"So, when are we getting married?"

Alex looked up from what he was scribbling at his travel-desk and blinked at him owlishly. John laid relaxed on his side on their shared cot, his head propped up on one arm. He had been watching Alex work in the glow of a precariously balanced-on-the-edge candle for a few comfortable minutes before that thought had popped into his head, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?"

John's lips curled into a grin. "When are we getting married?" he repeated. Alex just stared back at him as if he was trying to assess how serious he was, so he went on. "Your father promised me your hand, and your mother is… more or less not opposed, I guess? So. Weddings."

Alex blinked, shook his head, and chuckled as he turned back to his cluttered desk.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I haven't agreed to any wedding. I'm not cattle, you know, you can't just have me because my father said you could."

"Oh?" John said and arched a brow. Alex's tone was playful, and he could see half of the smile on his face–well, if he wanted to play, John wouldn't deny him. "I do recall you telling me that you would marry me, given the chance. Was I too presumptuous in assuming that was a 'yes'?"

Alex scrunched his nose and made a haughty sound in his throat, and John snickered. "So, you're saying I don't get a proposal just because you think you already know my answer?"

"Hm…" John hummed and rubbed at his chin with his free hand. "Well, when you put it like that-"

"Exactly," Alex said. "If you want a wedding, you'll have to come up with a proposal first," he said and glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, a spark of mischief in his gaze, and once again turned his focus back to his work.

Well, fine by him. He could do a proposal, no big deal.

John swung himself up and off the cot and strode over to Alex, stood there and waited until he graced him with his attention, and offered his hand.

Alex, of course not about to make any of this easy, just sat and looked at it in slight disdain.

"What?"

"You want a proposal. I'll give you one," he said, his smile crooked in a way he knew Alex adored, but he still continued to sit and stare.

"Right now? Don't you want to put a bit of thought into that? Besides, I have work-"

"I don't need to think about it, I know exactly what I want to say," he cut in, and, tired of waiting for Mister Hamilton to get off his ass, plucked he quill from his fingers, took his now empty hand in his, and pulled him up and off the chair. "And your work can wait, darling."

Alex gasped a scandalised breath and shook his head in disapproval, even as he went along willingly with John's gentle maneuvering of him, and they fell into position opposite each other, their hands clasped between their chests.

"I haven't even agreed to marry you yet, and here you are, thinking you can order me around," he said. "If this is what marriage is going to look like, I don't know if I should-"

John squeezed Alex's hands and huffed a laugh, fond and a little breathy, and that got him silence.

"How about you listen to what I have to say, darling?"

Alex hummed in contemplation and took a moment to think about it, shot him a grin when he had apparently arrived at his conclusion.

"All right, can't hurt to give you a chance."

"How generous," he said, but he shed his sarcasm and gripped Alex's hands a bit tighter as he prepared himself to speak, and some of the mirth left Alex's expression as well.

"You know I love you, Alex," he began, quieter than before, soft and private, and Alex's teasing smile grew more genuine as he nodded his head in response. "I- I've never been so happy in my entire life as I am right now, fighting a goddamn war, for heaven's sake–but I get to do it with you by my side, and I think I would be happy to do anything if I got to do it with you."

Alex raised their hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, and John took a moment to breathe. A melting-pot of emotions bubbled in his chest, too close to boiling over, considering he hadn't even gotten to the point yet–he had only just started, and already his throat closed up with tears.

He just loved that man so much, God; he was about to propose to a man, to his Alexander, and while he was fully aware that this was based on an in-joke they had taken too far, and it was in no way legally binding, it was overwhelming to think about.

If he had known this was where he would end up when he'd been thirteen, when he had still been confused, sad, lonely, lost Jack Laurens under the watchful eye of his father who didn't allow for any mistakes, anything that ventured past what he considered normal–perhaps he wouldn't have hated himself quite as much as he did back then.

John cleared his throat and blinked, steeling himself. He wouldn't cry just yet.

"From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were special. I knew I needed you in my life. I- I'd never been in love before, so I didn't- but that's what it was, I know that now. I've loved you from the moment you showed up at that pub with Burr and started yelling about revolution and abolition and finances, and- fuck." He freed one of his hands and scrubbed the back of it over his eyes, and Alex chuckled. It had a wet quality to it, and when he looked back up, Alex's eyes shone a bit brighter than they usually did.

