*Sorry this took so long, biscuits! I've had a horrible attack of "Holy shit why do I have 96000 ongoing unpublished works" BUT I finally updated this one and... Stuff! Is! Going! To! Happen!
Get Ready!*
John POV
John had great difficulty getting to sleep that night. Alexander had dropped off almost instantly, curled up opposite him, but his brain was wide awake, spinning with... whatever had just happened. God, what had just happened?
He ran through the events like a play-by-play, trying to figure out where exactly it had all gone wrong. They'd just been playing that stupid game, Alex had beaten him- and looked adorably pleased with himself when he'd done it- then he had cursed, and Alex had had to go and say... something like that- essentially a fucking proposition- and John had had a hard time reminding himself that he was joking. Trying to get away from that part of the conversation, he'd thrown his pillow, and then ended up tickling him- probably a mistake, as having his hands all over Alex's stomach and sides had done rather unhelpful things to his brain- Alex had fought back, and then... He felt his face heat up at the memory. Alexander had straddled him on the bed, pinned his arms above his head, and stayed there for far too long. He'd looked absolutely terrified when he'd realised how suggestive their position was, and then John had had to go and fucking moan his name? What the fuck was wrong with him? When he'd snapped out of his shock and pushed off him, Alex had run from the room immediately- and no fucking wonder.
A little shell-shocked, John had decided to just pretend it hadn't happened. When Alex had come back in, saying he was leaving, he'd bullshitted something about being lonely- really not the best decision: Alex probably thought he was trying to get with him- oh god oh god oh god- and he'd managed to convince him to stay. Alright. He could deal with this. He could just go on acting like it didn't happen, and hopefully Alex would forget… by some miracle, maybe he would, too. He doubted it. The memory of Alex, pinning him to the bed between his knees, leaning down over him so close he could have counted his eyelashes, the heat of his body brushing lightly against him- he had seriously contemplated wrapping his legs around his waist and making out with him- but he hadn't actually done it, which was the important thing. God, what was he doing even letting that thought enter his head? Alex would have pushed him away, disgusted, and definitely decided to leave. The man was off-limits.
'Why, though?' said an unwelcome part of his brain. 'Why is he so strictly 'out-of-bounds'? He told you himself Eliza's not his girlfriend, you could have a chance…'
He scrunched his eyes shut in the darkness, banishing those thoughts from his head.
'He only said Eliza's not his girlfriend. That doesn't mean he's single. And even if he is, he's probably straight. He's never actually told me his sexuality, which probably means it's not a problematic one- he already knows I'm gay as fuck. And if, by some miracle, he's into guys, he'd still never look at me that way. He only thinks of me as a friend.
And I've literally known him for a week.'
He sighed. Yeah, he was moving far too fast. One week and he'd already convinced himself he was in love with the man- it was just a simple crush. It had to be. He'd get over it. He just had to give it time- and it wasn't worth it to risk their quickly growing friendship on some silly infatuation that would be gone within a month. A month, definitely. Then he'd be over it. And they could go on being friends- there was clearly a connection there, they had just clicked with each other- they fitted together and got on like they'd known each other for years. Maybe that was why his brain had gone into overdrive over him- they'd been laughing and talking, and they'd been really touchy… or, he'd been really touchy, he realised suddenly. Oh god, he'd probably made him so uncomfortable. He wanted to scream, his mind flashing back and reliving every tiny bit of contact between them, trying to remember whether Alex had seemed anxious or disgusted, if he'd tried to pull away… He had seemed surprised when John put an arm around his shoulders as they walked to the club, but he had slipped his hand around John's waist and leaned closer. That had been a shock- though not an unpleasant one, but it didn't mean anything. And Alex had barely stopped touching him in the club, but he'd been drunk, and, still, it didn't mean anything. Maybe he was just an affectionate guy. Hell, he was way touchier with Herc and Lafayette sometimes.
After one week, though?
No. It didn't mean anything.
