Well, this wasn't supposed to happen. I was just writing this as a one shot but then it kept expanding. So here you go, enjoy!
"Go home, Hamilton." The boss's voice was stern.
"But, sir!" I started, sliding across my desk to cross the room to him as he draped a scarf around his neck and sat his hat on his bald head.
"Hamilton, go home. Even if there were a secret bar, we don't have jurisdiction there. That's precinct number four's problem."
"But, sir, I know it. I know it past a hunch. I know it, I really do."
"Good night." He shut the door behind himself and I leaned back against my desk and folded my arms over my guns.
The precinct was dark and empty now, I was the last one there. The lamp on my desk was the only source of light, illuminating my papers chaotically strewn across the surface.
"Bullshit," I mumbled and was struck with an idea.
I could do my own recon work. Go down to the spot myself on unofficial police business. Before I left, I retucked the tail of my shirt and grabbed my jacket off the rack along with my hat. Carefully, I made my guns more inconspicuous under my clothing until they were nearly invisible and left the precinct. It was a quick walk to the brick building. Standing still enough, I could hear jazz coming from under the street. Trying to survey the situation I struck a match and lit a cigarette, eyes wandering over the scene. It was all I could do not to tap my foot to the music, I realized that it might help me build an undercover character.
This mission wouldn't be a takedown, just a scout, I didn't have the manpower to blow up the spot, so I would settle myself in and try to make like I was enjoying myself, learn what I could. Flicking my cigarette butt to the ground I steeled myself and went into the building, immediately stopped by a large man.
"Can I help you, pal?"
"I'm just, uh, headed downstairs if you don't mind."
"Need a password."
I sprung into action, my mental faculties sharp enough for the challenge, "and that seems like a poor business model. You want cash, I've got plenty, you want business, I've got more of it. You want single guys willing to shell out on a pretty bird? Well, I'm building an aviary."
He folded his arms, "password."
I wasn't used to my charm not working and figured this guy too dense to be taken by me, "look, I just need to blow off steam, had a rough day down at the office, heard your music, it's awful loud, y'know, thought you could use some patronage, helps us both out."
A woman in a short black dress with pin curls was mounting the stairs, "oh, let him in, Barney." she slipped past me and I couldn't help but notice how the fringe of her dress framed her figure.
The man, Barney, stepped aside but curled his lip at me in disgust. I tipped my hat to him and made my way down the stairs. The ceiling was low, but it was filled with people, pretty ladies with tall glasses in their hands, men watching the band play, a five piece jazz band, they played a lively, swinging tune. I took a seat at the bar and surveyed my surroundings, coloured people mingled with white folk, all dancing together, half the band was dark folk. There was a tap on the bar in front of me.
"What can I getcha?" the bartender drummed his fingers on the bar and I swallowed hard realizing just how little I knew about alcohol, I needed to blend in, knowing I'd be out of luck if I was found out.
I blinked and stared at him. He wore curly hair to his shoulders tied back at the base of his skull, one curl had escaped its confines and was hanging over his forehead, dancing over his eyes - one part emerald, one part clay, strands of gold woven to bind the hues. I swallowed hard.
He laughed at me, dimples pocking his cheeks as he did so. The bartender turned back around, shaking his head and pulled a bottle off the shelf, he poured generously into a short glass and handed it to me.
"Finest whiskey I've got."
I took a drink as though it was water and it burned my throat and stung my eyes until they were damp, I felt my face turn and twist. He laughed at me again while I smacked my lips, trying desperately to regain my composure.
"Haven't seen you before." He started to wipe a clean glass with a towel and I took him in. He wore a button down, white, clean, but creased from movement, over it a dark vest trimmed his figure, contrasting the wide leg trousers he wore. He was a looker.
"Don't suppose you have." I agreed.
"What's an upstanding citizen like yourself doing in a place like mine?"
"Needed a drink." I tried to play it off and took a tiny sip of the amber liquid before me.
"You did, huh? Ever had one before?"
The truth fell out before I could stop myself, "had a beer once."
