going on? Why did he spend so long just holding the man, there was no passion- no implied want. Just him and Thomas.
He didn't understand it.

When he returned carrying a tray Jefferson was a little more presentable, tear stains wiped away from his eyes and sitting more upright in his chair. It didn't distract Hamilton from the fact he didn't dare drink his tea, instead staring anxiously at Alex in the opposite chair.

"Thank you Hamilton, for that. I don't usually go out often, I guess you can understand why now."

Jefferson trailed off, breaking his gaze to stare into the saucer.

"It's alright Thomas, I couldn't just leave you there. I understand."

"You do?"
Jefferson looked back to Alexander almost pleadingly, the anxious creases in his brow returning.

"Yes, I do." Hamilton stood up from the chair and moved back over to Thomas, looking down at the man reassuringly. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

He reached out for Jeffersons cup, place it aside and holding his hand again. He needed to be comforting to Thomas, to be there for him. He repeated the little patterns Jefferson and made in his palm, hoping it would calm him down a little.

Thomas whined again, pulling Alexander closer until their knees knocked together and Hamilton fell onto his lap. Alex would say he was surprised, but when their lips collided and Jefferson mouth opened a little invitingly- he just wouldn't say no. The smaller man shuffled forward, both legs straddling the Virginian as he worked to the rise and fall of his chest. It was slow, but Hamilton liked this. Having Thomas all to himself, with no rush or hurry to the inevitable.

"Alexander please."
Thomas muttered in between diving back into his mouth again. Alex felt the hands pulling at his waistcoat urgently- he swatted them away before pulling back slightly.

"No, I don't want that. I just want this Thomas."

Alex bent forward again and swallowed Jeffersons gasp- his frantic hands being replaced with gentle caresses up and down his back. He hummed into the kiss and he felt fingers in his hair, tugging slightly and twisting the strands. They stayed like that for days, months, hell even years- Alexander didn't care. He was so focused on the movement of the man below him he barely registered the chime of the clock in the hallway. Unfortunately Jefferson did.

Hamilton was dumped unceremoniously off Thomas's lap, hitting the floor with a impressive bump.

"Thomas what the hell?!"

Alex watched, too dazed to move as Jefferson grabbed his cane and practically ran out of the door. The loud slam of the wood reminded Hamilton to breath, to feel the cold air against his swollen and empty lips.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

It was too bright today. Too loud. Too much.

Yet he had to go.

Thomas twirled his cane slightly in his hand, feeling it's cold grooves against his trembling palms. He was ready, dressed and shuffling awkwardly by the front door. He wasn't ready.
Thomas snatched a glance at the clock, 11am Sunday morning. Should be quiet- that was reassuring. He lent his hand on the doorknob, the click of the lock suffusing the room in its emanating silence. Faint murmurs of life outside, but quiet nonetheless. Breathe, steady yourself. Thomas flashed a smile on his face, all muscle and no real substance- just glimpse of what it shielded. He could do this. He could handle today.

--

There was no doubt in Jeffersons mind, that all deals with the devil where done on a Sunday. When sinners escaped church to bargain themselves away. The devils sold their souls on Sunday.

It was much busier than he had anticipated, Thomas already began to feel the coil of anxiety twisting in his stomach- weighing heavy and hot on his mind. Ducking into a small alleyway, secluded in shade and disuse, Thomas fell back against the wall- breathing heavy and tapping his fingers quickly against the cane. Slow down, breathe. Thomas closed his eyes, focusing on the muscles tightening in his chest- Breathe.

Slowly Jefferson began to walk through the alleyway, it was echoed by the hushed sounds of bartering and bantering around the corner- but quiet enough to still his thoughts a little. The alley was dirty, vulgar slogans dribbled on bricks and remains of rubbish thrown into ditches. Still, it was quiet, it was enough. He walked on a little faster, checking the backdoor numbers as he went- 26,29,31st... Not just yet.
He rounded a corner, the number of people seemed oppressive in this new area. Bodies pushed against each other as the babble rose to a crescendo. Practically hugging the left wall, Thomas continued to count, inhaling and exhaling as he did so.
32nd, inhale, 34th, exhale, 37th, breathe, 37th...