Sighing, he rolled onto his side, his back to Alex, and tried to clear his head. Whatever he thought, he had to get a grip on himself around him, or he was going to start suspecting something. He had to work on being more normal- touch him less, stop making suggestive comments (God, he was usually more than down for fake flirt-fighting, but doing it with Alexander had damn near ended his life), act like his feelings were purely platonic. No more casually shoving his hands up Alex's shirt. He could get over this. Nothing weird at all was going to happen tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow was going to consist entirely of friendly, platonic touching, and not much of it. Yeah. He could do this.
Those thoughts seemed rather insignificant the next morning, when John woke up to find himself almost entirely on top of his friend. Alexander's face was buried into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, one hand twisted into the material of his shirt, the other resting feather-light on the skin just above his waistband- their bodies were flush against each other, almost perfectly aligned: chest to chest, hip to hip, oh god. His own arms were wrapped around Alex's small form, pulling him close, and he was so warm, so soft- the strands of hair that brushed John's cheek were nothing like his own coarse curls. In his sleep, Alexander shifted, lips moving to mouth unconsciously at John's neck, his mouth hot and open and wet and Jesus fuck, now was really not the time for his pants to grow tight and his heart-rate to quicken but Alexander was sprawled and pressed against him and there wasn't an inch without contact, and John let slip a whimper as Alex's hips shifted up and he felt himself rub against him- oh fuck-
He tried to pull away, but his arms were trapped underneath Alex's weight, and, as he struggled to extricate himself, the man's eyes fluttered blearily open. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit… He braced himself for the startled disgust, for Alex to push him off and leave, or to shout at him for being a creep. None of it came. They made eye contact, and Alex, still mostly asleep, only used his legs to pull them more tightly against each other, yawning and nuzzling at the skin of John's collarbone. Holy fuck, this was all far too much.
"A-Alexander- I-" he stuttered, trying to pull his arms away again. He managed to get one free, and used it to lift the man up slightly and free the other. As he made to sit up, however, Alex tightened his grip on his shirt and tried weakly to pull him back down again.
"Hey, don't go, you're warm…" he murmured, drawing out the last word in a gravelly, sleepy voice that made John's intestines seize up and coil. It was really, really tempting to lie back down and slam their lips together, when Alexander was looking up at him through his eyelashes, legs wrapped around his waist and hair dishevelled, and he could almost imagine how his lips would taste-
John pushed himself backwards and half-fell out of the blanket fort, scrambling to get out of the room. He stood rather dazed in the hall, breathing hard. So much for that plan.
'Well, it looks like the tables have turned' said the unwelcome part of his brain.
'No.' he told it firmly. 'It's still just me getting into an uncomfortably sexual position with Alexander and one of us freaking out and leaving.'
'Alexander blushed and left in a hurry last time.' the voice reminded him. 'What if- '
'No, Alex was uncomfortable and wanted out of the situation. He didn't leave because he was turned on. That is a ridiculous idea. I can't believe you're even suggesting it.'
'I didn't actually say that, you know.'
'Shut up.'
John leaned back against the wall and groaned. What the fuck was he going to do? He was hopeless. He went and splashed his face with cold water and got himself some breakfast. He knew he shouldn't tire himself out today- he had the night shift- and usually, he would have spent the day sketching or watching TV in the living room… but Alexander was in there, and he really couldn't be around him right now. There was card in a draw in the kitchen, though, along with his pencils, so he could still… What could be so bad about sketching to calm himself down? He decided it would help distract him.
Twenty minutes later, sitting at the kitchen table with a flowing sketch of Alexander looking up through his lashes with low-lidded eyes, a light blush painting his cheeks and bottom lip caught between his teeth, John was on the verge of actually screaming. What was wrong with him?
Alexander Hamilton was ruining his life. The worst part was that he'd have died before he wanted him out of it.
