James' eye was twitching uncontrollably. He missed the bus. The bus was big. The bus had elbow room. The bus meant that he didn't have to listen to when Alex and Thomas got bored and started bitching at each other for no reason. He doesn't even know what they're fighting about. He doesn't even care. He just wants peace.
"Well, if you're done being wrong, I actually have a degree that proves that I know more about this than you do."
"HA! Like that shitty piece of paper means anything now. I got one, too, if you forgot, and-"
"Oh my god, will you two just shut up for five minutes?!" James snapped. He rubbed at his temples and growled, "You're tired, thirsty, annoyed, and you hate each other, I get it!"
"And hungry." Alex added, carefully holding a hand onto the wheel to keep them going straight as James seemed a little distracted.
"That goes without saying, Hamilton, we're all hungry." Jefferson snapped.
Alex rolled his eyes, "I just wanted to make sure the entirety of the situation was clear."
"It was plenty clear before you-"
"STOP!" James interrupted them, slamming his hands down on the wheel. The truck swerved a little, which only made Alex bump into Jefferson's side a bit too hard. They both winced. "Why do you feel the need to fight like cats and dogs?! You're actually really similar, you have a lot in common!"
Alex scoffed and crossed his arms, "Oh yeah? Like what?"
"I don't have anything in common with this simpleton." Jefferson said, putting his hands on his hips, which looked kinda funny since he's sitting down.
James stared at them, clearly seeing something they weren't. Finally, he sighed, looked back to the empty road, and said, "Okay, um, you have similar interests. History, politics..."
"Yeah, but we disagree on everything." Alex said, shooting Jefferson a glare.
James rubbed his temple with one hand, "Okay, what about… Musical theater? You both like broadway."
Alex wasn't expecting that. He glanced at Jefferson, slowly uncrossing his arms. The other man appeared just as surprised. Alex awkwardly cleared his throat and said, "Uh, what's your favorite musical?"
Jefferson hesitated, and then said, "Les Miserables."
Alex licked his lips and nodded. He shifted in his seat and mumbled, "That's a good one. Classic."
"Yeah. Um. What about you?" Jefferson asked, glancing to the side, out the window.
"I don't know. I like a lot… probably Falsettos? Or Wicked? Some of the new stuff was good, too." Alex scratched the back of his neck. "I liked that one with Ben Platt."
"Dear Evan Hansen?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. That was good, too."
There was a silence as Alex snuck a peek at Jefferson's face. The man was contemplative, frowning a bit, and not looking at him. He didn't know why he felt weirdly awkward all of a sudden. It should be nice, exciting even, to know that they had something in common. They had something that they could talk about and maybe agree on. But instead, Alex just felt nervous.
What if Jefferson didn't like the same musicals as him? Was he just a casual fan? Or did he get into musicals as intensely as Alex did? Would he understand if Alex confided in him about how much he related to certain characters? How much he adored specific songs and lyrics?
Alex shook his head, mentally chastising himself. Why should he care what Jefferson thought about his musical opinions? If they fought, they fought. That's what they do.
"What is happening right now?" James asked, clearly feeling the strange tension in the air. He hadn't expected them to get all quiet and uncomfortable. Honestly, he was prepared to listen to them bicker about bootlegs or something.
Jefferson cleared his throat and the strange atmosphere dissipated as he said, "It's getting dark outside. You've been driving all day. Do you need a break?"
"Yeah, kinda. I got a headache right here." James admitted, gesturing to between his eyes.
Jefferson nodded and said, "Let Hamilton take over."
"Don't volunteer me." Alex rolled his eyes, "Why don't you do it?"
"Uh, I don't drive." Jefferson ran his hands down his thighs, a nervous habit, Alex realized.
"What? You always got chauffeurs to take you everywhere?" Alex scoffed. "I'm sure your nails won't break if you-"
"Hamilton, would you be willing to drive, please?" James asked, cutting him off. And while he was clearly trying to sound polite, there was an intensity to his tone.
Alex shook his head, annoyed, "No, I'm not going to! We've both driven this entire time, Lee too. I haven't seen Jefferson do anything but sit around and sleep."
"Excuse you?! I do a lot of the heavy lifting around here, who else is going to grab supplies and shoot zombies?" Jefferson snapped, "You? That'd be a pleasant surprise."