"So, I, umm, I know this is sappy, but I feel like you complete me. You bring out the best in me, and I would like to think I bring out the best in you, too."

"You do," Alex said, softly like he didn't want to interrupt his line of thought. John itched to kiss him, but he held himself back.

"We just, we fit together. Everything about us fits perfectly, it's like we were meant for each other, and God, you just make me so happy, Alex. So, so happy. And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, I love you so much-" He stopped himself there, because John knew he would just ramble on about everything he loved about Alex if he let himself continue, and he did have an objective here.

Focus, Laurens, he thought and took a deep breath to centre himself.

"So, Alexander Hamilton, would you do me the honour-"

"Yes," Alex blurted out, and John couldn't help but laugh, the sizzling pot of emotions inside him a hair's breadth away from flowing over.

"You wanted a proper proposal, and now you can't even wait for me to finish asking the actual question?"

"Right, sorry," he said, a beautiful pink blush to his cheeks, and swallowed. "Do continue."

John smiled, softly, overcome with affection, with love and happiness. "Alexander Hamilton, will you marry me?"

"Yes," he said again, breathless, flushed with delight, tears in his eyes, and John finally dropped Alex's hands, pulled him close by his hips, and kissed him.

The pot toppled over and spilled his overcooked feelings everywhere, so he wasn't surprised when he felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

He brimmed with pure elation, not only because of Alex–mostly because of him, though–but also because from the moment John had realised what was wrong with him, that he would never be able to love a woman, he hadn't thought he would ever get to have this.

Little thirteen year old Jack had cried himself to sleep on more than one occasion, haunted by the knowledge his life would be filled with loneliness and heartache, that he would either die old and alone or would throw himself into an early but heroic death fighting in the next available war.

And now he held the man he loved in his arms, his dearest, his brilliant Alexander who'd agreed to marry him because he loved John just as much as John loved him.

"I love you, I love you, I love you so much-" Alex mumbled against his lips as he pulled away, cupped his cheeks and stroked the tears from his face, looked at him with open adoration, and John thought he had to be in heaven.

They stayed still for a beat, breaths mingling in the small space between their faces, before Alex let out a disbelieving little laugh, and John understood everything it carried as if Alex had spoken the actual words.

"I love you, John Laurens," he said, softer and more deliberate, and John pressed a kiss to his brow.

"I love you, Alexander Hamilton." He ducked down, kissed him again, and let out a long breath.

Enough sap, back to business. "So. When are we getting married?"

Alex groaned and swatted at his hip, but a smile stretched over his features when he pulled away, his arms still wrapped firmly around his back.

"You're impossible," he said.

"What? You've had your proposal, now I want my wedding."

Alex shook his head and traced his hands from his back over his ribs, forwards and up over his chest, and let them rest there, gently smoothing over his shirt.

"Where would we even get married?" he said, watching his fingers straighten out wrinkles.

"Right here?" he suggested, and Alex snapped his eyes up to his face, the outrage in them clear as day.

"A military tent? That's where you would want us to get married? That's not very romantic, is it?"

John snorted a laugh and covered the hands on his chest with his own. "I'm sorry, do you want me to find a field of wildflowers for you?"

Alex rolled his eyes, and an odd fondness bloomed in John's chest at the gesture. It was funny how something that could be taken as dismissive or mocking made his heart flutter when it came from Alex.

"No, I don't want a field of fucking wildflowers, I want some place not a dirty military-encampment." He paused, his eyes glazing over with thought, and a soft smile curled his lips. "Let's go down to the river."

"The river?" he repeated, and Alex nodded, looking so pleased with himself he couldn't help but agree immediately. "All right. Um, now?"

"Sure, it's a nice night, and I've never been too good at waiting, anyway, so we might as well." He shrugged his shoulders.

"So, no long engagement, then?"

Alex pursed his lips. "Technically, we've been engaged for… what? A couple of weeks at least, the engagement has been long enough. Come on, let's get hitched."

