Chapter Text
John can't sleep. Not with the constant drum of pain in his side.
The night is still early, but he feels like he's been lying awake forever- drifting in and out of fitful sleep. Laurens turns a little, trying to ease the pressure off his bruised ribs- an unfortunate slip from his horse onto a wheel of a canon, and shuffles closer to the tempting warmth that shares his bed.
"...John?" Hamilton mumurs, twisting his neck to look back at Laurens with sleepy eyes.
Laurens only replies by resting his head into the back of his neck, pressing his chest against the smaller mans back and revelling in the comforting pace of his breathing.
"Are you okay? Is it hurting?" Alexander asks, concerned. Laurens only grips tighter and moans at another stab of pain.
"Shh it's alright, I'm here. Try to think of something nice, to not focus on the pain."
Alex grips Johns hands in his own, squeezing gently every so often to distract him. It's good, makes Laurens ignore hurting for just a moment and to think of the warmth between the two of them. It feels not dissimilar to the heat from candles, how it soaks into his skin and makes him feel like he's glowing. Laurens hums, thinking of the recent Schuyler ball- how the heat of hundreds of candles suffused into every room. The people were like candles, each burning in their own way and leaving drops of wax behind every footprint or spoken work. Oh and his Alexander, the one that burned brightest. Laurens could distinguish his flame from the others.
He liked that ball, not for the purpose of socialising or dancing, but mainly for the almost dreamlike distance it had to the war-ache of camp. Both men and women alike twirled and stepped like there was no armies camping just a rivers length from them. John liked watching from the sidelines, smiling into a drink as the others would chase almost hopelessly at the many blushing ladies. John liked watching the women, not for their looks or any attraction he had towards them (because by god he had none) but for what they wore. There were so many colours in those gowns, deepest scarlets and fairy-like greens to the shimmering silver silk that often tore his eyes away from whatever rowdy conversation Hamilton was in. Laurens was fascinated by how the dresses flicked and twirled in their movements, entranced by the faintest brush of silk as laughing groups of ladies passed the two men in corridors. He wondered what it would feel like if he... no. That would be ridiculous, besides how could a soldier find such a thing without suspicion? That didn't stop John from tracing his fingers around his neck and wondering how deep the fabric would cut.
"Alex?" Laurens mumbled into Alexander's neck.
"Yes Laurens?" His voiced was hushed in the almost pitch of the tent, the intimacy of the night required the quietest voices.
"Y'know that ball... did you like what the ladies were wearing?" John practically buried his face in Alex's hair, half to hide his blush of embarrassment and half to feel the pleasantly soft strands brush against his cheeks.
"Huh?" Alex paused for a second, "...why?"
"Just wanted to know." Laurens shuffled again to settle his nerves, but the sting of pain in his side only made him whimper and resign himself to Alex's neck.
"I suppose I did. They looked very pretty Laurens, but none were more captivating than you."
John wiggled his hand free from his grip and prodded Alex sharply in the hip, smiling unreservedly as Alex chuckled at the embarrassed Laurens.
"Now hush, you won't get any better fretting over the looks of other people." Alex battered away his hand and exhaled deeply, lifting Johns hand to his lips before entwining them again with his.
Laurens hummed softly as his eyes slipped closed, they had become hard to keep open with the warmth and gentleness from Alexander. He felt slightly better, despite the pain in his ribs, at least he had the answer he needed.