"I meant while we're in a car, dumbass." Alex hissed. "That was obvious, to anyone with common sense."
James slammed on the brakes so hard that Alex almost hit his head on the dashboard. Once he regained his breath - sharp gasps and a seatbelt smashed into the tummy didn't help the whole binder situation - Alex looked ahead of them to see if there was another pregnant couple that wanted to steal their truck or something. The road was empty, and Alex couldn't figure out why James would stop the truck for no reason. Until he looked at the man's face. James
"Fine! We'll just sleep here for tonight." James huffed.
Jefferson shook his head, saying, "James, no, we should keep moving-"
"Are you going to drive?" James interrupted him. Jefferson froze, his face going a bit pale. James clearly took that as a 'no', and looked to Alex, "Are you?"
Stubbornly, Alex shook his head. He wasn't going to let Jefferson get away with this laziness. It wasn't fair to the rest of the team.
"Then this is our camp for tonight." James almost growled. He opened the door and climbed out. Jefferson scrambled to follow, leaving Alex alone in the truck. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.
He almost had whiplash from how intensely things change for them. From arguing to weirdly kind of civil to fighting again in the span of five minutes. It had to be the frustrations of the situation, right? If they had some food, water, rest, and, oh yeah, no zombies chasing them down, things would be a lot less tense. He hopes.
Alex sighed and took a minute to observe their surroundings. They were on some highway, headed north, as usual. To their left was the beginnings of some small woods. Trees grew tall, perhaps as an attempt to absorb the CO2 from the cars that once ran up and down these roads. Or maybe they were here first, and humans tore them down, ripped them up, to plant their own cement seeds. To their right, just off the side of the road, was some farmland. Alex couldn't see where the farmer's house was. He thinks cabbages or maybe cucumbers were grown here. He can't tell for sure though from this distance. Jefferson would probably know. He supposes it doesn't matter, anyway. The frost was no doubt going to kill all the crops in just a few weeks. Alex wondered if he'd have the same fate.
Speaking of cold; the sun was working its way down the sky. It'd be night soon, and Alex knew that they'd have to make sleeping arrangements. He finally climbed out of the truck, joining James and Jefferson at the back. They had popped open the trunk and were shifting through the supplies.
"What's up?" Alex asked as he leaned against the side of the vehicle.
"We're trying to find one of the fire starting kits." James informed him. "It's going to be cold at night and we don't have enough room in the truck for everyone."
"Won't a fire attract zombies?" Alex asked, resting his head against the truck bed cover.
Jefferson replied by gesturing to their surroundings, "We're not exactly in the middle of Manhattan, I think we can risk it."
Alex obnoxiously mimicked him, scrunching up his face and saying in a high voice, "I think we can risk it."
Jefferson glared at him and opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when James cleared his throat and shot him a dirty look. The man sighed and finally pulled a plastic box out from the back of the truck.
"Found one."
James found a spot on the side of the road that he deemed good enough for a fire. It was a weird mix of dirt and broken cement that faded into grass, just big enough for a makeshift fireplace. Alex was concerned that the fire would spread onto the grass and create some huge forest fire in the field, but the other two assured him it'd be fine.
Alex watched as Jefferson hopped over the lane line and walked across the rest of the highway to the woods. He was on stick-finding duty. James, meanwhile, pried open the fire starting kit to see their supplies. It appeared as if the kits - or this brand of them - came with matches, a lighter, some kind of flammable oil, some metal nail file thingies, something that looked like lint, and something that looked like marshmallows. It was nice of them to provide for s'mores. Clearly, Alex knew what was going on.
James seemed about as lost as him, he picked up the lighter and matches, but then ignored the rest of the supplies. The two waited for Jefferson to return.
"What was up with that musical thing?" James asked after a moment of silence. "Y'all started acting weird."
"I dunno." Alex shrugged, he didn't honestly know the answer to that question. "It was just … unexpected? I didn't know what to talk about."
"Now that's unexpected." James said, looking out at the woods. They could see Jefferson bend down every once and awhile to pick something up. "I remember you'd come into the office and not stop talking about a new musical for weeks. Thomas, too. It's one of the things that he's super passionate about. I'm surprised neither of you brought it up before this."
Alex kicked at the gravel a little. "It's just kinda weird to think that we're … similar. Like-minded. That's not normal."
