Dressed in the uniform of a television repairman, Hamilton knocked on the door to a house far in the suburbs. It was already proving to be uncomfortable in the warm summer air. In a few seconds, a man opened a door and let Hamilton in. He greeted this man warmly, and was led inside as the man explained how his television had suddenly stopped working in the middle of his baseball game. He then left Hamilton to fix it. His mistake. After a few minutes, Hamilton made sure the man was gone, and quietly set up a camera with a view of most of the room. He checked on the man and snuck back to the man's bedroom, where he hid another one on the top of a door frame. Returning to the man's living room, he took a look out the front window, and met eyes with Jefferson, who was across the road in a car, pretending to read a map.

"There's the signal, turn the power back on," Jefferson said quietly to himself.

In his ear, he heard Angelica's voice. "On it."

A few moments later, the "broken" television came back to life.

"There it is," Hamilton said. "A wire in the back was getting loose, I went ahead and fixed it back up for you."

The man came back, thanked him, and Hamilton went on his way, taking the fake repair van down the road. Jefferson waited a while, and followed. The three agents took different routes, but had the same destination, meeting back at their agency. Together, they found Eliza, who was watching the camera feed. So far, there was nothing of interest, she told them. They would have to wait for a while.

The man in question had already seemed like a person of interest, so they had followed his routine for a while. A few months later, however, he had showed up a few times on the security camera of a very unusual place, far out of his way. It had been enough to warrant investigating him again, to see what may have caused such an uncharacteristic change. Now that the cameras were in place, all they could do was wait.

"I have to say, that cheap uniform made it look like you had a very feminine waist," Jefferson teased as Hamilton changed into his own clothes.

"You're just jealous because you couldn't pull off an all beige uniform," Hamilton responded from beyond the bathroom door.

Jefferson snickered. "To be fair though, you couldn't pull it off either. And from how long you're taking, you can't pull it off in any sense of the phrase. I hope you aren't waiting for me to come in and take it off for you, because I'm not going to."

"Good, I don't want you in here anyways. Keep your cooties to yourself, weirdo." Hamilton said, and opened the door, tucking in his shirt with the other hand.

Jefferson leaned away from the wall next to the door. "What, are you actually going to look presentable now? Now that you have no reason to?"

"I wouldn't say there's no reason," Hamilton said, and looked Jefferson up and down. "It's not like I'm wearing a bright pink suit."

Noticing them standing close together, Laurens made his way over to them. "Hey, I heard you were back, how did it go?"

Hamilton smiled his smug smile at Laurens. "Obviously it went flawlessly, because I was there."

Jefferson rolled his eyes as he whacked Hamilton's leg with his cane, saying, "To everyone's surprise. I was prepared for the likely event that you abandon reason and attack the guy."

"And yet I didn't. I know how to do my job."

Jefferson raised his eyebrows and eyed his partner. "Face it, you'd be lost without me. I swear you're only making an attempt to look more presentable because I look so good every day."

Hamilton straightened up and unabashedly stared right back up at Jefferson. "And sometimes I swear you're only keeping it up in this warm weather because you know I like it."

Laurens paled and looked from Hamilton to Jefferson. To his great relief, Jefferson looked just as confused as he did amused. "What?"

Crossing his arms, Hamilton looked away. "You heard me." He turned and walked away from them, towards his desk.

Laurens stayed with Jefferson, who gave Laurens an unsure glance. "Well, that was a strange way to say that someone's outfit suits them well."

Jumping on the chance to reaffirm a different meaning, Laurens said, "It's not often that he gives a compliment to a friend, it usually comes out more flirtatious on accident."

"I guess I can see that," Jefferson said, and started after Hamilton. Laurens watched him go, hoping that Jefferson bought it.

When Jefferson joined Hamilton at their desks, Hamilton was intently focused on writing something. When he leaned closer to see what it was, Hamilton moved to block his view. "Don't you have something better to do?" Hamilton asked him.

"I suppose I do. But that means you also have something better to do than write nonsense," Jefferson shot back.

With a sigh, Hamilton said, "If you must know, I'm writing out our mission. It helps me organize my thoughts."

Jefferson pulled his chair over and sat down. "So you're keeping a diary."