He turned to put the glass he was still wiping away and I watched his shoulders shake with laughter, "had a beer once."
I took another drink and clenched my fist under the bar at the sting, trying not to show the discomfort on my face.
Feeling my cheeks flush in equal parts embarrassment and alcohol I wanted to change the subject, "you don't see things get out of hand mixing colored folk and whites?"
"All are welcome in my bar. Take a few liberties with one law, what's the risk of taking a few more?" He winked.
I could have been putty with that wink, instead, I steeled myself with another sip from the drink.
"I guess so." I nodded, wondering just how many laws were being ignored.
"What's the real reason you came here tonight, baby? You lonely? You sad? What is it?" He leaned against the heel of his hand on the bar, stretching halfway across it toward me.
"Baby?" I ignored his question.
"You heard me." His eyes were hooded and from this close I could make out a million tiny freckles dappling his complexion.
"I did hear you." I agreed dumbly, losing myself to the warmth of my drink and to the captivating reflection of his eyes.
"I'm John Laurens, what's your name, baby?"
"Alexander… Hamilton." I didn't mean to give my real name.
He pulled my glass across the bar and downed the rest in one gulp, exhaling heavily against the burn, and slapped the glass back on the bar.
"Well, Alexander, why don't you come back and see me tomorrow? The code word is Rochambeau," he pulled me toward him by my tie, "and leave the guns."
"O-okay." I smoothed myself out, feeling dizzy.
I hurried back up the stairs and out into the chilly night. How had he pegged me so easily for a cop? My guns were tucked so securely, there was no easy way to see them. I was in deep, but I wanted to see him again. I needed to. In the chilly night air I walked back to the closet that I called home and hung up my weapons and tossed my dirty clothes into a sack in the corner before falling into bed. My head hurt from the liquor.
How could I like him so much? He was a criminal. What he was doing was so wrong. So illegal. But he was so beautiful. My stomach lurched at the thought of him tugging me in by my tie. I was sure that in that moment he was going to kiss me and I was disappointed when he didn't. I wanted to kiss him, to know what it would feel like to melt into him, brush back that pretty, long curl from his face, to trace his features, use his dimples as a map to find his mouth in the darkness. I smiled in the darkness. Rochambeau. John Laurens. It was a beautiful name. The image of the pretty girl walking up the stairs paled in comparison to anything that John did. Him wiping a glass was more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel, him leaning over to put it away more striking than the pyramids. I sighed to myself.
The next day I sat in the office a new stack of paperwork on my desk to be sorted through. My fingers worked furiously at the keys of my typewriter, trying to make it through the stack. The boss was sitting in his office. I wished that he would clear me for my recon mission, that I could be there on official police business. The jurisdiction excuse was a copout, the underground bar was precisely on boundary lines. I was going back tonight. It was easy to get through the work on my desk before the end of the day, but I forced myself to work slower to have an excuse to leave last again and slip off to the bar, to see John. My lips pulled back over my teeth when I thought about him. I couldn't help myself, he was all I could think of.
"Goodnight, Hamilton. Don't work yourself too hard." Washington turned to leave the building.
"Night, sir! See you Monday."
I hurried to finish my work and hustled to the bar. There was a new doorman upstairs.
"Password." He insisted.
Cockiness slipped into my voice, "Rochambeau."
He grumbled and let me pass. I took the same seat that I had the previous night, but there was no one behind the bar, only a commotion near the stage of people cheering and the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard was singing along with the band. I turned on my stool to look at the stage and saw John Laurens singing, rocking in time to the music on the balls of his feet. He wore the same styled trousers, but had exchanged his vest for suspenders. My jaw dropped as my brain made the connection of John and the voice I was hearing. The instruments came to their final flourish and John held a long note, finally cutting it off, he swept his hands over his hair, pushing that single curl back until it fell over his eyes again. The rest of the patrons went wild in their applause.
"Alright, alright," he beamed, waving them off and grinning at the floor, "that's enough, back to work."
He hopped off the stage with an extra bounce in his step and made it back behind the bar.
"Hiya, Alex." He smirked at me.