The man was fascinating, funny, adorable, and smart. What more could you want in a person- in a friend? Friend, John reminded himself. Nothing more. Without really thinking about it, he carried on with the sketch, pencil tracing the smooth lines of Alexander's jaw, the way his pyjama shirt hitched around his collarbones. The sight was etched onto his eyelids like a tattoo- it was almost as if he was drawing from life rather than from memory. His eyes had been so dark, dusted with sleep, staring up at him like pools of inkpots,
"Hey, John?" John snapped upright, threw his arms over the picture and hoped to god his blush wasn't as deep as it felt.
"Y- Yeah?" He turned around. Alexander was standing, smiling, in the doorway, his hair pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, John's too-long pyjamas pooling at his ankles. Who gave him the fucking right to be so cute all the time? It wasn't fair.
"Uh- where are my clothes?" he asked. "I'm going to head home- I've got some work to do. And- uh- " he gave a small chuckle. "Don't worry, I'm not going to look at your drawing if you don't want me to. Though I'd love to see a finished piece sometime- that sketch of Angelica you showed Madison was really cool!"
"Oh- uh- thanks." John spluttered, not taking his arms away from the drawing. "I put your clothes on the stairs- they're really obvious, you can't miss them."
"Ok, thanks." Alex flashed him a toothy smile that made his stomach flip, and left.
John spent a good few seconds trying to commit that smile to memory.
He spent the next few thanking whatever gods would listen that Alexander seemed to have been too drowsy to recognise the implications of that morning's exchange, and the position they'd woken up in. Perhaps he was just too innocent (or too straight) to pick up on it at all. Either way, he didn't seem uncomfortable, and hadn't brought it up; John felt like he was letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding- this made matters marginally easier. He could get through this. He just had to keep his head on straight (ha) around Alexander, and he would gradually become immune to his charms. Being around him a lot would surely be the best solution.
Once he was fairly confident that Alex would be changed, he ventured out into the hall (not before tearing out the page he'd been drawing on and sticking it hastily into the back of his binder) to say goodbye to him. He found the young man tying his shoelaces at the bottom of the stairs, and Alexander smiled when he heard him approaching. He stood and beamed at him- a smile that made it impossible for John not to grin too.
"Well, thanks, I guess."
"Thanks?"
"For the cool weekend. Well, Saturday. It's been- uh- really fun." John chuckled.
"No problem, it was our pleasure. Hope you'll join us again sometime- having you around definitely beats being the third wheel." And having literally anyone else around. Or doing literally anything. Like, winning eleven Tonys or some shit. Was that a lot of Tonys? He wasn't sure. Either way, Alex giggled and smiled wider still.
"Great to hear! I'll- uh- " he backed uncomfortably towards the door. "I'll be going then. Uh- bye?"
"Bye."
How did they say goodbye? They stood a few inches from each other, awkwardly trying to feel out the friendship level. John was pretty sure he'd never shaken hands with anyone in his life- it was so formal, and clapping him on the back seemed horribly dude-broey. But could they hug? Were they close enough to hug? Granted, they had just woken up cuddling, but that had been beyond their control. Still a little worried that Alex would think he was harassing him after his response during the tickle fight, John let him take the lead. Which, in the end, entailed Alex's warm arms being wrapped around his waist and a smile being pressed into his shoulder.
"See you around!" Alex said brightly as he pulled away. "Text me later? It'll get me to not work myself to death." John couldn't help but laugh at that.
"I will. Bye, Alex."
"Goodbye, John."
Alexander waved from the street as he started off in the direction of the Grind-Stone, and John's heart grew warm as he returned the gesture, watching Alex's beaming face retreat. Shit, he had it really, really bad.
But still, he'd just managed to hold an entirely normal conversation with him, and lived to tell the tale. That was progress. Hopefully, things would get easier as the time went on. For now, he set about dismantling the pillow fort- a surprisingly difficult process to complete by himself. After about half an hour, he found Alex's sweater, left behind, buried under a few cushions, and pulled it on without really thinking. It was baggy and warm, and it smelled like Alexander. John wanted nothing more than to disappear inside it- the smell was calming and comforting; it made him think of home…
Okay. Maybe this crush needed a little bit of work.