The 37th house had its curtains drawn, only faint outlines of candle light creeping through the blinds. One window was chipped, a mark on the brick like someone had thrown a rock at it. Thomas knocked on the solid hardwood door, the footsteps behind it taking eternity as he felt the panic rising. Too many people watching.
The door opened, he was ushered inside without another word. Clutching a little tighter onto his cane.

--

Breathe. He needed air. He needed to breathe.
The street was too much, the jostling crowd and the nonstop noise was a flood of sensations. It was too much.
He barely registered his feet, every step and the space around him constricted even more- the air was thicker, like smoke curling in his lungs and suffocating him. He couldn't breathe.
His feet stumbled, eyes wide at the cascade of faces. Too many to count. Too fast.
Wrapping one arm around his chest- pulling the velvet closer to his body, Thomas hurried his way through the people. Without the cane he felt he would of collapsed, unaware of how violently his hands shook until his knuckles were white.
Breathe.
He felt the air being shoved out of him, a silent gasp as he almost fell into someone. Hurried and stuttered apologies. It was too much. He couldn't. He couldn't.

Suddenly, and altogether peculiarly, his hand felt warm.
This new comfort spread up his arm, blooming into a relaxing of his chest. Looking down, he saw a small, ink stained hand clutching at his. Following up the emerald sleeve, to a familiar and confused face. Thomas almost jumped, recoiling at the small man. But the comfort in his eyes, the reassuring smile he gave him hushed away the shudder in his chest. Alexander's fingers were soft, the pen driven hands were quite comfortable slotted against his. It felt natural. Closing his eyes, Thomas let Hamilton walk him, ignoring the burrowing thoughts in his brain as clenched his jaw. He could breathe like this, with Alex keeping the strength flowing into him he could breathe.
Thomas traced small patterns on Alexander's skin. Words he wanted to say, sentences he longed to write. If he could have nothing else, he would say them here- pressed against his skin forever and etched in Jeffersons memory every time he saw those light fingers writing away. He could have this.

He didn't even think about anything else until Hamiltons house door thudded shut behind him. His arms still trembled, his breathing still wretched, but he only thought of the paragraphs written on Alexander's hand.

He lent into the man as he lead him to a seat in his living room, he felt out of place in his home. Almost like an intruder to the domestic life Alexander and Eliza had built up through the years. There were drawings of the couple and their children on the mantelpiece, a worn piano with half-opened pieces in the corner. Thomas was the odd piece in this solitude.
Waves of anxiety washed over him again, Alex had said something, but it was dimmed by the growing panic in his mind.
He tried to stop himself, gripping onto the armrest until it hurt. But the flood still came, rising tides in his chest that threatened to spill over his mouth.

"Jefferson, Thomas- Look at me."

The sound cut through the walls of water, their excess beginning to well in his eyes and fall onto his cheeks. He felt a warmth against his face, another gripping his hand. Thomas nestled a little closer to it, latching onto the comfort like a buoy in a stormy sea. It was strong and unyielding, accompanied with the faint scent of lilac.

"Breathe, okay? Breathe and count with me."

The anchor started to count, his mouth struggled to repeat the syllables. The hand held his a little tighter, he would not be swept into the sea. He carried on counting, his chests rise and fall slowing until Alexander stopped. He looked down at the man, he was knelt by his seat- his big eyes looking up at his with nothing but tenderness. Disheveled hair framing around his face perfectly, pink lips smiling gingerly back at him.

"It's okay, you're okay. Do you know where you are?"

It seemed obvious, a question too obscure for the brilliant mind below him. He had to tell Alexander, now if not ever.

"I'm with you."

Chapter Text

The clocked ticked barely audible in the hall, a silent metronome to the almost empty house.he shudders of the doorframe had stopped, leaving Alexander in a slump on the floor. Everything seemed a too still, the slow effacement of steam from the tea cooling in china saucers, the quivering of his chest, the familiar warmth leaving his lips as more minutes passed since Thomas left. Hamiltons mind was wild, the nonstop train of thought coming to more pointless conclusions with every second. "Why?" being the main topic of discussion, the pain had dulled from hitting the floor, so Alex sat and thought and thought and thought. Was this how Jefferson felt every night they had been together, was he falsely believing Alex was just using him every night- relishing in pleasure until he hurried away in the morning? Did Thomas believe that?