"Hello, John." I nervously tried to keep my emotions in check and pull the corners of my lips back down.
"What can I get you?"
"A… the… what I had last night was fine."
He laughed at me again and pulled down a different bottle and poured some of the contents into a glass for me.
"This here is the nicest 'shine you can get from Appalachia, this one's special, sweetened with molasses, give you less of that burn that twists up your face all cute. See how nice I am? Willing to sacrifice seeing your face all cute?"
I smirked at him, "thanks. I sure liked your singing. Where'd you learn to sing like that?"
"Church mostly. Try some." He pointed to the glass.
I smelled it curiously and wished that I hadn't but took a cautious sip. This was sweeter, milder. I could tolerate this.
"It's better." I nodded.
"Thought so. Now, Alex…" he leaned far over the bar toward me and I could see the curve of his hips, I couldn't help but stare, he reached into my coat, letting his hands slide over my chest slowly, and fingered the barrel of my weapon, "what did I say about bringing guns in my bar?"
I stammered like a doe, "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
"You're not the only cop I serve, but they all know the rules and they follow 'em, too. Just because I think you're handsome doesn't mean that I'm just fixin' to let this slide."
My breath caught and I readied myself for whatever would come next, "I'm sorry about the guns. I just get so used to having them on me that they're like my second skin."
"You staking me out? Reporting back in to your superiors about the goings on here?"
I sat in silence like a child and tipped my head down.
He spoke again, "and how about this, Alexander… do you tell them about the way that you look at me? Do you tell them about the way that your pupils blow out every time I bend myself over this bar to get a little closer to you? Do you report the way that you hold your breath every time that I touch you?"
"I haven't told anyone anything."
John laughed and leaned in closer, "I believe you… that's the funny part. I believe you, so what's your angle here Hamilton?"
I didn't want to tell him, but I couldn't convince myself to lie to him either, "I had my suspicions about this place so I figured I ought to check it out. I… that's why I was here yesterday."
"And you came back today why?"
I gulped, "because I wanted to see you."
"See, I've got as much on you as you've got on me. Way I see it, either of us squeals, the other's out a job. Can't imagine New York's finest being too thrilled about their pansy cop, can't imagine they'd be too thrilled about my business either. Now we can shake on this like gentleman, and then you give me the pleasure of kissing you like your lips are the air I need to breathe, or I'll have to have Joey up there make you… go away… s'pose the kiss is optional, but, boy I sure would like to."
I managed to steel myself, somehow even more intrigued by the darkness in his voice, he knew how to handle himself, he was my equal, something I scarcely found in any partner. Running through situations I thrust my hand out and he shook it, firm, good strong shake and then for the second time in as many nights pulled me in by my tie, getting me close to him and kissed me. His mouth was warm and sweet but I stiffened against him, I was no movie star, if someone saw this I couldn't even imagine what would happen. He pulled away, sensing my discomfort. He wore the brightest grin I'd ever seen that made butterflies flutter in my belly.
"Sorry, I just can't be doing that in public." I stated softly.
"Interested in doing it not in public?"
"Very." I agreed.
"I can close this house down in the next hour. Sit a spell and sip your way through the 'shine."
"Alright,"
"Boys, play us home!" John shouted over the music.
"You've got an accent. You a southerner?" I asked, suddenly wanting to know everything about this brilliant man.
"I am."
"Why did you come here?"
"Same reason everyone comes to New York… escaping religious persecution."
"What religion?" I made a face, I couldn't imagine what he meant.
"No, baby, the religious were persecuting me. Being a fairy isn't exactly the most welcome thing down where I come from."
"I get by well enough going both ways, but I keep this on the hush from the precinct."
"At least you get the perk of playing it off."
"You don't like girls?"
"Not even a touch, good for business, though, they try to charm me into free giggle water and it just don't work."
I thought for a moment and felt myself blush, "I never paid you for my drink last night."
"I also drank two-thirds of it. Don't worry about it, on the house."
"How many of these girls do you think would be jealous knowing I'm getting drinks for free?"
"At least half of 'em." He looked around his bar with pride.
