A/N: Hello everyone! This story contains implied PTSD, brief mentions of blood, and detailed descriptions of really disgusting food, if that's going to bother anyone. Also, I'm assuming the incident to which Hamilton is referring when he tells his story took place right after the hurricane, when everything was in chaos. Hope you enjoy!
It's a common enough sight in the dragging days of winter in the Revolution camp-the four men sitting down to huddle around a fire, their thin, ragged clothes doing little to keep out the creeping cold, despite the way they've layered clothes more obviously torn and bloodied over their own. Hamilton and Laurens share two inadequate blankets, as is their custom, and Lafayette and Mulligan lean into each other, sharing warmth through the thin fabric of their own respective coverings. Somewhere in the shuffle of bodies and blankets, each man holds a lightly steaming bowl of soup-a thin broth of water, rock lichen and blood and meat from a recently slaughtered horse. It gives off a sour, coppery odor, with undertones of dirt and, just maybe, actual food. (Laurens will never admit that, in his current state, the smell actually makes him salivate. He's just glad it's too dark for anyone to notice. Or for him to see the various clots and chunks floating in it.)
Hamilton doesn't hesitate to begin eating. The others are briefly more skeptical, but the twin aches in their bones and their bellies convince them soon enough that warm food can only be a good idea. They're still a bit hesitant, however. No one (besides Hamilton, who really doesn't count) wants to take the first bite.
"Hey," interjects Hamilton, seemingly out of the blue, "You guys know I haven't always had a lot on my plate-have I told you about the most disgusting thing I ever ate?"
"I do not believe so," replies Lafayette. "By all means, proceed."
"There's a lot I could go with..."
"So what's in the lead?" asks Laurens.
"Maybe the drowned rat?"
"Then let's hear about that!" says Mulligan.
Somehow, Hamilton manages to spin a tale of himself as a starving teenager into something amusing, and they all smile along, but Laurens can feel the way Hamilton is slightly tense beside him, and Lafayette and Mulligan can barely discern, in the flickering firelight, the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, and they can all hear the faint strain in his tone. They understand, however, that joking about the darker parts of the past is sometimes the only way to share them, so they listen, and allow the fiction that this is humorous.
When the narrative finally winds down, they realize that their bowls are empty.
For a moment, there is quiet.
"Hercules, mon ami," says Lafayette, "is there anything now you haven't done to a horse?"
Hercules and Laurens laugh. After a moment, Hamilton joins in.
(It's still cold. But maybe, just for a moment, a little less so.)
A/N: Hello again! I made the dialog rhyme! Are you proud of me? Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!