"You've only known each other for, like, a month. Maybe less? I don't know anymore." James looked to Alex in question, who shrugged. "Either way. I don't think you've known each other long enough, or deeply enough, to figure out what's 'normal' yet."
Alex shrugged again, and then nodded, "I guess. I don't know. Maybe we'll talk about it again later without all that … whatever that was."
"Thomas is a pretty awkward individual. I kind of expected something like this happening sooner or later. I just didn't think you'd be equally awkward." James said with a smile.
"HEY!" Alex huffed, crossing his arms.
James chuckled and tapped his own forehead, "Shh, headache, remember?"
"Uh-huh. Sure."
Alex waited until Jefferson walked back to the median before he started to help. They handed off the wood and Alex hauled it over to James as Jefferson climbed back over the little cement wall.
"Tom, how do you make a fire?" James asked, a little sheepishly.
"You forgot?" Jefferson replied, clearly teasing. The man ruffled James' hair and took the lighter from him. He squatted down and observed the fire kit.
James shrugged and sat down on the side of the road, "It's been years since we last went camping. You can't blame me."
"And yet, I still do." Jefferson said, picking up one of the marshmallow looking things.
"Shut up." James laughed.
Alex watched as Jefferson set the marshmallow back down and picked up the lint. He was working quickly, putting the lint on the ground in a circle. He ripped some grass up from beside them and added that in with it. Alex sat down on the other side of him and glanced from James to Jefferson. Neither of them were speaking as Jefferson worked, and James didn't seem to be lost in the slightest. Alex was.
He spoke up, knowing that he'd have to learn how to do this, "What're you doing?"
"Building a fire." Jefferson replied without looking up.
"Yes, but how?"
Jefferson glanced at him, pausing in his movements.
Alex clarified, "Why're you doing that? Instead of just using the lighter to lite these branches?"
Jefferson pursed his lips and said after a second, "Well, the branches might not catch, if it's just a little ol' lighter trying to lite it. And, if we want to actually have a safe and contained fire, then it needs to be in a little fire place."
"And you're making one?" Alex looked down at the little circle in the dirt. The grass and the lint didn't look much like a fireplace to him.
"Yeah. Gimme a second, and you'll see." Jefferson said, as he started picking up tiny twigs from his wood pile. "This is the smallest part of the fire. You gotta build it first if you want any wood to catch."
Alex watched as he added little twigs in the center in a criss cross motion. A marshmallow was put in the center. Then, Jefferson grabbed small sticks and started building a tiny teepee with them. Alex watched as a little tiny home was built for the marshmallow, with a cozy grass, lint, and twig bed; and windows on all sides. It was lovely, really.
"What's that?" Alex pointed to the marshmallow.
Jefferson spoke as he worked on the teepee. "That's a fuel tab. I forget what it's made of. Chemicals, probably. But it's just a really flammable cube."
That still sounds like a marshmallow to Alex.
The home is complete. Jefferson gestured to his little teepee and said, "Now, we can light it. Then we can build an even bigger base around it."
Jefferson took the lighter back from James and carefully flicked it on. Alex frowned a little as the marshmallow burst into flames. The bed caught quickly after, burning the marshmallow's little tooshie. The fire spread; the walls caught next, the escape route was blocked by smoke. There was no way out. Disaster for the little marshmallow. Rip in peace.
"...ut I like the box method." Jefferson was saying. Alex snapped back to the present, forcing himself to pay attention to Jefferson's lesson. The man was carefully building walls around the teepee with sticks and branches. Once a square was successfully built, Jefferson started making a roof on top with more wood.
A cube of flames was formed.
Alex had to admit, he was pretty impressed. The fire was incredibly hot - duh - but it didn't seem super dangerous, since it was contained in the little box Jefferson made. He wasn't sure if he could make a fire like this on his own. His fire would probably die after a few minutes, and would be incredibly unsafe. His gaze turned away from the fire and to the man in question, who was laughing at something James said. Alex wasn't exactly sure why he stared at the other man for so long, his mind simultaneously blank and racing. This arrogant southerner was full of surprises, wasn't he?
They had a quick discussion about their dinner plans.
"Do we have anything to eat?"
"We can heat up one of these cans of beans."
"Anything to drink?"