Why was this illegal in the first place, these people were just having a nice time. Was that really so wrong? He was a business owner, he was successful. I started to question everything that I believed in.
"I am sorry about staking you out." I stared into my glass.
He laughed and put his hand over mine on the bar, "you act like it's the first time, I live a life of risk down here, but it's a good life, I've worked hard for it. Just… Will you tell me one thing, honest?"
"What's that?" I looked into his captivating eyes and wondered what I was doing.
"Is your name really Alexander?"
I smirked at him, "it is."
John sighed in relief, "oh, thank God. That is the most beautiful name in the world. I'd hate to think it was a lie. You're a bad cop." He was grinning again.
"I know… I didn't mean to give you my real name, but when you asked you cut through all my intentions and I couldn't help myself."
"Take another drink." He instructed me, moving his warm hand to my wrist to push it toward my glass.
I obeyed his request and stared at him while I tipped the glass back against my lips. The sting still railed me, but I was getting used to it. It made me feel silly and diizzy, I wanted to giggle at John, tell him just how pretty I thought he was.
His arm was around my neck, pulling me in to him, he kissed me, pressing my mouth open skillfully with tongue. I ran my own across his lips, so soft, so supple. My hand found his hair and I tangled my fingers into the curls at the base of his ponytail, pulling him in to me. We stayed like that for what my mind thought was hours until he finally separated us and wiped his mouth.
"I was right to give you that drink. It tastes as delicious on you as I thought it would."
"You planned this?" I asked in disbelief.
"Oh, honey, I've been planning this since last night."
I stared at him in shock and took another tiny sip of my drink, smiling at the taste, at his plot.
"Do you want some of this?" I offered my glass.
"Ha, I'm alright. That's far too weak." He found a new bottle and poured some into a glass for himself, taking a drink.
"What's that?" I looked at the glass, the liquor looked different, like it was sentient.
"Strongest panther piss they give me." He laughed and handed me the glass.
I smelled the contents carefully, the smell alone burned my eyes, but I wanted to impress him and took an easy drink. It hurt my mouth, it burned my tongue, made my nose run, my eyes tear. I reached for the closest thing to me to remove the taste and downed the rest of my drink without thinking, only intensifying the burning. He was giggling at me behind the bar and took a drink of the vile substance with only a wrinkle of his nose.
"That's horrible."
"But it works." He winked again leaving me powerless.
I listened to the sounds of the band packing up and people started to file over to him to settle up tabs, he greeted almost all of them by name and gave some of them the saturday password. I sat quietly and watched him at work. My mind grew heavy along with my body, everything tilted just off center.
"Are you ready to go?" He was counting cash on the bar.
"Yeah, I'm ready."
"$238 isn't too shabby for a Friday."
"You made $238? Tonight? In one night?"
He beamed and put some into an envelope that he slid into a safe under the bar, "I sure did."
"That's a month's salary for me. Jesus."
"Business is good, now come on, let's go." He pocketed most of the rest of the cash and kept out thirty dollars, handing it to the doorman on the way out.
I followed him on shaky legs around to the alley off the side of the building where a shiny automobile sat waiting. He hopped in and felt in the visor for a key.
"Of course you have an automobile." I chuckled to myself.
"You know how to drive?"
"Of course I do. I'm a policeman." I scoffed at his silliness in asking.
He drove us through the city and I watched the scenery change, getting a little older, a little less nice.
"I know what you're thinking." He assumed.
"What?"
"You see where I live."
"In Harlem."
"I surely do."
"I'm not… thinking anything." I shook my head.
"Okay, you're not then. But I know it and I don't care."
"Okay." I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy.
"Alexander," John was smoothing my hair back, his lips on my ear, "we're home, baby, you fell asleep."
I blinked a few times to clear the sand in my eyes and realized that I had dozed. We were in front of a brownstone block, the automobile now parked on the street. John set the keys back in the visor and got out, letting his suspenders fall to hang as he did.
"God, that feels better."