John shook his head and followed Alex out the tent, an indulgent smile on his face.

Let's get hitched.

So much for romance.

Alex was right, of course–the night was wonderful.

The heat of an early summer-day had faded with nightfall, and the air was warm, but bordered on cool when they had made it down to the river at the edge of camp and taken shelter behind the low-hanging branches of a weeping willow, hidden from prying eyes.

The river gurgled softly in the background, not an overwhelming rush, and the moon hung fat and full in the sky, nestled in between the bright little dots of stars that spilled across the firmament.

A night nice enough to get married on, John supposed.

Alex stood there with his hands fidgeting at his sides, and the moon was bright enough John could make out every small change of his expression as he struggled for words. Imagine that, he thought to himself, bemused. Alexander Hamilton, struggling for words.

"How do we- I mean, I don't know how to go about this. I haven't been to a lot of weddings in my time, but usually you'd have an officiant? And we can't-"

"Darling," he interrupted, voice gentle, because he could see Alex was just making himself nervous. "Don't think about it too much. This is just for us. We just… say our piece and decide we're married now. We don't need anyone to tell us what we are."

Alex nodded and visibly calmed himself, his eyes alight with resolve. "Yes, of course, you're right. No reason to get worked up, it's just us, like always," he said, letting the last part trail off into a mumble that was obviously meant for himself, and John was so smitten by his sweet little blush and his slight nerves, the prickle of happy tears was back behind his eyes.

How Alexander could be nervous about this, when they had done close to everything together, with each other, for each other, he didn't know, but it most certainly was endearing to watch him gather his thoughts like he didn't even do before talking to a general.

Alex preferred to shoot off at the mouth and see where it took him.

Here, down by the river on a clear night with John, he took his time.

"I know I'm not always as vocal about what I love about you as I ought to be," he began, and the comfortable silence fell, fluttering to the ground like a light curtain. John wanted to reassure him that he needn't be, that I love you was plenty enough for him, but Alex gave him a pointed look that told him not to interrupt.

"And I know… I know that, in a lot of ways, I don't deserve you." Alex stared down at his feet and worried his lip between his teeth in the short pause that followed after that nonsensical announcement, and John got as far as opening his mouth to tell him how stupid of a thing to say that was, before Alex shook his head.

"John, please," he said, quiet, and took a step closer, placed his hands over John's chest as he liked to do, and John slung his arms loosely around his back in turn. "You don't realise this about yourself, because you are too humble, or just because Henry Laurens' foul words are still lodged somewhere in there, but you… you are the full package." Alex glanced up from where his eyes had been locked to a spot between his hands, almost shyly as he looked up at him from beneath his thick lashes, and John swallowed, held him a little tighter.

"You are kind," he said, holding the eye-contact, and John's lips quirked into a smile of their own accord. "You have the most radiant smile," he continued and leaned up to press a soft kiss to the upturned corner of his mouth.

His cheeks grew hot with Alex's kind words, and he knew he was blushing, but he couldn't even be embarrassed about it–if Alex enjoyed making him blush only half as much as John enjoyed making Alex blush, he wouldn't deny him that small pleasure.

"And you are so genuinely sweet and considerate, I- you make me feel like the most important person in the world, just by looking at me like you do, by asking me how I am and if I'm all right, and- and, you are so patient with me. You don't push, you don't yell, you don't get frustrated with me when I work too much, or don't talk to you for too long, or forget to eat, or- or when I-" He gulped in a deep breath and blinked a few times in rapid succession, and John unwound one of his arms from Alex's back and laid his hand against his cheek instead to ground him.

He didn't need to hear all this. He knew Alex loved him, and that he appreciated everything he did for him, just as John appreciated everything Alex did–but it was important to Alex to lay it all out, he could tell.

John would listen and push back his tears, matching the ones in Alex's eyes, until he was done.

"When I wake up in the middle of the night screaming. When I cry and break down over things that are past, and you don't hurt me back when I lash out on a bad day. You… you stayed by my side through one of the worst experiences of my life, when lesser men would have turned their backs at the first sign of trouble. You ground me. You make the world stop hurdling along too fast, you help me regain my balance when I stumble, and you do it all with that goddamn, breathtakingly beautiful smile of yours."

