John Laurens rushed through the maze of tents set up in the camp, in a hurry to get to the far side. All around him were the usual sounds of army life; men laughing around a fire, passing a bottle of ale between them to stay warm, others yelling trying to find someone or something, and the constant noise from the horses on the outskirts of camp. John heard none of that though. His mind was too preoccupied thinking about the price of paper he still had clutched in his hand.
He had been asleep when the messenger arrived. It was the first time he had been able to sleep in a bed in a week; he had been on the road on a mission from General Washington, and he had just arrived back. He hadn't even been able to get a room in the house where the other aide-de-camps were staying, because his bed had been in use by someone else, and a spare wouldn't be available until tomorrow. He wound up in a tent instead, and had fallen asleep quickly before being woken up several hours later. If anyone else had sent that note he wouldn't have even bothered getting up, but it was Alexander...
Right away John had noticed something was wrong. The note was written in Alexanders hand, but instead of the graceful words he usually wrote, it was shaky and barely legible. In it, Alex requested John to come to his room as quickly as possible, but held no other information. Thoughts raced in Johns head; had something happened to his friend, or had he been hurt? Oh God, what if he had caught a fever or some other sickness! How would he be able to handle losing his best friend? John shook his head in an effort to rid himself of those thoughts. You need to calm yourself, Laurens. If anything bad had happened Alexander would have told at the very least Lafayette would have brought you a letter himself.
No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't shake the thoughts. The only time the thoughts left were when they were shattered by the cough he had picked up on the road. He would need to talk to the doctor sometime today, he knew, otherwise he would be in no shape to fight. He was nearly there when he heard someone call his name. John looked up and saw his friend Benjamin Tallmadge walking towards him.
"Good to see you back, John. I trust everything went well?" In addition to being a friend of both Alexander and John, Benjamin was in charge of intelligence for the army, so he worked closely with him on occasion. This last mission had been part of an operation Ben had put together, trying to get information to an agent.
"It went well. I've briefed General Washington already, but I got in touch with your man." He tried to stifle a cough but was unsuccessful. Ben patted him on his back.
"You can tell me more later. You need to go some rest and get rid of that cough. Doc is up at the house, and it looks like you're headed there now. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He walked off, waving goodbye.
John watched his friends retreating back. Why would the doctor be up at the house? Washington has his own physician, so the only people who would are Doc are... Damn it. He must be with Alexander. He picked up his pace and in just a moment he was at the house that served as headquarters.
He walked in, rendering the nesseccary salutes and greetings on his way up to Alexanders room. John was opening the door when someone tried to exit the room and nearly collided with him. It was the doctor, one of the best in the camp. "Ah, Laurens. Hamiltons been asking for you. I'm glad you're here finally."
"As am I, sir." Speaking sent him into another coughing fit, which made the doctor sigh.
"Not you, too. Go on in, I'll get you something to soothe that cough." He made his way down the stairs, and John entered the room.
The curtains were drawn, and there on the bed was the small frame of Alexander, curled up in a small ball. John rushed over to the bed and sat on the side on it, reaching over to rub the red headed mans back. "Alexander, I'm here. Are you awake?" He asked quietly.
Alexander moaned, rolling over to face John. He cracked one eye open and gave him a weak smile. "John. You're back." He closed his eye but reached out to gently squeeze Johns hand.
John squeezed it back in return. "Yeah, I am. For a few days at least." This time he was more successful at holding back his cough, barely making a noise as so not to disturb Alexander. "What's wrong?" He lightly tucked a red strand of hair behind his friends ear, so gentle Alexander wasn't sure if it hadn't been his imagination.
"I feel awful, John. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to make it!" Alexander said in a feeble voice. "I can't breathe through my nose, or stop coughing, and I'm so tired I can barely hold my quill! Its awful, John!"
John just started at him in silence. Realizing he was getting no response, Alexander sat up slowly. "What?"
"A cold." John said, amused. "That's called a summer cold."
