Hey Hey, new chapter.
I don't own.
Enjoy.
Winter at camp was a mess.
It was something Alexander had noticed again and again; in every camp he'd been stationed at since the war began. Without enemies to fight, the men grew restless.
There were more brawls and scuffles, more arguments, and with the usual shortages of food and space and privacy, well, it was a very unique environment.
But Alexander was thriving within it.
Well, thriving may not have been a fair word to use, but he was certainly managing far better than most.
He'd been raised in a community with limited food and space, raised in a place with high tensions every day of the week and hour of the day. Where many of the men, and most of the men he worked close to, were struggling with the lack of food, he was managing just fine. They all needed to stop complaining so much.
Hell, he'd snapped at both Lafayette and John at different times when they'd complained about the reduced meals, because they were still getting food every day thank you very much and life could be far far far worse than this.
But then, if he hadn't had that argument with John, he likely wouldn't have had the chance to become friends with Mrs Anna Strong.
He'd stormed out, taking a stack of papers with him that he needed to pass on to Ben, who was in his tent, not his office, because of course he was out in the cold rather than the warmth of the main house.
She, Brewster and Ben had been creating battle strategies and working on their spy ring and, paused in the doorway, he had mentally kicked himself for not realising that she was helping run the ring because it was so obvious once he knew. And some days it was frighteningly clear that she was the brains of the operation.
With hindsight, it was clear she was more than just a camp follower and apparently, that was not the only thing that was obvious, because she'd pulled him aside and asked discreetly but bluntly whether his being Washington's son was supposed to be a secret because with the way they behaved, the fake name wasn't doing much to fool anyone, at least in her opinion.
He traded their story for hers, for how she joined the ring and came to camp, not the one Ben had abbreviated, but the real one, the long, dramatic, painful one.
He had nothing but respect for what she'd done for their cause, and what she insisted on doing as they continued forwards.
And her work keeping things calm in camp, looking after the camp followers, looking after the interest of the men, working on other ways to get them food and keeping an eye and ear out for spies within the camp and camp followers the whole time.
Not to mention all the rumours of her cheating on her husband for Ben, not that he knew of them.
Alex had laughed when she'd explained it, doubled over and teared up, and she'd pleaded, also laughing, for him not to let Ben know, because his honour and cluelessness would only make things worse.
"He'd try to dismiss the rumours by telling people to stop talking about it. You know that would only make them worse."
"How can he be so smart in some areas and yet so naive? You grew up with him, you must know."
"I wish I had an answer, I do. He's... I don't understand. Maybe he just needs a wife, or at least, exposure to a woman that he hadn't known since he was a child."
She'd barely managed to finish the sentence, she was laughing so hard, and Alex's laughter only increased.
"Surely he has to have had someone. On, oh, Anna, please tell me there's some special sweetheart back in your town, please."
"Ugh, I wish. I think he'd be better for it. He's clueless. He's never been with anyone"
"He is religious, is it a til marriage thing?"
"It's an 'he's met every woman in the town and didn't like any of them' thing. And given he didn't change before and after Yale, I'm guessing nothing happened there either."
"Too busy studying and being awkward to meet anyone."
"You two talking about Beny's love life or lack thereof?"
They'd both whipped around at Caleb's voice, but he was grinning and had stories of his own.
It had been a very entertaining evening.
They'd met up several times over the next few days and become fast friends.
Alex had eventually asked what her husband thought of what she was doing, only to find out he didn't even know she was in camp and believed she was still serving back in Setauket.
Unlike most of the men in the camp, and probably the world, he didn't think there was much issue in his not knowing. His mother had been fine on her own, and if Mrs Strong was happy and willing to be here, he had no qualm with that. He knew well enough that women could do just fine on her own.
He supposed it was nice she had a husband willing to let her do her part for the cause, but it was sad that they weren't close or happy, that she was married to someone but she did not love him and wasn't certain she ever had. It was clear to see and sad because a woman willing do so much and sacrifice so much deserved more than a broken marriage.
He also felt for her, perhaps in a way most of the camp could not.
She'd fallen in love with Hewlett, the man who had been her mark, who she'd only befriended to get access to his information. She'd acted on his interest for their cause, but then she'd fallen for him too, something that plagued her. Not only did he feel for her struggle in how much she'd given up personally for their cause, but because he understood her.
She'd fallen in love with a British officer.
He'd fallen in love with a man.
Neither of them could be with the person they loved.
Not that he could tell her that.
But she was willing to give everything for America's freedom, her life, her home, her husband, her love, her reputation, her safety, all of it, all of it so they might win.