No. No he couldn't. Not with his tender embrace and hushed whimpers. But even if, IF he had any doubts- Alexander formed the resolute plan to talk to him. Face to face, somewhere Thomas couldn't run away from again. This may have started as a 'quid-pro-quo' to the pair, but it had to be something more. Alex wouldn't ever be able to stop his thoughts unless he knew, unless he could know that his feelings weren't a side affect of an affair, but something they both should have seen coming. Something that took root amidst the arguments and insults, something that grew with as much passion as they spoke. There was something.

--

The next day Hamilton walked into his office resolute with his promise. His eyes fixed on what would be his answer, desperately ignoring the ever-growing wind as it whipped through trees and pounded on windows. Even Washington was a little surprised at the determined look on the small man when he handed in reports at his desk- raising an eyebrow at Alexander's gaze off into some insurmountable distance in thought.

"I hope you've been getting enough rest Hamilton, you look a little preoccupied today."

Alexander shook his head and laughed, a little pleased with the Presidents concern for his health.

"I'm fine sir, just focused."

Washington looked at Hamilton throughly, his stare seemingly able to cut past any pretence he had.

"I know better than most people here you disregard of yourself over your work Alex, don't take that too lightly."

That was true, during the war Washington had a couple time coaxed him from a haze at the work table to his bed. Most of the men in the army had heard of Hamiltons dedication, so much so that he would often be found with the wet ink of letters on his cheeks when he had passed out on his work again.

"I'll try sir, thank you."

As he left he heard distant footsteps further down the hallway, a quick pace away from Hamilton. Alexander hurried a little to catch up, clutching onto the papers in his arms haphazardly, turning a corner he ran straight into a figure- standing in a daze as the papers fluttered to the floor.

"For gods sake Hamilton are you always this clumsy?"

Madison was staring at him, folding his arms as Alexander bent over to pick up his work.

"If only you didn't stand in the way," Alex huffed, a little irritated as Madison continued to glare at him. He didn't hate the man per se, but certainly had a unsavoury amount of distaste for him after his siding with Jefferson. Speaking of:

"Do you know where Jefferson is? I need to discuss my plan with him."

"Actually I don't, probably in his office. It will be a miracle if that ever gets passed Hamilton."
As Alex passed him, Madison stared at Alexander with an almost inquiring look. Reaching out to stop Hamilton before he walked away.

"Have you talked to Jefferson recently Hamilton?"

James narrowed his eyes, looking at Alex with concern. Alex knew of how close James and Thomas were, and Madison trying to interrogate him was worrying.

"No I haven't, why do you ask?"

Madison stood silent for a while, only the hush of the weather outside providing any sort of relief. Not one Hamilton wanted to hear anyway, not the relaxing delicate rain- but just a snarling and grasping wind.

"Jefferson seems a little... off recently. Especially around you."

"Perhaps all the French wine has finally got to him after all," Hamilton quipped, smiling as Madison sighed and waved him away again.

Alexander shook the thoughts from his head, too distracting. What mattered was now, his hand resting on the cool wood of the door to Jeffersons office. He swore he could see candlelight under the shadows of the doorframe. The wind moaned against the walls, causing Alexander's nerves to falter. He knocked lightly, the light still flickering, Alex opened the door.

The office was empty, void of Jefferson. He sighed and turned to leave, pausing as he heard something drop from the table. The candle had fallen, spilling wax over the floor and its flames hovering dangerously close to paper. Alex rushed forward, blowing it out and setting it upright again. The room was much darker now, with no blue sky pouring through the window. The wax had only gotten on some work, still, it would annoy Jefferson. Setting his work aside Alexander tried to pick the wax off the dried ink, hoping it wouldn't cause any lasting damage. His eyes gazed lightly over the words of correspondences, documents and letters. 'Dear sir...', 'In regards to the monetary debt of...', '...instant reply...' etc etc. Wait, what?