"It is not a diary."

"It sure sounds like one. Don't worry, I get it, I'm just such an amazing partner that you can't help but write down our jobs together so you don't forget."

Hamilton set down his pen and looked at Jefferson. "For someone who's supposed to be smart, you're really kind of stupid, you know that? And not even just a little bit stupid. Stupid in the way that you're still a child."

"I could say the same about you, more often than not."

Before the day was through, Washington called a meeting, gathering everyone into the conference room. As soon as everyone was present, he wasted no time. "I just got off the phone with Mr. Willard Armitage, who you may know as the owner of the Armitage skyscraper."

"What would a billionaire want with us?" Peggy asked, getting right to the real question.

Washington nodded at her. "I'm glad you asked. He has reason to believe that someone is going to try to kill him at his next party. He has hired us to send a pair of agents to attend and, if his suspicion is true, to neutralize the threat before it can happen." Hamilton and Jefferson exchanged a glance. If there was ever a two person team capable of such a mission, it would be them. "However," Washington continued, "I struggle to think of the best pair to send."

"With all due respect," Jefferson said pointing a finger at himself and Hamilton, "I think we have this covered."

"I wish it were that simple," Washington said.

"You did say it was a pair. And honestly it seems like it could be too dangerous for a pair not already trained to work together like us," Hamilton argued.

With a small shake of his head, Washington negated his whole argument. "I'm afraid I don't see a way I can send you both. Mr. Armitage made it very clear that this event was almost exclusively for the wealthy and their spouses." As Laurens opened his mouth to speak, Washington addressed his protest. "This is not a political climate that is open to same sex unions. I'm afraid it must be a man and a woman whom I send."

"You can send me with Hamilton," Angelica suggested. "I know how to handle myself with grace and poise."

"Hamilton would be no good," Burr chimed in. "He's too unrefined. Anyone else would be a better choice."

Hamilton glared down the table at him. "No one asked you."

"I'm stating the truth. You don't belong anywhere near an event like this. You'd stand out like a sore thumb."

"Enough," Washington said, cutting off Hamilton's response. "While debate is good, I ask for solutions, not an argument."

A moment of silence spread through the room. Washington looked to Eliza, who was deep in thought. She noticed his gaze and spoke up, "I was just thinking, what if there was a way to use Jefferson and Hamilton after all?"

"Like how?" Washington prompted.

"Like, if… now that I go to say it out loud, it sounds stupid."

"Go on, any idea is welcome right now."

Eliza clasped her hands in her lap and briefly glanced at Hamilton. "Well, what if we… dressed Hamilton up as a woman? Jefferson would never be passable, but if we shaved Hamilton's face and did his hair and nails and makeup…"

Peggy leaned forward so she could catch Eliza's eyes. "I am so in! Dibs on doing hair!"

Hamilton looked from the women to Washington and back again. "There is no way I'm letting you dress me as a woman!"

Washington considered the suggestion. "It seems like we don't have many other options. Hamilton, I made your partnership especially for jobs of this type. I trust that you'll be able to handle it with the added difficulty of passing as the opposite sex?"

"Of course I can, but-"

"Then don't let me down. I'm counting on you."

Hamilton saw that he had little choice, and it was obvious that he didn't like it. "Yes sir."

As they made preparations for this new mission, they watched their recently planted cameras, and found that the man in question had a new tattoo; one of a golden crown, just above his wrist on the back of his forearm, where a long sleeved shirt would cover it up. Since this change was so shallow, they gave up on him, and focused their attention to their next objective.

At the end of the month, the day of their mission finally came. Peggy had kept her plans for Hamilton a secret, and now took him into the women's bathroom to bring it all together. It took a few hours, in which Jefferson changed into his sharp black suit, and was then left waiting. Time dragged on as he listened to Peggy working with a protesting Hamilton. After an eternity, the door opened, Hamilton ready at last.