And he admired that greatly.
.
.
.
One of Alexander's favourite winter pastimes was eating a dinner with his father.
It was such a simple thing, but he wasn't sure there would ever be a day he didn't take pleasure in it.
He got to eat dinner with his father.
Just to sit and talk, just to be together and be loved.
It was something so common, so normal, but even after almost a year, it felt so novel.
He had a loving father.
He had loving parents.
He was more than willing to spare an hour of his day for that. For... for proof.
That's what it was.
Proof.
A simple show of affection.
A simple display that he was worth his father's time, that he was wanted.
He wondered if his father saw it in the same way, realised quite how much it meant to him? Did it mean the same to the Great General Washington?
He had the strangest feeling it did.
.
.
.
"You know what, Lexy, if I die, at least I won't be forced to marry. My betrothed can marry someone who deserves her, and I won't have to lie."
"Never say that, my dearest John. I can't bear to lose you."
"Oh, my sweet, you know what I mean."
Alex let his face fall back into the pillows, trying relax his shoulders again. John was somewhat absently massaging them, had been for a while, but Alex had stiffened at the random and morbid comment.
"I do not like to hear you speak of your life so carelessly. You're too reckless."
"Relax, my love, you know I would fight to live. Besides, you can't speak, you're just as bad as I."
He'd have flipped himself over to argue, all ideas of relaxation or affection to be abandoned, but John had him basically pinned to the bunk. He could escape if he really needed, but it wasn't worth the fight. He still wiggled as if he was going to.
Several kisses trailed there was from one shoulder to the other.
"You're just as bad as me, Lexy, always asking for a command, always trying to get into the fight, but what happens when you do?"
He shivered as his beloved pressed his lips to a small scar on his side, midway between his hips and shoulders. He'd been clipped by a shot while liberating some cannons from the British a few years past.
Fingers trailed up and down his back, feather-light touches mixed with kisses and he found himself relaxing once again under John's ministrations. He didn't mean to, he wanted to stay angry, but he was relaxing none the less.
As John's weight shifted upwards and his hands and lips returned to his shoulders, Alexander twisted, capturing John's lips with his own and drawing it out. John nipped his lower lip with his teeth and hummed into the kiss, weaving a hand through Alexanders hair and pressing him deeper into the kiss.
No matter how many times they kissed like that, it always left Alexander feeling giddy and needy.
And safe and loved and a million other things.
It made his mind stop, because all he could focus on was John's lips and body and the hand in his hair and for just a few seconds, nothing else mattered.
Tha hand in his hair pulled him out of the kiss, and he let his eyes flutter closed. The other hand ghosted across the scar under his shoulder.
"These happen. You get hurt. You're so reckless, you need someone watching you, keeping you out of trouble. I should keep you in this bed, safe and sound. Away from harm."
At that moment, Alexander couldn't disagree.
.
.
.
Alexander was ridiculously happy.
It was winter, the worst season, it was cold, which made his shoulder ache and his body slow, they were lower on food than they'd wanted to be, there were few rooms in the home they were staying in so he was sleeping in a tent, he should have been more miserable than ever.
But Aaron Burr was coming to camp.
He hadn't seen Aaron since the summer he'd come to his Father's camp, they'd been posted at different places the whole time.
He was so happy to see his oldest friend again.
The man was coming to camp because his unit had been stationed there for the Winter, and perhaps the year following unless it was decided they'd be more useful elsewhere. He was admittedly a little jealous of the command Aaron held, given they were the same rank but he got to fight, but not so much that he'd begrudge his friendship. He was glad for what Aaron had achieved.
As for his own chances at command, slim was an understatement.
It was a battle of wills of two of the most stubborn people on the planet, something that was apparently hereditary. And on that thought he realised Aaron was the only of his friends who did not yet know the truth of his parentage, something they were unwilling to ever put into letter form and risk falling to the enemy's grasp.
He'd been practically vibrating, waiting for the man to arrive, and as soon as he noticed him riding into the camp, he'd been out of his chair running for the door.
He had greatly missed his friend.
"Alexander, you look… well."
He hadn't even dismounted, but despite his normal reserved demeanour, there was a smile there, and concern too.
"I look like I just recovered from pneumonia."
He quipped back, hoping it would alleviate any concern he might have had. He still looked sickly, but he was fine, and Aaron had no reason to worry, but his greeting had been a question.
"Yes, but I didn't want to be rude."
"You never do. And I'm fine, recovering well. I've missed you, my friend, it's been too long."
"It has indeed."
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.
Please R+R.