Hamilton paused over the half opened latter, its seal newly broken and still folded. His scanned it again, now too curious to stop himself.

'Dear sir,
From our correspondence on the fourth we have come to the conclusion of your outstanding payments. In regards to the monetary debt of...'

As Alexander read, his expression changed. From intrigue, to worry and concern. Jefferson was in debt? At least from what the letter revealed this had been going on for a while, at least two months. Thinking back Thomas must of known about this a week before he...

Wait.

He was overthinking this surely, the gasping wind putting him on edge and enticing any fears he had. Jefferson wouldn't. Yet Alexander had paid every time, in increasing amounts- whispered the worry in his head. But Jefferson wouldn't.

"Hamilton, why are you in my office?"

Alexander spun around, carefully placing the letter back down behind him in the hope that Jefferson wouldn't notice. He was staring down at him in the doorway, a puzzled expression as Alexander smiled uncomfortably.

"I- I wanted to talk to you actually."

Hamilton took a couple steps forward as Jefferson shut the door behind him, making the wind sound even more desperate and the room even smaller.

"About your financial plan again? Or something else?"

"Something else," Alexander frowned as Jefferson smiled, sly and teasingly as he took a couple steps closer, "Actually I-"

"Mmhm, and what is so pressing on you that you had to invade my office to talk to me?"

Alex took a stepped back as Thomas leaned closer, his eyes betraying familiar intent with the game they would play behind closed doors.

"Thomas wait, I wanted to ask you something."

In Jeffersons eyes something flashed, sharp and vulnerable, in almost an instant it was gone- but Hamilton couldn't forget the moment of fragility that had come over the man. Jeffersons smile faded, straightening himself as breathing deeply as he prepared for Alexander to speak. His eyes ran up and down the smaller mans body.

"I was thinking, for a while now, about everything. About this."

Without even realising it Hamilton walked backwards into the desk, thumping it with his hip embarrassingly loud. He stepped to the side and rubbed it tenderly, the hot pain tingling as he winced a little. Jefferson laughed, reaching forward to catch Hamilton in his arm. Alex laughed too, gazing back up at the man who was leaning over the desk now, his smile gone.

"Hamilton."

Alex turned to face Thomas, his eyes widening as Jefferson ran his fingers over the hardened wax droplets on the paper. He didn't look at Alexander, but he felt himself freeze as Jefferson spoke again.

"What is this?"

The letter crumpled slightly in his grip, Jeffersons jaw tightening. In their closeness Alex could feel Thomas begin to shake slightly, his breathing quicken.

"I don't know."

Jefferson spun around, gripping Alex with one hand while holding the letter in front of him- eyes wide and dark.

"Hamilton. What is this?"

Alex muttered a little, too intimidated by the man towering over him to speak.

"What makes you think you have the right to look through my personal letters? Do you really think you are SO special that you can come in here unasked and rifle through my desk?!"

Thomas shook him, his face nothing but anger and shame as his eyes burned in Alexander's. Though his words were sharply spoken, Alex could feel the resentment behind them leeching through their syllables.

"What is it Hamilton? Why do you always get in the way?!"

"It's Alex! That's my name Thomas, stop acting like you don't know me."

Jefferson hissed through his teeth, letting his head fall down as he loosened his grip on Alexander, the letter drifted to the ground from his outstretched hand. For a moment Alex thought Thomas would just pull him toward him and kiss him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hushing the deafening roar of wind outside.

"So that's what makes you so special. Alexander Hamilton thinks that just because he sleeps with me he can act all possessive and root through my personal belongings."

"Thomas that's not what I meant, it was an accident-"

"Don't. Don't call me that anymore."

Thomas, Jefferson shook his head- black curls falling in front of his eyes. Alexander stared wide-eyed at him, hoping he would look back at him and smile again. Instead Jefferson just released the pleading Hamilton, shoved him towards the doorway and turned away. His arms were braced against his desk to stop him from shaking, biting down on his lips to silence any treacherous sobs.

"Jefferson."

Alex turned back, almost whimpering, clutching at the doorknob with an unwillingness to let go.

"Just leave Hamilton."

