The sun was sinking down the terrain for that day, it's now orange and warm glow touching upon the slightest patch of land as it faded away, to let the moon breathe.

As evening crept up the streets of New York filtered into their residences quietly, overhead lanterns and lamps providing a dim illumination for the cobbled roads and smooth pavements. However, as some retire to supper and slumber, others hide behind stacks of paperwork sorting out their career, sleep a mere consideration that slips past their fingers everytime they lift their quills.

And one of them just so happens to be James Madison.

Countless days spent slaving away in his office, reading papers and moving his stiff arm about. What little care he had given for such trivial things had ebbed away over time, just like the common sense that men required sleep. Thumbing through pages upon pages and envelopes upon envelopes began to grow almost like a schedule, James could easily scribble his signature perfectly without so much as glancing at the document.

That night was a particularly sleepless one too. The windows behind him were open wide, unlike during the day, allowing the stars and lamps to file their way through and onto the wooden beams. James' chin was propped upon his palm as he viewed ledgers with half-lidded eyes, careful as to not get lulled by the peaceful atmosphere.

At least, peaceful until a certain Thomas Jefferson barged inside with his almighty enthusiasm.

"Madison! There you are" Thomas grinned and propelled himself forward, leaning over the desk slightly whilst Madison oriented himself. "I've been searching high and low for you! I've also been meaning to invite you over for dinner tonight, my place has been awfully quiet lately, no-one's responded to my invitations since I threatened to poison Hamilton's wine- James, are you listening?"

"Yes, Thomas," James sighed wearily, putting the quillnto the ink tub and looking up at one of his closest confidants - perhaps, his only one too. "And I'm afraid I'll have to say no to your invitation, if you can't see already, I'm in the middle of something."

Thomas scrunched up his face and picked up one of the document slips, skimming the neatly written contents. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Work."

"What work?"

"Your work."

Thomas blinked and set the paper down before glaring straight into James' reddish eyes. "So," he said in a low voice. "You're the person behind my missing documents."

"I only took the ones that I saw laying about for more than two days. Which is a lot," he mumbled the last bit, before staring back into Thomas' surprisingly healthy eyes. "Anyways, I already told you I'm busy. You should get home and sleep."

"Oh, you're telling me," Thomas grinned. "At least I'm not the one who looks like a depraved serial killer."

"I don't look like a serial killer," James argued pointlessly, pushing Thomas' face away when it became too close for comfort. "Now please, I need to finish these."

"You can finish them tomorrow," at this point, Thomas was almost whining. "Come home with me."

"Thomas, I beg of you," James picked up his quill once more. "Leave, go home, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No," Thomas challenged, putting up a smirk when James looked up at him, puzzled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," Thomas repeated, wrapping his fingers around James' fist, which was clenched around the quill, and he subsequently returned the quill into the tub. "You're coming home with me, right now. At this point I'm not allowing you to leave my house."

Madison burned holes into Jefferson's eyes. "No."

"No? Are you refusing me?"

"Yes."

"Are you refusing the State Secretary?"

"I am."

"Are you refusing your best friend?"

"Thomas-" James paused, right before he objected to being Thomas' close friend, because that would be certainly fibbing. When he realized his subtle blunder he gazed back onto Thomas' face, which was graced with an annoyingly smug expression.

"Come on, Madison. For old times' sake."

"Thomas," James sighed with a frown. " Why must you be so persistent?"

"No," Thomas refuted, "why must you be so persistent?"

"Because I'm being reasonable, Thomas-"

"And I want my closest friend to have dinner with me. Is that not reasonable?"

"I suppose not, but-"

"Uh-uh-uh! No 'buts'!" An earsplitting grin adorned Thomas's face as he rounded the desk and grabbed James' shoulders. Being ridiculously light, Thomas managed to pull the shorter man onto his feet and turn him around. "We'll get to the office in time tomorrow for you to continue your fanatic work-a-holic phase, I promise."

James had a weary frown, "Thomas-"

"Promise."

James sighed, before finally pulling up a smile, albeit small and sloppy. "Fine. I'll hold your word to it."

"Excellent!" Thomas cheered, before directing James from his chair by the shoulders and steering him out of the room. "I'll have my servants serve the best supper, roasted beef and everything. I'll break out one of my best casks so we can get hella drunk before bed-"

"Can I at least go home for bed?"

"In your state? Not a chance. You can't promise me I won't find you passed out on your desk again."

"You can walk me home?"

"Absolutely not. You're staying with me tonight, and that's final."

James sighed, pulling his coat from the hanger before Thomas steered him out the doorway and allowing himself to be pushed further down the staircase. With a mind now quieted and calmed down, James pondered upon his eccentric companion: no matter how much Jefferson proved to be exasperating, no days will go by without James appreciating that the flamboyant man would always be there with him