"Finally!" Jefferson said, his accent exaggerated by his impatience. "I was starting to think I'd actually die of old age before you-"

Before him stood a completely new person. Hamilton had been completely made over, to an almost unrecognizable level. The beard had been shaved off to reveal flawless skin. His dark hair was parted on the side and pulled back, soft curls touching the shoulders that were exposed by the slim forest green dress he wore. Hamilton was clearly already in heels, because he stood noticeably taller than before. Peggy had gone all out in his makeover, and had made Hamilton's face look far more feminine than it was normally. The look was completed with clip on earrings and a choker. But none of this drew the eye. The center of attention was Hamilton's maroon red lips. Next to her dark coffee hair and muted eye shadow, its decisive color drew the eye.

Jefferson didn't realize he had fallen silent until Peggy came out a moment after Hamilton, chasing him with her comb in hand. "Hold on, I'm not done yet!"

"Well I am," Hamilton said, passing Jefferson and grabbing his arm. "Plenty of women have flat chests. Come on Jefferson, we're leaving." He pulled Jefferson behind him as he left Peggy behind.

It took a few steps for Jefferson to walk properly, and he fell in step with Hamilton's fast pace, trying not to look at his partner as they went to their mission's vehicle, a sleek black sports car. He didn't say anything as Hamilton put in the Mission Impossible soundtrack. Neither said a word as they crossed the city, or even as they turned off the music and pulled into their parking space. As Jefferson got out and came around to open his door, Hamilton sighed and sat up in his seat, putting on a more neutral face of a small smile. For things to go well, he knew he would have to live Burr's favorite advice; Talk less, smile more.

Hamilton stood up with as much grace as he could muster, and when Jefferson had locked the car, he slid his hand around Jefferson's arm to be walked the short distance to the door of the classy hotel whose ballroom they would be in.

"I'll need to remember to refer to you with female pronouns. Though, when you look like that, I don't think it will be hard to remember," Jefferson said with a bit of an awkward laugh.

Though it was clear that he was trying to make light of their situation, Hamilton was not about to put up with it. "I didn't let Peggy do this for nothing. If you blow my cover, I will be the one lowering you into your grave."

Inside, Hamilton followed Jefferson, led by his arm, as Jefferson took care of the business of getting them in the ballroom. As they had hoped, most of the guests had already arrived, and were making conversation, while a few danced near the chamber ensemble. It was fairly clear that the man in the silver suit was their client, the host. As was typical, there were no faces that stood out as suspicious. Everyone was dressed formally, and seemed to wear their affluence on their wristwatches and hairpieces. Most of the attendees were older, and therefore almost entirely dismissible as possible threats. That was only considering physical violence. If gunfire were considered a possibility, then it would be considerably harder to narrow down.

They spent the first hour of the party watching people. It seemed that everyone had a good relationship with Mr. Armitage. All the smiles they saw seemed to be genuine. Hamilton focused his attention to the staff. It was very clear that the servers worked for the hotel, as they had the name of the hotel on their vests. There was one who seemed to be more unusual than the others. She had skin the color of sand, with long dark hair pulled back into a professional bun. In every way, she was the model of a perfect employee, except for one detail. There seemed to be a small bump over the bottom of her sternum. It was the same place where Angelica kept her concealed carry weapon on the days she wore it. Hamilton lightly nudged Jefferson and pointed her out.

As soon as his eyes found her, Jefferson muttered, "My God, it can't be…"

"Do you know her?" Hamilton asked in a whisper.

It took Jefferson a few seconds to respond. "That has to be her." He started towards her, but Hamilton held him firmly in place.

"Jefferson, do I need to remind you that we are undercover? If someone recognizes you here, that's not a good thing," Hamilton hissed.

He stopped, but didn't take his eyes off of the server. "She's fine, she worked for my old agency." He frowned, realizing what he was saying. "She shouldn't be alive, what is she doing here of all places…?"

Tightening his hold on Jefferson's arm, Hamilton started pulling him in the opposite direction, saying, "She just became our top suspect. We need to investigate the staff-only areas."

Jefferson tried to stop them. "She's already on the inside, she can help us."

Hamilton did stop, but only so he could face his partner and speak in a lower voice. "You and Maddison were the only survivors. Whoever she is, she shouldn't be here. And she happens to be armed. If she sees you, we're through."

Though he clearly didn't agree, Jefferson conceded. "Fine."

"There's a door to my left that the servers have been using. We start back there. If anything happens out here, we split up."