Over the next couple of weeks, things did get easier. Alexander came to the Grind-stone on a regular, sometimes just to chat and drink coffee, but often to write. Sometimes Eliza was with him, and John found that she was sweet, kind, and cleverer than you would have expected, and that she could have lived on caramel frapuccinos. When Angelica was there, they talked and laughed inseparably, but when she wasn't, she giggled and goofed around with Alexander. To start with, John began to doubt whether Alexander was telling the truth about Eliza just being a friend- they were so close with each other- but then, one Tuesday afternoon, a beautiful young woman with big doe-eyes and a handbag that matched her lipstick walked in and kissed the middle Schuyler squarely on the mouth. That seemed to settle that. Maria Lewis, as John found she was called, was sassy, but almost as sweet as her girlfriend, and got on famously with Angelica- which was lucky, or she would have been out of the door in a heartbeat. There was nothing Angelica valued more in the world than her sisters.
Herc and Lafayette still practically lived at the counter, and took a shine to the two girls immediately; within minutes, Hercules was offering to tailor dresses for them, and Lafayette was cooing over how beautiful Maria's hair was. John joined in when he had a spare moment, saying things like "beautiful" and "enchanting" and trying not to look at Alexander.
Burr was there more often, too- usually with Alex. The pair would hole themselves up in a corner- a booth, if one was free- and work on their political science essays well into the night. He often turned up to his early-morning shift to find them in double-digits of espresso and Burr's head knocking the desk at regular intervals. He couldn't deny that he was starting to get worried about the man. The bruises no-one wanted to ask about were growing less frequent, but he was speaking less and less, and was rapidly losing weight. He looked ill. When he could, John tried to find ways of sneaking him a bagel or muffin- he knew Burr would never accept them for free, so he kept making up new 'limited-time-only deals' to get him to eat. He wished there was more he could do.
Sometimes, though, it was just Alexander.
The man wrote furiously fast, fingers flying over the keys so quickly John was surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke behind them, and drank more coffee than he would have thought possible. When he started, nothing else could disturb him, and he remained glued to his laptop screen until he finished or had to go to class. On the rare occasion that he didn't have work with him, he would sit and talk and laugh with him- and Laf and Herc, if they were there. It was weird- weird in that it wasn't. At all. It felt like Alex had always been their friend- he couldn't imagine their squad without him, now. Never mind that his entire world lurched when Alexander smiled.
And John kept drawing him. He was getting better and better, he thought, closer every time to capturing the restless, fascinating form of the man he was quickly beginning to think of as his best friend. It was difficult, but he was getting better. The binder he kept his pictures in was starting to fill up- but he didn't know why he was so against drawing Alex in an ordinary sketch-book. It just felt wrong. He kept using any old thing that came to hand- though he did use sheets of drawing paper sometimes. Flattened-out coffee cups were a pain to get into folders. He currently had pages and pages of one particular position- the sheets were filled with the image of Alex bent over his computer, tired eyes fixed determinedly on the screen, a few strands of hair falling scruffily around his face, chewing on his bottom lip until he actually drew blood. It how he almost always sat if he was going to be there long-term- and also the closest he ever came to sitting still. Only his teeth, fingers, and his left foot moved- the last tapping a quick, almost violent rhythm into the floor. He had started to wear a shine into the spot below his favourite seat.
Alex also kept coming with them to the Place to Be, as well- something more than welcome, as John was now saved from being a third wheel. Quite often, Alexander stayed moderately sober, and, though John really tried to control himself in front of him, his total inability to hold his liquor had led to some… interesting situations. Lafayette had told him, through tears of laughter, that he had spent almost forty five minutes trying to find the right word to describe Alexander's eyes, and had ended up settling for "Pretty".