I got out of the automobile and followed him up the stairs to his apartment. Once inside we climbed another flight and he unlocked his unit. There was a lamp on in the corner, illuminating a man on the sofa with cello between his legs. In the low light I could make out his complexion, he was at very least a mulatto, frizzy hair tied back on the top of his head.
"Good night tonight?" John asked him.
"We split eighty between us." He had an accent, French, maybe even creole.
"Excellent!" John punched the man lightly on the shoulder and then bent in to kiss him on the lips.
I looked away, feeling like I was violating their space, feeling like I'd been played a fool.
"Who's this?" He set the bow down and looked me dead on.
"Right, this is Alexander, remember I was telling you about the pretty one that was coming in to my spot?"
"I am Lafayette. Pleasure."
I remembered my manners and nodded, "nice to meet you."
"He is pretty. I'll be out here." Lafayette grinned up at John.
"I love you." He kissed him again and turned his attention back to me.
I followed him dumbly through the apartment to his bedroom where he took off his shoes and put them in the closet.
"I was gonna explain things, but you knocked out on me." He sat on the bed and started to unbutton his shirt.
"Okay, this might be a good time to explain, then." I bit down on my lip, mind too cloudy to make heads or tails of the situation, but I took off my jacket and my guns, setting them in a chair in the corner of the room.
He pulled his shirt off and took my hands silently asking me to sit beside him. I did. He brushed my short hair back behind my ear.
"Lafayette out there is my heart and soul, my partner… but we have an understanding… we both have an... appetite, and we allow each other to indulge that appetite. We love each other with all that we are, but that doesn't stop us from enjoying the company of others, I didn't expect him to be home so early, that's part of why I stopped the band when I did. I really was going to explain all of this to you. And, look, if this makes you uncomfortable, I'll drive you home right now and still make good on my end of the deal."
My head spun as I took in all this information, "I think I… understand."
"Okay, okay, good. But you don't have to… none of it. I really can just take you home."
"No, no, please God, no, I have to kiss you again. I have to. Please. Just, he really doesn't mind?"
"Not one bit." John cupped my cheek.
"Alright… you're sure?"
"Promise you. I told him about you and everything. I really was trying to tell you."
"Sorry." I felt awkward but just wanted to sink into him.
"Come here." He pulled me up the large bed and lie down with me, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder, he felt like home and I breathed in the bouquet of his neck.
I nuzzled against him.
"I didn't mean to get you that drunk. You really can't hold your liquor. You feeling okay? Sick like, I mean?"
"No, I'm okay, the world's just spinning a little bit," I confirmed but then blurted out, "you feel good."
John chuckled softly and rubbed my back, "you want to just go to sleep that's okay, I'll hold you."
"Hold me?" I asked speculatively.
"Of course. Hold you all night if you want."
I nuzzled into him again and sighed, this felt good, it was almost enough to distract me from the soft, improvised cello music coming from the other room.
"So…" I mumbled, "let me get this straight. You love him, he loves you, but it's okay for you to screw me?"
He laughed again, I loved how easily he laughed, "that's right."
"Okay, so if I want to I can just be with you and that's okay, he's not gonna be mad at me?"
"Not even a little bit. We have rules that we follow."
"Like what?" I was fascinated.
"Well, we always take a day to ourselves between partners. We always always tell each other about who we're seeing and if the other one doesn't like them it's over."
"Okay." I could agree to this.
"Is this… just a fling?" I hated how vulnerable I sounded in asking him. I sounded fragile and desperate.
"No, no, baby, this can be whatever you'd like. Lafayette had a girlfriend for about two years until she moved home to France, we're allowed to date, but this can be whatever you want it to."
"So… I can be… with you… while you're… with him?"
"Sure can."
I was invigorated, I was drunk, I was hot for him, I turned into him and kissed him hard, moaning at the taste of him on my tongue, slurping and grunting, a cacophony of sounds bursting forth from our union.
"Do you want me?" John asked, rubbing my back again.
"Yeah." I nodded, needing him.
"Do you want me to suck you off?" He traced my features with the tip of his finger.
"Please."
