Chapter Text
t.j.
I woke up just as the landing announcement was being made, yawning and looking out the window into the soft Virginian sunlight- I almost couldn’t believe that I was finally home after being more than 3,000 miles away for five long years. ' It feels good to be back ,' I thought with a smirk, as I grabbed my suitcase and carry on and moved to exit the plane.
I called Sally, my secretary, and had her take my car to the airport to pick me up, marvelling at the rolling fields as we drove to my house. I pondered the idea of really being free, as Madison had described throughout his most recent letters, the thought being almost surreal to me. I realised then how much I had really missed by being in France.
“Would you like me to take your bags to your room, sir?” asked Sally, earning a distracted nod from me and I stumbled out of the car and stretched. I followed her into the house and up to my room, eyes instantly falling on something that was out of place on my desk. “Oh, I meant to tell you in the car that you had gotten a letter earlier this morning from President Washington.”
“Really? Open it for me, will you darling?”
She scrambled to pick up the letter and I sighed quietly- the poor girl seemed to always be so nervous. Nonetheless, she retrieved the letter from its envelope and handed it to me. I skimmed it over, expression varying from confused to surprised to excited and smug to slightly exhausted, and back to surprised again; Washington had told me that I was to be Secretary of State, and that the Senate had already approved me for the job, but that I would have to go all the way to New York after having just gotten home. I turned to Sally, smiling.
“It seems that I’ll have to leave again,” I said with mock-irritation, raising my eyebrows. “Monsieur Washington has asked me to travel to New York to be Secretary of State.”
“Shall I be joining you, sir? It happens that I have family in New York, I could live with them if you’d like.”
“If you wish, darling,” I smiled. “Don’t want to force you to leave home or anything, though it would be helpful to have you by my side. Plus, I think I would miss your biting wit, Vixen.”
Vixen was a nickname that I had given her in the early stages of our friendship, when she had just taken the job as my secretary. She used to hate it, as well as me, but as we got closer, she grew used to it.
“As I would your empty insults, sir,” she said with a smirk. I grinned and shook my head fondly.
“Then we’re off, I guess. I figure I won’t have to pack much, since I hadn’t even gotten the chance to unpack.”
.
When I arrived at the White House (having dropped Sally off to her sister’s apartment), I merely stood outside and marvelled for a good two minutes before showing my ID and going in. Before I could get anywhere, though, my old friend James Madison came running towards me, red-faced.
“Madison, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” I ask concernedly as he grabs my arm.
“It’s- it’s Hamilton. He's the enemy, it's him. The man is insane! His new financial plan is nothing more than complete government control. I’ve been fighting for the South all on my own. You need to get us out of this mess. Where the hell have you been?”
“Uh.. France,” I replied, extremely confused. I thought he had known that..? And who is Hamilton?
“We need to convince Washington that he’s wrong.”
'Well ,' I thought. ' I guess I have my first Cabinet meeting today, then. Better think of something to say... about something I don't even know about.'
Madison pulled me towards what I assumed was President Washington’s office, attempting to compose himself before opening the door. When we walked in, there were two pairs of eyes on me.
“Ah, Mr. Jefferson. Welcome home,” Washington said with a warm smile, standing up to shake my hand. I returned the smile and adjusted my posture. Then I turned to the man he was previously conversing with, assuming that this was the Hamilton that Madison had told me about. When I looked at him, something stirred in me.
“Mr. Jefferson? ..A-Alexander Hamilton.” The man cleared his throat, extending his hand as Washington did- but this time, when we shook hands, I had an odd feeling in my stomach. I noticed Hamilton pull away suddenly and clear his throat again, and I turned away. This was the man I was supposed to hate…? “Um, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
'What are you doing?' asked my subconscious contemptuously, scowling at me. ' You’re not gay. Why are you feeling this way about a guy?'
'No, no, I’m just… nervous,' I told myself, pulling at my shirt from the bottom.
'Yeah, right. When do you ever get nervous?'
My heart sped up as I looked back over at him from the corner of my eye. I had never even pondered the thought of being anything other than straight- just thinking of it scared me to no end. I repressed it.
I regained my composure and sneered at him, not returning the sentiment. Instead, I sniggered and eyed the messy pile of papers on the table where he was sitting, and then looked back up at him.
“So you’re the guy with the… ingenious financial plan, I hear,” I remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked confused and offended, but quickly got a hold of himself and looked me in the eye.
“Let’s see your plan, then, Mr. Jefferson. I’m not so sure you have anything better, seeing as I’ve heard nothing about you thus far.”
“So quick-witted.”
“Alas, I admit it.”
“I bet the rest of the Cabinet loves you.”
“I should hope so, sir,” Hamilton said with a complacent smile.
Washington coughed awkwardly, causing Hamilton to jump and turn back to him. “Let’s discuss the plan now, shall we?”
“Yes, sir,” Hamilton and I said in unison.
The rest of the meeting was basically spent arguing, with Washington acting as a medium or middle ground between the two of us. Madison kind of just stood in the shadows, putting in his two cents every so often- but my mind frequently wandered to places other than the office. Why did Hamilton make me feel this way? Why, of all people, did he make me nervous? I never got nervous in front of anyone. I was always calm, composed, I never let anything or anyone get to me- so why him?
I thanked God that I was at least good at hiding my emotions, because I had a feeling that I had now ruined my chances of getting friendly with this man.
I stopped myself. Even if I hadn’t ruined the chances, I wouldn’t even try to get friendly with him! ‘I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not gay.’ I tried telling myself again as I admired how his eyes twinkled with devotion and excitement when he was talking about something he was passionate about. ' Not gay. Especially not for Alexander Hamilton.'