"Oh, mon ami- " he had spluttered. "I have never seen a person blush so much in my life. You could feel the heat from his cheeks, I swear it. It was adorable." John had punched his arm, and, thankfully, Alexander hadn't brought it up.
They'd started spending more time together when not drunk, too. When Alex was free (mostly) of homework, he would text one of them, and, after the OK, would pitch up at the apartment, often with a movie or pizza. Though he'd been very hesitant to do it at first, worried that he was intruding and locked a little inside his shell, after a fortnight, he was comfortably curled on their sofa in pyjamas (the shirt was his, but the pants were John's), starting up a movie. It turned out that he was almost as big a fan of cartoons as the rest of them- but that the only Disney movie he'd ever seen was The Little Mermaid- which he didn't like, because of the storm. He had looked uncomfortable as he said this, and none of them had pressed the matter. In light of these facts, however, the three friends had immediately insisted on giving him a 'Disneycation'- and today's gem was the Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was one of John's favourites- and very underrated, in his opinion. They had ordered a pizza- Burr never seemed to have leftovers these days, though John didn't want to think too hard about the implications of that, especially coupled with the man's deteriorating health- and it was set on the coffee table in front of the screen, pineapple carefully picked off of one half by Lafayette.
Laf was slumped on the sofa next to Alex, while Herc had sprawled himself on John's bed, and John himself sat on the floor on a small mound of cushions, the back of his head brushing against Alex's knees. It had become their usual set-up. Alexander often fell asleep half-way through a movie, and John, as Hercules put it, was the next youngest and, therefore, didn't have creaky old bones like him and Laf. Which was total bullshit, but John didn't really mind sitting on the floor. It meant he was closer to the pizza.
The movie started up, and John, Laf, and Herc hummed along to the music, Alex grinning in amusement from the couch. He had yet to get used to their constant singing. They ate and watched in something far from silence, what with the serenades- (John was the only one who could reach the top notes in 'the Bells of Notre Dame' and he damn near shattered a window, while Hercules' rendition of 'God help the Outcasts' actually had Alexander close to tears) the laughter (Alex thought the talking gargoyles were the funniest thing he'd ever seen), and the general commentary- which, at one point, involved Lafayette throwing his slipper at the screen and shouting "Vous putain de pervers!"- and John wouldn't have had it any other way.
They did quieten down a little by the end, though, and Alexander went almost completely still as Quasimodo knelt beside Esmerelda's seemingly lifeless body, clearly believing that she was dead. Absorbed in the screen, John started slightly as he felt something brush the back of his head, and he was about to pull away from the sensation when he realised just what it was- Alexander was playing with his hair. His nimble fingers were running through the curls, tugging lightly, nails rubbing occasionally at his scalp, and it felt far too nice for John's own good. He leaned into the touch unconsciously, biting back a soft moan, and Alex stopped short for a second. He carried on after a moment, however, so John assumed that he'd simply been readjusting his position.
He continued his ministrations until the film was over, leaving John pleasantly calm and his scalp tingling slightly. As he leaned forward to turn off the screen, he didn't miss Hercules' suggestive smirk to his right, and had difficulty resisting the temptation to flip him off.
"That was really good." he heard Alexander say from behind him. "It might be my new favourite."
"Nah, man, Lion King for the win!"
"I haven't seen the Lion King yet, Herc, remember?"
"Oh. Right." John turned back around, smiling at Alex.
"What was your favourite before?"
"Mulan." He answered without hesitation. "And I'm definitely torn… the songs in Mulan are so great, and it was refreshing to see a heroine whose main plot-line wasn't her Handsome Prince."
"Ha- don't watch the sequel, then."
"But this one's music was absolutely stunning, and the main character didn't get the girl! That was unexpected. Like, I thought they were going to have him accept his appearance because Esmerelda fell in love with him, so it was cool that that didn't happen." He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, stretching. "Also, Phoebus can fucking take me, like goddamn."