He shut the door behind him, hearing quick footsteps locking it then returning to the desk. The hallway was quiet- the wind finally dying with the slam of the door. Alexander slid his body down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. Somewhere behind him he could hear muffled noises of things being broken, and tears being wiped away. He sat there for several minutes, too shocked to move. The almost silence was broken by the first drop of rain, followed by the cathartic downpour against the roof. Then, and only then, did Hamilton allow himself to stumble back to his office.

Chapter Text

To Alexander, the bleeding light of the sky at every rise and fall of the day was just a reminder to sleep or wake- or to pretend he had slept. The sky was like parchment with an assortment of coloured inks thrown onto its paper- plums, reds and blues all melded together. His dark eyes from squinting at candlelight and scratching at his work only glimpsed these watercolours from windows- only appreciated them in brief moments before staring back at the desk. As days passed so did the paintings in the sky, Hamilton thought he counted four sunrises, although with his thumping head and tired body he couldn't be sure. The pounding of his headaches served as a rhythm to his writing, his pen bending as it scratched on the paper in a fervent need to just work. He could do that. He would work until he felt the familiar arms wrap around his shoulders, the soft hum of Eliza as she coaxed him back home. Just a few more days.

The sky was darkening a little now, as the glare of the candle hurt his eyes a little more in the fading daylight. Alex leant over his work, not even caring anymore of the tangled hair that fell over his face. It seemed pointless to push it back as whenever he turned back to the page it would inevitably fall forward again. It was only when he looked up at the window did he notice the figure standing in the room- his entrance somehow silenced to Hamilton.

Washington coughed as Alex jumped a little, standing up from his chair embarrassed that he hadn't noticed him enter.

"Alex sit down, you look terrible."
Washingtons voice was gently commanding as he frowned at the way Alexander flopped down into the chair again. Alex was too ashamed at his state to speak- knowing that he always tried to not let those who worried see him like this.

"I don't know what's been going on between you and Jefferson, but I don't want this state to go on any longer."

"But sir," Alex tried to stand up again, only to be glared at a little until he closed his mouth and resigned himself to listening.

"Figure it out Alexander, I can't have two secretaries locked away in their offices for the rest of the week. You need to talk to Jeffersons no resolve whatever debacle you have- it's had no benefits for either of you."

"Yes sir, I'll try."

Alex stared down at the page, unable to face Washingtons gazing eyes without feeling he would know how Alexander felt.

"Try and get some sleep tonight Alex."

As Washington shit the door behind him Hamilton rested his head upon the cool wood of his desk. He ran his fingers over the faint scratches and indents in the table from his pen, feeling the grooves in their endless looping sentences almost span the entire length of the desk. It was dark now, having missed the sunset, instead with a sea of pitch outside the window. It was like someone and spilled a lot of ink over the sky and how it rippled over wind and rain- only leaving faint silver outlines of stars and clouds. He blew out the candle, pausing to watch its trail fade into the darkness, and left his office.

The hallway was just as dark, perhaps more so, as there were less windows to let it what semblance of light there was left. The polished wood echoed his soft footsteps in the near silence- passing door after door in the darkness. Turning several corners, Alex saw the familiar golden outline around Jeffersons office- a candle still burning at this hour. He would of laughed at himself- if he could see the way he took such care to be quiet when approaching the door- but when the sounds of pen against paper stopped suddenly with the creak of a floorboard- Alex froze. He could have marched in there, barged up to Jefferson with all the roar and clamour of a hurricane- but at this moment he felt less than a draft of wind that caressed amber leaves from trees, less than the gust causing the waves of summer grass stalks to flow in the air. He felt all the breath leave him as he stood outside the doorway- the inside too quiet for Thomas to be unaware. He wanted to knock, to cough or to call out his name- but instead he just sighed, shaking slightly in the darkness. The hallway was empty, and Alexander turned back to walk to his office in defeat when the path in front of him was filled with golden light and the sound of a door opening.

"Hamilton, what do you want?"

Jefferson looked just as tried as Alexander was, his hair was draped around his face and eyes furrowed in a half-hearted glare. It almost reminded Alex of when he had arrived at his house two months ago.