"Right you are, young man. And not nearly as bad as the one you yourself have!" Both Alexander and John jumped; they hadn't heard the doctor return. "Are you still whining, Hamilton? Here, take these, both of you." The two reached out and grabbed the mugs he had thrust at them. "Drink up!" The doctor said cheerfully, a slightly evil glint in his eye as he watched them.
John looked into the cup. What ever was in there smelled toxic. "Do we have to drink it, Doc?" He said plaintively, sounding for all the world like a small child.
"Yes you must."
"I think I would rather be sick" mumbled Alexander quietly. It did no good, because the doctor heard him.
"Oh, do you feel better then, Hamilton? Aaron Burr is here and the General was looking for someone to have a meeting with him; should I tell him you are available?"
"Oh God, no!" Alexander hastily swollowed the concoction, John following suit. The doctor chuckeled at the faces they both pulled as he handed them some soup to eat.
"Eat this, then you both need rest! Laurens, it seems like your room has been taken over for the time being. I want to keep you away from others as much as possible, so you have two options. You can either get a cot in the camp with the other soldiers who have this sickness, or you and Mr Hamilton here will have to share a bed, since there is no spare cot in here. You two are the only two officers who are sick, and I would like to keep it that way."
John looked at Alexander, carefully schooling his face so he showed no emotion. It wasn't like it was a hard choice, anyway; John had passed the sick tent on his way over and the stench of unwashed bodies and sick was overpowering. "I'll stay here, sir. Its not a problem." John could see the smirk on Alexanders face, his vivid blue eyes twinkling their amusement.
"Very well,then. I'll be back-" the doctor was interrupted by the bedroom for flying open and a young man in uniform burst into the room.
"Alexander, are you all right? Doctor, will he be okay? Oh thank God you're here as well, John!" It was the Marquis de Lafayette, their closest friend in the camp.
The doctor threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "How many people did you summon, Hamilton! Monsieur Lafayette, he is fine. He just has a summer cold, as does Laurens. They just need rest and medicine, that's all. They will be good as new soon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave of you before anyone else joins this party!" With that the doctor gathered his belongings and left the room.
Lafayette was glaring at Alexander, who just smiled at him. "I feel like I'm dying, Laf! I just wanted to be with my friends when I'm sick!"
Lafayette just shook his head and looked at John, who was taking off his boots. "Doc said to get some rest, and I plan to do so, Laf. Someone's in my room and they want to keep us separate in case what we have spreads." Finally getting both boots off, he put them to the side and took off his jacket before pushing Alexander to the side of the bed. "Scoot, I'm exhausted since someone woke me up and had me worried that they were dying!"
"Wait, you can spread this?!" Lafayette screeched. "And you invited me in here! I swear to you, Alexander Hamilton, if you get me sick, you won't have to worry about a redcoat killing you, because I will do it myself!" With that he turned on his heels and fled the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Thank God!" John moaned, barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to get situated in the bed.
"Agreed!" Yawned Alexander, moving so John had slightly more room. Soon the two men were sound asleep, both snoring because of the congestion. Later on in the evening the doctor came back, but could tell from the bottom of the stairs it would be no use to wake them, that sleep was all they needed at the moment.
"Thank goodness for small miracles," her mumbled to himself as he walked out of the house towards his tent. "I don't think I could deal with Hamilton whining like a child right now!" He chuckled at the memory as he prepare to go to bed, exhausted after caring for the camp that day.
Woohoo! Look, I got it up on time! So this will be a series of one shots stories, set during the revolutionary war. I've gone with historically accurate depictions, but based their personalities on the play. Who knows who will show up (like Ben Tallmadge...can you tell I'm watching Turn: Washington's Spies? Holy goodness, that man is GORGEOUS!) or what will happen!
Thanks, as always, to iJustCameHereToComment, since this was something she and I had brainstormed together! You are the best smol bean ever! Also, y'all need to brainstorm on a regular basis. We come up with some off the wall things that have me dying from laughter!