Wait, what?
Laughing, Hercules grabbed an abandoned pizza crust.
"Pretty sure Laurens here would agree with you, dude." he said. "That guy was, like, his first crush." John managed to come to his senses enough to throw a cushion at him, but his mind was racing. Did that mean…?
"Aww, now I've got to compete with John for his love? That's not fair, he's too cute." Alexander stuck out his bottom lip, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.
"Just make it a threesome, man, I'm sure Phoebus wouldn't complain." Herc shrugged. Alex snorted.
"Sure, why not? John, what do you say? You down?" Hell yes. But we can skip the Phoebus part…
"Uh…"
"Hey, I'm just saying, if you really loved me, you'd share him. Pretty selfish keeping all that to yourself." He quirked an eyebrow. John forced himself to laugh.
"I think we're forgetting the part where this man is a cartoon character. And isn't he straight?"
"Where's the proof of that? Just cause he's with a girl on this occasion- he could easily be bi, like me."
'Like me.'
Alexander was queer.
John's head spun. It shouldn't have been that big a deal- it still didn't mean that Alex liked him the way he like Alex- but knowing that he could... it gave him jitters like nobody's business. He had to concentrate hard to fight the urge to get up and punch the air, but, with an effort, managed to drag himself back to reality.
"Might have to make it a foursome, though." Herc was pointing out. "Laf'll get jealous."
"And you won't? Wait, sorry, are you-?"
"I'm not straight, man, don't worry." Herc laughed. "Think I'd have been accepted into this squad if I was? Sir Sun God just isn't really my type."
"How? He's literal perfection?"
"I don't know- he's a little 'noble' for my taste."
"Literally look at him, Herc. John, Laf, back me up here, is he not… hey, Laf? Are you alright?"
John looked around. Lafayette had been unusually quiet since about halfway through the movie, he realised suddenly, and he was now sitting cross-legged, twisting his long hands together in his lap, apparently thinking hard. He looked up at Alex's question, blinking out of his thoughts.
"Hmm? Oh, oui. Oui, I am fine, mon ami, I simply- uh…" he trailed off. He bit his lip. "Could I talk to you about something?"
"Well, yeah." Hercules got to his feet and crossed to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him, mirth gone from his face. "Yeah, of course. Always. What is it?"
"It's- uh…" Lafayette laughed shakily. "It's- oh, it is so silly, I just- "
"Hey, no." John cut his friend off. He had known Lafayette for years, and known him well. He knew enough to see that he was very, very nervous. "Don't say that. If it matters that much to you, it matters to us. Alright?" Lafayette swallowed, and nodded.
"Alright."
"Should I- uh- ?" It was Alexander. He had started to get to his feet, obviously worried he was intruding. Laf grabbed his arm and shook his head firmly.
"Non, Alexander, stay. I may not have known you long, but you are a good friend and I trust you." John caught Alex's surprise in his pink cheeks and wide eyes.
"O- Okay. Thank you." he said, sitting back down. Lafayette took a steadying breath.
"It is… this is very important to me, and I have been thinking about it for a long time, so you must understand that I am sure about this, and I- "
"Laf, it's alright." Hercules assured him, rubbing his hand across the space between Laf's shoulder blades, tracing firm circles there. "You know you can talk to us about anything, right? We're only your best friends- and what are friends for? Whatever it is, we love you. We're all weirdos here, man." Lafayette exhaled sharply, ducking his head, his fingers tightening around each other until his knuckles went white.
"That is the problem, Hercules." he murmured. "I… I am not a man."
Oh.
"I am... I am non-binary. I've known for a while."
"Oh." Hercules' hand had stopped moving, his eyes wide. "Oh. Oh shit, Laf." Laf made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and leaned sideways, head knocking gently against Hercules' chest. Without hesitation, Herc slid off the couch and pulled his friend upwards into a tight hug, holding them close as they started to cry in earnest. John joined the pair quickly, wrapping his arms around Laf from behind, burying his face into the gap between Herc's arm and Lafayette's shoulder.