"Alex," he said, hoarse, his voice stifled by too many emotions, but Alex shook his head and forced a smile, even as a few tears made their way down his face, pale in the moonlight, and put a finger to his lips.

"Shush, my love. I'm not done yet."

John conceded with a small smile and kissed the finger to his lips, rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of Alex's cheek and wiped away a tear or two.

"I love that you care so much about people, I love how you always stand up for yourself, that you are passionate and not afraid to show it, and I love your gentle soul and your warrior's heart. Yes, you can be hot-headed and impulsive and fail to think things through to the end sometimes, but I wouldn't have you any other way, and I love even that about you."

He slid his hands up from John's chest and cupped his face.

John stared back into his eyes, transfixed by their rawness, by the honesty and the bottomless well of feelings that seemed to have opened up in them, and he felt like he was drowning in him, in his Alex.

He bared his heart to him, his very soul, and he offered it to John, trusted him to nurture it, and love it, and protect it, and John would rather die before breaking that trust.

"What I'm saying," he went on, voice unsteady, and John had to focus all his will to keep from dissolving into ugly sobs. "is, I know I don't deserve you, John Laurens. Not yet, anyway. But I want to work on myself and become better until I am worthy of you."

John's shaky composure crumbled and fell apart.

"Fuck, Alex," he said, attempting in vain to stifle his cries somewhat as Alex too gave in and let the rest of his tears fall. "And here I was, thinking I didn't deserve you. We- we can work on us together."

Alex laughed, quiet and wet and breathy. "We have a whole lifetime," he said, and John felt faint with the mere idea–to have a whole life with Alex, every day for decades to come, it was like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

"A whole life," he said, voice weak, and sobbed.

"Until we're old and wrinkly," Alex added, with a smile so sweet John wanted nothing more than to taste it–but it wasn't time for that yet.

"Well, I don't, I really don't know what to say after all that, I mean-"

"Don't say anything," Alex interrupted with a small shake of his head. "You've unloaded enough sap on me for one day when you proposed to me fifteen minutes ago–I- I just wanted you to know how I feel about you."

John blinked, surprised. That feeling didn't last him long, though, because that was not at all unusual for Alex–too many nice words, and he drew back. "All right, then let's do this, darling. Time for the vows?"

Alex nodded and waited for him to continue, probably not sure about how they even went, not that John knew any better, but he would try.

"I, John Laurens, take you, Alexander Hamilton, to be my… well, unlawfully wedded husband," he paused as Alex snorted a laugh, and grinned at him, just overflowing with joy. Despite his tears, he had never felt so at peace as in this very moment, stood there with the love of his life in his arms, underneath the blanket of the night-sky, in the protective shadow of a willow that was better than any church.

"In sickness and in health," he said, because he knew that part, but anything after that was foggy at best in his mind. "Uh, through the good times and the bad. I swear to love and cherish you, till death do us part. I love you, Alex," he finished.

Alex drew a slow breath. "I, Alexander Hamilton, take you, John Laurens, to be my unlawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, through the good times and the bad," he repeated, expression softening until John almost forgot what it looked like when he frowned. "I swear to love and cherish you, till death do us part. I love you too, John."

John shot him a last smile, drunk with happiness, before he leaned down, his lips just a breath away from Alex's.

"May I kiss the groom?" he asked, and Alex answered by surging up to meet him in a dizzying kiss.

It was far from their first kiss–in fact, they had done so much more than just kiss, they knew each other's bodies like they knew their own, but still, the kiss felt different from the hundreds, if not thousands of kisses they had shared before.

It felt new. Like a beginning.

Like the silly little ceremony they had scraped together between the two of them, out underneath a tree, had bound them, had tethered their souls together and forged a connection that could never be severed.

They separated slowly, reluctantly, and Alex looked at him with such wonder that John knew he had to have felt that, too. Not long after, though, that wondrous expression morphed into one he was… very familiar with, his beautiful eyes dark, blown wide, half-lidded, and Alex grabbed his shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Are you ready to consummate?"

Was that even a question?