With that, he disappeared under the blankets and pulled my trousers away with my boxers and moaned with the action of taking me into his mouth. I moaned and gripped the sheets feeling him swallow me easily. I turned my head into the pillows and smelled John's bar, the whiskey and smoke clouds that permeated the bar, but with that there were the notes of jasmine and peony that clung to his neck, but there was also another smell, one of leather and oranges. I breathed them in, how the scents swirled together. John kept working, taking me somehow even deeper into his throat. I moaned and felt my calves shake and thighs tremble and came hard into his mouth.
He pulled back and joined me on the pillows, breathing deeply, inhaling the same scent that I was.
"That was amazing," I sighed, "I want to know what you taste like." I dipped down among the covers and could see the outline of his swollen dick through his wide legged trousers.
I pulled them open, moving the fabrics away, he sprung free at the ready and I licked him tentatively, tasting him. He tasted like flowers and oak, like the perfect man should. I took him in my mouth and his hands were at my shoulders, delicately touching me. I moaned around him and felt his back arch against the vibrations. He grunted and I swirled my tongue over the tip like he was my favourite flavour of ice cream and he gasped, I licked the beads that ran over the tip, he was delightfully salty.
"You look so good down there, so pretty sucking me off."
I moaned, no one had ever talked to me like that while I'd done this. He was so delicate with me even as his fingers knotted in my hair, he was gentle and compassionate. I swallowed against him and he moaned again.
"Alexander, baby, you feel so right."
I looked up at him through my lashes and he bit the back of his hand, cumming hard down my throat. I wiped my lips and came up to curl in beside him. He pulled me against his chest and I listened to his heart beating. The cello music had stopped.
"You can just call me Alex." I told him sleepily.
"Okay, I will." John kissed the tip of my nose.
"I've had a lot of fun with you tonight." I told him honestly.
"Me, too." He was outlining my goatee with his fingers.
"You've got a thing for beards, huh?"
"What?" John looked down at me.
I motioned to my goatee, "just, well, and I noticed the, your, he has a..." Usually so skilled with words I faltered all over myself, trying to compose a rational thought.
"Oh, yeah, Lafayette." He laughed softly.
"I think I should probably get going." I inhaled John again, not wanting to leave.
"You don't have to."
"I just… this is your place, his… I feel wrong about, anyways…"
"Okay, at least let me drive you."
"Okay." I nodded.
We got dressed and I followed him once more through the dark apartment. His boyfriend slept on the couch under a thin crocheted afghan, his cello in an open case on the floor in front of him.
John bent over him and spoke in a low voice, "I'm taking Alex home, go on to bed, sweetheart."
Lafayette shook his head, "non, je ne veux pas."
John kissed his temple, "I still don't speak French, my love. I'll be back in a jiffy."
I chuckled softly at this sleepy exchange, they were in love. It panged my heart and I wondered if John would ever be able to talk to me like that. We went out into the night and he opened the door to his automobile for me, I slipped in and he got in beside me. I gave him directions to get to my apartment.
"He's originally from France, lived in New Orleans for a while, he always forgets I don't speak French. I'm sorry, this is probably all too bizarre for you."
I shook my head, "he said, 'no, I don't want to.'"
John turned down a street and looked at me, "you speak French?"
I nodded feeling sassy again, trying to push the strangeness away, "I can do a lot of things."
John met me at my level, "I can't wait to find out what else."
I wanted to see him again, I had to, "this is my apartment."
He stopped the car, "would you like to come over for dinner on Sunday?"
"Will your boyfriend be there?"
"Do you want him to be?"
I had flashes of earlier, smelling the leather and orange scent while John was lapping at me, I didn't even know what I was doing in this new whacky world, but I nodded. I wanted to get to know his boyfriend, too. Wanted to hear him play his cello. If John loved him I wanted to know him, wanted to know who he was. I was sure he was wonderful if I could just get past my jealousy. John would go home to him tonight and they would sleep tangled up together and I would sleep all by myself in my tiny shoebox apartment.
"Yeah, I want him to be."
"Goodnight, Alexander."
"Night, John. I had a really good time with you."
He leaned in a kissed me, "so did I."