Jefferson nodded a little to show he heard, and looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be distracted, so he placed Hamilton's arm back in his, and they casually made their way to the staff door. Another look told them that no one was watching, so they slipped through the door. When it closed behind them, the sounds of the music was almost completely cut off. Hamilton waited for nothing, and started down the hallway as fast as heels would take him. He tried every door he passed, with Jefferson right behind him, though none were open. They turned the corner and kept going. The first open door, they went in. Of all places, they found themselves in a spacious broom closet.

When the door closed behind them, the light was almost all cut out. After taking a breath, Hamilton turned to Jefferson. "Tell me about her. That agent."

Jefferson laughed a little. "What, are you jealous?"

"She is our prime suspect," Hamilton reminded him with a sneer.

"Fine," Jefferson said with a sigh, and he carefully leaned against the back of the door. "Her name is Mariah Reynolds. I worked with her on a number of occasions. She was never the best at combat, but she knew psychological warfare. She could seduce a man to talk about things he normally wouldn't. That was most of her field work with us. Other than that, I don't know a whole lot about her."

"She's carrying a gun tonight. Whether she is friendly or not, it's reason enough to keep an eye on her when we're trying to stop a murder."

When they were sure no one was coming, the pair slipped back into the hallway. They passed the employee's elevator, and slipped into the kitchen just beyond it. As they split up to start looking around, the sound of approaching footsteps pierced through the swinging doors, and Hamilton and Jefferson, on opposite sides of the room, dropped to the floor behind the countertop islands. The footsteps stopped outside the door, and they listened to the door swing open.

From his position behind the island nearest to the door, Hamilton held his hair away from his face and listened as the footsteps came closer, and stopped. He readied himself to move. The footsteps started approaching. Hamilton dove around the island to the opposite side, and pressed himself against the cupboards. The footsteps didn't turn, heading instead for the door to the refrigerator on the far wall. As soon as the door closed behind the server, Hamilton stood as much as he dared to and made a dash for the far side of the kitchen, where Jefferson was. He had only taken two steps when his long dress caught under his foot, sending him faceplanting onto the tiled floor. Any moment, the server would come out and have a clear view of him.

As Hamilton started to push himself up, a strong hand grabbed his forearm. Hamilton was pulled across the floor and behind the next island. Hamilton gathered himself and his dress behind the island as the refrigerator door opened. He and Jefferson listened with baited breath as the server stepped out and stopped. They set something on the countertop, and the agents heard the fabric sounds of the server bending down to pick something up. Hamilton paled when he realized he had one foot on the cold floor. A confused Jefferson met his eyes, and Hamilton pulled his dress up slightly to show his bare foot.

Jefferson reached in his jacket to rest his hand on his concealed pistol. The footsteps of the server moved away from the counter, and out the door.

"It's this damn dress," Hamilton muttered immediately. "I would be fine if-"

Jefferson put a finger to his lips. "There's still time to figure this out. People don't usually pay attention to each other's shoes." He moved away from the island and opened a cupboard, scanning what was inside. "I was thinking, poison is the most likely weapon. Any other method would leave easily traceable evidence." He closed that cupboard as Hamilton joined his search.

"That makes more work for us," Hamilton reminded him. "With as many people as there are here, we couldn't possibly watch everyone ourselves."

Closing another cupboard, Jefferson stopped. "Honestly, it would be easier to watch for symptoms of poisoning than to prevent a poisoning itself."

Footsteps passed through the hall, and the agents ducked out of sight again, though the kitchen doors remained unmoved. When there was silence once again, Hamilton motioned to the door, and then in the direction they had come from. Jefferson nodded a little, and the two crept to the kitchen door. After peering out, they slipped into the hallway and moved as quietly as they could down the corridor. They heard a door open behind them, and a woman's voice saying, "They could be anywhere. You two check that way, I'll go this way."

Hamilton pushed Jefferson into the closet they had hidden in just before. "What are you thinking, they're bound to check here!" Jefferson hissed between gritted teeth. As the footsteps approached, Hamilton pushed Jefferson farther back, until he was backed against the shelves of cleaning supplies. Before he could protest, Hamilton pulled him down into a kiss, wrapping his leg around Jefferson's. The door to the closet opened, and Jefferson quickly put his hands on Hamilton's waist. Just as the hallway's light shone on them, they were left back in the darkness. The footsteps faded down the hallway.