"Th- Jefferson I need to talk to you, please."

"Why should I listen?"

"Because I listened to you when you came to me for help."

Jeffersons face fell, stepped back to let Hamilton enter and shutting the door behind him. Alex shuffled awkwardly as Jefferson turned around to face him- eyes like steel as he stared.

"Jefferson, I don't want to say any of this. But I know I have to before we end what we started," Alex took a deep breath, barely able to look at the taller man.
"I admire you, your skill and intelligence. How you write so fantastically and can talk like you had years to design your argument against mine. I think I know why you came to me the first night, from what I read, and it really was an accident that I ever saw it."

Hamilton closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing as he continued. The point of his speech seemed so distant and unreachable, like no syllable could ever unlock what he wanted to say.

"I've thought so much about this, us. I wanted to help you, at first, I really was concerned. But then all that happened and now I know I don't keep coming back just to pay you any more me satisfy whatever need I once had to know that Thomas Jefferson needs my help."

That didn't sound right, he shook his head. It was a little closer now, just within reach.

"I know that you'll resent me for this, for everything I've done to you. I've ignored what I've felt for too long, let it fester when I left you each night for fear of driving you away. I want you hands against mine, your lips on his neck knowing that wherever this goes I won't regret it. I never want to regret this."

There it was, the end. Alex knew it, knew his words would have some affect- most likely expulsion from Jeffersons office and icy silence between them for the rest of their careers. He still said it anyway:

"Thomas, I want you."

Alexander blinked away the fuzzy edges of his vision, daring to glance up at Thomas. He expected his eyes to be hot, spitting out insults and pushing him away. He probably deserved it.

What he didn't expect; however, was Thomas to surge forward and hug Hamiltons neck almost tight enough to strangle him. His hands clung at his dark curls and waist- sighing in the family scent of Jeffersons fancy French perfume. The plum coat was surprisingly soft against his cheek, a comfortable thing to lean into as Jefferson clutched at his back.

"Alex I'm sorry."

His voice was a little muffled, but Alexander gently stroked his hair in effort to still his thumping chest.

"It's alright."

"No it's not, listen to me for once."

Thomas let go and held Alex by the arms, staring down at him with as desperate eyes as ever.

"I never meant to use you Alexander. I promise you. I don't even know what went through my head when I first went to you- perhaps I thought that I could trust you with this. I didn't know any of this would happen, I thought you only wanted me for what I gave you, and in return you'd pay me. I didn't want to break the only personal contact I had with you by saying something stupid and letting you tell the whole world how I felt. God, I've felt like this for so long."

It seemed like Jefferson was talking to himself now, convincing the doubt in his mind as he held fast on Hamilton. Had he heard that right? Thomas felt the same way?

"You acted like nothing had happened when I came back the day it rained, I couldn't stop staring at you Alex. You were so beautiful. I shouldn't have let anything happen, but then you took me back home when I froze up in the street- and you treated me with such tenderness that I didn't know what to do."
His heart felt like a drum in his chest, blood rushing to his head in waves. Thomas looked down at him- searching for any hesitation or rejection in his expression. Alex smiled back up at him.

"Then just do this."

Alexander grabbed onto Jeffersons collar, pulling the man down to his level as he pressed their mouths together. Teeth scraped uncomfortably until they worked into a rhythm, only pulling apart to breathe. Alex tried to kiss away the fear in Jeffersons mind, creating a trail from his forehead and cheeks to his collarbone, the soft moans Thomas made spurred him on in his endeavour.

"My place?"

Thomas nodded, snatching his cane. Almost as a afterthought he spoke:

"It's all paid now, I can have my place here back soon."

"I'll look forward to seeing its bedroom then," Alex laughed as the two hurried down the corridor, trying to hide their giggles with kisses.

They finished just when the sun rose on the Saturday morning, its pastel hues blending with the copper and silver clouds. Thomas gazed at Alex with their foreheads pressed together, breathing deeply and wrapping the covers closer around him. His fine hair was fanned across the pillow, long eyelashes struggling to stay open as Thomas gently kissed his lips.

"Thomas?"

"Yes Alex?"

"I don't ever want to say no to this."