"Well done." he muttered. He remembered coming out to his friends, even though he knew they would accept him, as both were openly queer, how terrified he had been despite there being no chance of a negative outcome, how his brain had screamed at him that they would think he was a freak like his father had. How much worse must it have been, doing what Laf had just done- come out to a room of cis men about their gender? "You are so brave." he told them. "You are so brave and we love you."
"We love you." Hercules repeated. Lafayette sobbed and pulled them closer.
John realised abruptly that Alexander wasn't with them, and turned out of the embrace slightly to hold out an arm to him. Smiling, Alex took his hand and moved forward to slot himself into Lafayette's side.
The four of them stayed like that for goodness knows how long- it could have been minutes, it felt more like days- Herc, John and Alex holding Lafayette as tightly as they could, trying to say every word they needed to with their warm, strong arms and comforting hands. After a while, Laf's sobs abated, and they pulled away slightly, arms still tangled with Hercules'. Their eyes and their cheeks were wet, but they were smiling more brightly than John had ever seen them. They lit up the room. The other three beamed right back, and, when Lafayette started to laugh- a shaky, breathless sound still close to a sob, they joined them instantly. Their relief was clear. John had never been prouder of his friend.
"So- " Hercules cupped Laf's face in his hands, brushing tears from their cheek with his thumb. "Pronouns?"
"They/them/their" they answered promptly, and Hercules smiled.
"Got it. God, I am so proud of you, Laf. You hear me? So goddamn proud. I- We love you. So much."
"We really do." John assured them- though he didn't miss Hercules' almost-slip-up.
"Yeah, way to go!" Alex grinned, gripping their shoulder. "You're so brave for telling us- I'm guessing we're the first people you've come out to?" Laf nodded. Alex squeezed their arm gently, expression softening. "Well, I must say it's an honour that you trusted me with this… you know, we haven't known each other that long, and- "
"Friendship isn't measured by the time you've known each other, Alex." Herc told him, shaking his head fondly. "You already feel like part of the family."
"It is true, Alexander." Laf agreed. "Almost as soon as I met you, I knew we would be good friends- this little four seems meant to be…"
"It really does." John nodded, putting an arm around Alexander's shoulder without thinking. The smaller man didn't hesitate this time, and wrapped his arms around John's waist. It felt nice, and it felt safe. John couldn't stop beaming. Hercules seemed to think for a moment, then his face brightened.
"What do you say I run out and get a shit-ton of sweets to celebrate? Laf deserves some pampering." He was met by enthusiastic assent- but they all went with him, pyjamas and all, and didn't give a flying fuck about the woman behind the counter who scowled at them when they dumped armfuls of m&ms and strawberry laces in front of her- and who definitely overcharged them by at least three dollars. John could tell Alexander wanted to say something about it, but resisted in the face of Laf's beaming and constant chattering, and John's grip on his arm steering him out of the shop. Lafayette was practically skipping. It seemed like a weight had been lifted off them- like they no longer had to hide anything- and, if he noticed that, John could only imaging how Laf felt. None of them could banish the laughter from their mouths.
As he fell asleep that night (early morning) with his head on Alexander's stomach and his arms around Lafayette's waist- Hercules curled around all three of them like a great big mother bear- with sweet wrappers strewn all over them like extremely shitty confetti, John's last thought was that he could have honestly stayed there forever. If the rest of his life felt like this, warm, giggly, and lying fitted together like a jigsaw with his three best friends, he couldn't have found a fault with it.
Well, actually, that was his second-to-last thought. His last thought was that, if the rest of his life was like this, he was going to have to invest in some earplugs. Lafayette's snores could have woken the dead.
*Woohoo! Wasn't that a roller coaster?
They're giant nerds and they love each other and I love them. Ugh.
See u in the next one!*
