Work Text:
Hello, Mr. Jefferson! How may I help you?
I see. Feeling a little lost? I'm sensing something - or someone - was taken from you, too soon.
Ah, well. It may have been a long time ago, but the wound is still fresh. I can see that it hinders you, sometimes.
Sorry, sorry! I mean, it kind of is my business, but anyway, sorry. Back to the session. What is it you're looking for again?
Oh, yes, love. Ha.
No, no, nothing funny. Are you ready to begin?
You've already met him. You don't like him, as far as I can tell. You've never agreed with him once.
But already, there is a hint of something forming. When you look at him, you see more than just unfavorable opinions. You've started noticing his little quirks, little mannerisms. Subconsciously, you've begun to discover what makes him tick.
You probably haven't even noticed yet. Your relationship with him, however inevitable, seems improbable and ridiculous right now, but it'll grow on you.
You'll start staring at him. He won't notice, but you'll watch him. You'll pay more attention to him than you pay to yourself or your work.
And then, he'll start talking to you. In place of the typical arguing, he'll agree and say you've got a good point. You'll be skeptical at first, but this is what you've been hoping for, even if you didn't know it.
You'll resist for a while. When he tries to talk to you politely, you'll revert back to sarcasm and spite. But one day, you won't. You'll talk back, make a joke that isn't at his expense, and when you see his face, you'll wish you had stopped fighting sooner.
The way he just barely smiles - it'll nearly knock you off your feet. At this very second, the exact moment that he looks up at you with those eyes, you'll know: you're done for.
Sure, roll your eyes. Just you wait.
You'll be annoyed, at first, but this time, you won't be annoyed with him. You'll be annoyed with yourself because you've contracted feelings for someone you supposedly hate.
But you can only hold on to that annoyance for so long, because he's so cute, and how can you stay annoyed with that face?
You'll love him so much. You'll love him more than you thought it possible to love someone, and the rational part of your brain will tell you that his little glances at you, those little smiles, are all indicators that he feels the same way.
But your insecurities keep you holding back.
Don't get frustrated. I promise things will turn out okay.
And sure, you have plenty of almosts. For example, you'll drive him home one night when he's too tired to even stand up straight. He'll get in your car and you'll drive him home in silence - until his hand finds its way to the console between you, where your hand is resting. He'll interlock two of his fingers with two of yours, just subtly enough to make you wonder if he meant to do it.
When he gets out of the car, you'll walk him to his apartment and just outside his door, he'll almost kiss you. He'll look up at you with those eyes, and you'll feel yourself drawing him in without thinking about it.
But he'll let out the biggest, most undignified yawn, and you won't be able to hold back your laugh. You'll make sure he gets inside and then go home, feeling mostly okay about not kissing him then.
Oh, and there'll be one time, when you're staying late at work, and you'll see him in the break room, fussing at the coffee machine. You'll giggle and go see what he's up to, only to find that he hasn't eaten or slept in two days.
You'll guide him to your office while you pack away your things, then take him to his to do the same. He'll barely be functioning, and you would be lying if you didn't say it was adorable. You'll take him to your apartment this time, give him a microwaved roast-beef sandwich and tuck him in on your couch.
He'll grab your hand before you leave, say thank you. You'll almost be able to say, "You're welcome," before he falls asleep. As you leave, you'll whisper that you love him, and you'll mean it.
You seem distressed. Are you alright?
You're sure?
Well, okay. Where was I? Oh, yes - you'll truly understand that you love him that night.
Finally, you'll ask him to dinner. He'll say yes, and you'll be the most nervous you've ever been.
It will go smoothly, perfectly, with no stress that usually accompanies a first date.
The second date will be the same. It will feel as if something is off, just a little wrong, but then he'll smile at you, and it will be enough to assuage any fear or doubt.
You'll walk him to his car, and he'll look so beautiful, under the street lights. You'll want to kiss him, and you almost do, but you walk away instead. Just in case.
Yes, Mr. Jefferson, there is a point to this. I'm getting there.
On the fourth date, things will go a little wrong. When it's over, he'll ask you if the dinners had been dates.
In the few seconds it takes for you to answer, you'll feel the world shatter around you. You'll assume that you've ruined everything, that whatever friendship you had with him is gone.
But when you tell him yes, of course they were dates, he'll get flustered, and it will be adorable, despite how devastated you'll feel. He'll get defensive, and you'll be ready to apologize, but he'll say something that'll make you stop.
He'll say, "Well, it was hard to tell, seeing as you never kissed me!"
Yes, he really does say that. It's probably cliche, but it's what happens.
Anyway, he'll say that, and then you'll kiss him, and it will be like - like - how do I say this without it sounding so cliche? Fireworks, maybe? The world falling apart and together at the same time?
Either way, it'll be great, one of the best kisses of your life.
And that's that.
Yes, that's it. Happily ever after.
It can be that simple, actually.
His name? Well, now, Mr. Jefferson. I get the feeling that you already know, you just wish you didn't.
Fine. Alexander Hamilton.
I'm positive.
Yes, inevitable.
Are you alright? You seem a little ill.
If you insist. That's all I have for you today, Mr. Jefferson. Thank you for coming.
I hope to see you again! Have a nice day!
Wow. Talk about clueless. They're even worse than Lafayette, Mulligan, and Laurens.
Oh! Speak of the devil.
Mr. Mulligan, what can I do for you this time?