Jefferson closed his eyes in the relief that they hadn't been caught. He then realized that the person in his arms was Hamilton. He could feel his face grow warm as he moved Hamilton away from him. "Have you not heard of a stage kiss?" he asked a little too loudly.

"Lecture me about theatre later," Hamilton said, going to the door and grabbing the handle. "If they had seen my bare foot, it would have been over."

Jefferson followed close behind, lowering his voice again, pointing at the hand on the handle. "You're supposed to put your thumb between yourself and the other person, it really isn't- …hold on." He pushed Hamilton's arm away from the door, kneeling down to look more closely at it. A small mark carved into the paint had caught his eye. He felt it with a finger, tracing the small shape of a crown. "Do you remember the North Carolina mission?"

Hamilton lowered himself to Jefferson's level, saying, "Most of it. That was the one with the trick door."

Jefferson moved so Hamilton could see the small crown. "Isn't this the same symbol?"

"It looks like it. Do you think there's a secret here too?"

"We're already here, we may as well look while we have the chance."

Jefferson took his phone from his pocket and shone the dimly lit screen, first on the door, and then around at the shelves. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Hamilton checked the stability of the stepladder, and climbed up it to see the top shelves. As he was focusing on the shelves, he bumped his head against the tile ceiling. The tile, however, wasn't loose. Hamilton stepped back down a rung, and pushed on the tile with his hand, before trying the ones around it. After listening for a moment to be sure there was no footsteps outside the closet, Hamilton waved at Jefferson to get his attention, and held out his hand, in which Jefferson placed his phone. Hamilton put it in his mouth for a moment as he climbed another rung and pushed a loose tile up into the ceiling. Jefferson stayed nearby in case of a fall as Hamilton peered up into the newly created hole, taking the phone from his mouth and shining it towards the tile that hadn't moved. Hamilton passed the phone down to Jefferson and carefully brought a cardboard box from inside the ceiling. Jefferson put his phone away and took it as Hamilton descended the ladder.

Inside the box was an unusual discovery. Several uniforms for the hotel, all with the same name sewn on. More than that, each uniform was for a different staff position. One was a chef's. Another was a custodian's. Another appeared to be a bellboy's. All were tailored to be worn by a woman.

As soon as the box was stashed where they found it, Jefferson and Hamilton snuck back out to the ballroom, and mingled within the crowd of guests as they looked around for Mr. Armitage. Hamilton stayed obediently on Jefferson's arm as they made their way to him, and greeted him with a handshake. Jefferson used it as his chance to lean closer to his ear, and whisper that they suspect poison. Mr. Armitage made polite conversation for a few moments, before letting them go, and making his way to what must have been his bodyguard at the side of the room. Within a few minutes, all food had been stopped, and no drinks were served without passing a smell test. Mr. Armitage found them again and thanked them, inviting them to stay for as long as they'd like, sending Jefferson a knowing wink.

Confused, Jefferson looked at his partner, who studied his face for a moment and then looked away as he realized what the wink was about. "Perhaps we should stop by the bathroom," Hamilton suggested, already pulling Jefferson in the direction of the bathroom signs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Jefferson asked, obligingly walking with Hamilton.

"Well, yes. You could say that," Hamilton said, avoiding looking at him.

Facing himself in the mirror, it took a moment for Jefferson to realize what it was. When he noticed it, his eyes dropped to his hands on the counter for a moment, and he straightened up, and glanced around for the nearest paper towels. It took a little bit of trial and error to figure out how to remove Hamilton's lipstick stains from his lips. He rejoined Hamilton outside, and neither knew what to say. They both examined the wallpaper across the hall. Jefferson cleared his throat. "I did say you should have used a stage kiss."

"I still have no idea what that is," Hamilton said.

After a moment of trying to figure out how to further explain, Jefferson gave up and cupped Hamilton's face, placing his thumb over Hamilton's dark red lips as he bent down to kiss him. Hamilton hadn't felt a thing, yet Jefferson backed away and showed Hamilton his thumb. It was the only thing now showing evidence of any intimacy.