"I'm ready to consummate all night long, darling," he growled back, and Alex shivered with excitement.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, took his hand, and dragged him back in the direction of camp.

The early hours of the morning found them wrapped up in each other, Alex cuddled up to John's chest as John stroked a gentle hand through his damp hair, sweat cooling on their skin.

John was, without exaggeration, the happiest he had ever been. He was full–his heart was full with Alex, his scent was in his nose and clung to his skin, and he was at ease with his husband–his husband!–safe and sound and sated in his arms.

After they had remained like that for a while, until both of them had regained their breath, Alex raised himself up a bit, just enough so he could see John's face, and scattered little kisses all over it, nuzzled their noses together.

John hummed, content. "Adequate consummation?"

"More than adequate," he mumbled into his skin, tired and obviously strung out by their activities.

John allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk at that and stroked his hand up and down Alex's naked back. He floated on like that for a while longer, just indulging in post-orgasmic bliss, until an idea had his eyes snap open and his muscles tense in a way immediately noticed by Alex.

"Everything all right, love?"

"Don't worry, darling, just an idea. Let me up for a second?"

Alex pouted at him as he moved himself off his chest, and John swelled with affection, pressed a last sweet kiss to his lips before he got off the cot. He had to ignore Alex's eyes on his bare butt the entire way over to his pack with the few belongings he carried around with him during wartime and began ruffling through them.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked without turning around, and Alex snickered.

"Very much."

He found what he was looking for in a small compartment of his bag he had sewn in himself some time ago, a small, cloth-wrapped bundle, and he tucked it into his palm and made his way back to the cot and into Alex's open arms.

"What's that?" he said, softly, and trailed his fingers up and down John's chest when he had settled again, touches light and barely even there.

John peeled the cloth off and caught Alex's wandering hand, pressed a quick kiss to his fingers, and slid the ring in his hand on carefully, testing the fit as he went. Snug, not too tight–perfect.

Alex watched, eyes huge, and turned his hand so that the glow of the candle caught on the golden ring now on his finger.

"What- John?" he asked, clearly confused, and John chuckled.

He gave himself a moment to admire the way it fit Alex, how it looked on him, and an irrational surge of possessiveness washed over him. The ring said back off, it screamed mine, and John loved it.

But he shoved that aside. "It's an heirloom," he explained, smiling as Alex's eyes widened. "Belonged to my mother and went to me after her death, because I'm the oldest. I just thought you should have it."

"It was your mother's, I can't take this-" he began, high-pitched, but John just took his hand and twined their fingers together, focused on the brush of warm metal against his skin.

"I want you to take it. It's tradition–this is why I even got to have that ring in the first place."

He curled a hand around the back of Alex's neck and pulled him down for a gentle kiss before he could protest further.

"It's yours, darling. And you're mine."

Alex's features relaxed as he realised John wouldn't take it back no matter what he said, and he just kissed him again. "And you are mine."

"And I'm yours," he agreed, deciding that being Alex's trumped almost everything else he had ever considered himself to be.

Alex worked late the next night, which meant John did, too.

They had been alone with the general for perhaps half an hour before he noticed it.

Washington stopped next to where Alex sat and scrutinised his hand, now adorned by a simple golden band, and John watched the proceedings inconspicuously; there was a tight ball in the pit of his stomach all of a sudden, even though he knew it was stupid.

He had done nothing wrong, after all. Washington had given his blessing, he had no reason to feel like he had overstepped in some way.

"What's this, then, dearheart?" the general asked, halting Alex's quill gently to turn his hand over, and brushed a thumb over the ring.

Alex looked up at his father with a slight flush on his cheeks, and smiled, bright and dazzling.

"It's from John. We got married yesterday," he said, and the general arched his brows.

"Did you?"

"Yes! And do you know what that means?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me, my heart," he said, a slight smile to his lips that John had seen often enough to know it meant fond, a little tired exasperation.

"No more future," Alex said, grinning from ear to ear. "John has officially moved up to just son-in-law."

Washington's smile dropped and his gaze snapped to John, his eyes wide and unsettled, but it faded into worn out resignation when John smiled and gave a little wave.

"Lord, show me mercy," he said, and John couldn't help but laugh.