Back in the ballroom, the two let the last of their unsure tension dissolve, Hamilton allowing Jefferson to dance with him. As a song ended, one of the servers wove towards them, and stopped in front of them, telling them that Jefferson had a call waiting for him at the front desk. As Jefferson went with the server, Hamilton took a moment to breathe. His respite didn't last long. He realized with overwhelming dread that the server had used Jefferson's real name.

Keeping his movements at a delicate pace was a challenge. As soon as Hamilton was out of the ballroom, he lifted the front of his dress a little and walked with more intent, searching for where the server had taken his partner. A glance told him they were not at the front desk. The next check was the last place he hoped to find them. Hamilton jogged through the staff only corridor, ignoring the staring faces. When he passed the closet, he checked for good measure. It was empty of life. Past the kitchen, one door had faint noises coming behind it. Hamilton lifted his dress and removed a small pistol from its thigh holster. He listened with his ear to the door for a moment, and heard the unmistakable sound of a scuffle.

Hamilton threw the door open and raised his pistol at the nearest person. Maria Reynolds stared back at him, calmly attatching a silencer to her own gun. Jefferson used the sudden arrival to his advantage, swiftly kicking one of his two attackers. The man fell to the floor and stayed there. The other kept his distance.

Hamilton and Reynolds stared at each other for a moment, before she looked bored and pointed her gun at Jefferson. "I know you aren't allowed to shoot," she said, her voice smooth as honey.

"I'm not great at following the rules," Hamilton replied unflinchingly.

Tilting her head back, she looked Hamilton up and down, seeing that he had only one shoe on. "Unfortunately for you, my orders were clear. One way or another, neither of you will walk out of this room alive."

Hamilton glanced at Jefferson, and saw him slowly crouch a little, ready to jump. Meeting Maria Reynolds's eyes again, Hamilton smirked. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not good at dying."

As she opened her mouth to reply to that, she was tackled to the floor. Hamilton stomped on her hand with his remaining shoe and picked up her gun. He pointed it at her, and the other at her co-conspirators. They gave Jefferson their guns on his command.

It was clear after a few minutes that questioning them would be a waste of time, so Jefferson took their pictures with his phone and made a few notes about approximate height and weight. Since they couldn't kill them, Hamilton stayed put as Jefferson brought the hotel's security to handle the three prisoners. With the threat neutralized, they went back to take a picture of the small etched crown that had tipped them off to another secret, before rejoining the party.

Hamilton sat down to give up on shoes altogether, when one of the remaining staff members brought the missing shoe to them. Hamilton grumbled a little before putting it back on. When the next song ended, Jefferson flashed his charming smile and bowed a little, holding out a hand as he asked Hamilton for one more dance. Hamilton noticed that the lipstick mark was still on his thumb. He smirked a little and daintily placed his hand in Jefferson's, for once enjoying acting like the lady he looked like.

The pair stayed until Mr. Armitage left, just as a formality. The sounds of Mission Impossible accompanied them back to the agency, where Hamilton was glad to finally be rid of the heels and jewelry. Jefferson waited for him, his nice suit hung in a garment bag. Peggy had left behind makeup remover, which Hamilton gladly used, though he hesitated for a moment before rubbing off his lipstick. He emerged from the bathroom as himself, and sighed a content sigh.

He met Jefferson's eyes, and Jefferson said, "Finally, I won't have to be seen with some cross dresser."

"So you admit I look better this way?" Hamilton teased.

Jefferson shrugged. "What can I say, it's growing on me."

They went side by side out the front door. Hamilton looked up at Jefferson again, and frowned. "I think your face is starting to swell. Did they beat you up?"

"Only a little," Jefferson said dismissively. "Nothing I didn't repay."

"Still, make sure you put some ice on it tonight."

Surprised by how genuine he sounded, Jefferson looked down at his partner, and met concerned eyes. For a moment, he forgot what he had said. He blinked and looked out to the street. "I'll do that if you actually get decent sleep tonight."

Hamilton laughed a little and dropped his eyes to the pavement. "I can't make any promises."

After a moment of silence, they parted ways.