"Well, Gatorade, but we'd have to share one."
"We have enough for each of us to have one."
"We have to ration it."
"But I'm so thirsty!"
"We're all thirsty."
"So we should all have our own!"
"No, Hamilton."
"Fine."
And then heated up and ate said dinner. Alex was sitting across from the other two, with the fire between them. They had found random boxes and totes from their supplies for them to sit on. Alex watched as Jefferson rested his head on James' shoulder while they ate. Even when Jefferson sat up, the two were still sitting pretty close; shoulders brushing, knees bumping, on occasion, hands touching. Alex couldn't help but observe it. The physical closeness the two had was somewhat strange, but Alex found himself longing for it. Not with them, but for his wife. Eliza and he would no doubt be sitting in each other's laps, turning to whisper in each other's ears, cheeks brushing, hands resting on knees…
Alex bit the inside of his cheek and tried to push down the pain. His wife was gone. He was alone. That's all there was to it.
After a while, James stood up, announcing that they should figure out their sleeping plans. "I was thinking two of us could sleep in the truck, while the other keep guard. We could switch off every four hours or so."
"Who's on first?" Jefferson asked, stretching his hands over his head, letting out a soft groan.
James started his usual reply, "What's on-"
"Why do you guys always say that?" Alex interrupted.
The two men turned to look at him, a bit surprised. Jefferson spoke after a second, "Say what?"
Alex gestured to them, "You know. 'Who's on first?' and 'What's on second.' What is that?"
Jefferson stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide. Finally, he mumbled, "An inside joke."
James smiled and shook his head, "It's a comedy act. Abbott and Costello. Thomas and I had performed it together multiple times."
Alex sat up straight, interested. He smiled as he asked, "You guys do comedy?"
James chuckled and shook his head, "No, no. Not me, at least. See, Thomas," the man in question had his arms crossed and was looking down at his feet, "wanted to be an actor all growing up. And I was his only friend, so I was stuck reading lines for him and playing along. 'Who's on First' is the first skit we ever got down perfectly."
Alex chewed his lip, trying to hide back his excitement. He absolutely loved watching actors do their thing. And they all needed a good laugh lately. "Will - will you perform it for me?"
Jefferson shook his head, waving him off, "No, it's been way too long, I'm sure I don't even remember the lines."
"Oh." Alex pouted, trying to ignore the way his heart sunk a little in disappointment. He prodded the fire with a chard stick, resting his chin in his hand.
James sighed, a strange mixture of fondness and annoyance crossing his face. He looked around for a moment, before picking up a stick about the size of his arm. He held it loosely before swinging it twice in the air, like a bat.
"Now." He said, "The first thing you need to know is that baseball players have very strange nicknames."
Thomas tensed, turning to look at his friend, "Don't you do this to me."
James continued, completely unfazed by his friend. "So if you wanna be a part of the team, you gotta learn their names, see?"
"James Madison Jr." Thomas warned. Alex grinned, sitting up straight again, he watched with excited anticipation as James swung his bat-stick again.
"On the Saint Louis team we got -"
"Don't you dare."
"Who's on first, What's on second, and I Don't Know's on third and-"
Thomas stood up, placing his hands on his hips, "That's what I wanna find out, I wanna find out the names of the fellas on the Saint Louis team."
James grinned, knowing full-well that Thomas was in the zone. "I'm tellin' ya now. Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know's on third."
"You know the fellas names?"
"Yes."
"Then who's on first base?"
"Yes."
"I mean the fella's name on first base."
"Who."
"The fella playin' first base for Saint Louis."
"Who!"
"The guy on first base!"
"Who is on first!"
"What're'ya askin' me for?!"
They continued the bit, and Alex found himself cackling throughout it. His cheeks hurt from smiling wildly at Jefferson and James acting out such a bizarre conversation. For the first time in a little while, Alex felt completely at ease, just listening to the two men pretend to bicker. He leaned back, taking a moment to catch his breath. A wide smile spread across his face, and it was in that moment that Jefferson decided to look at him.
Alex watched as something strange happened. Just as their eyes locked, Jefferson's eyes widened slightly, his lips parted and his cheeks seemed dark in the low light. Maybe it was the fire projecting the best possible lighting on him, but Alex found himself mesmerized by the picture before him. His own smile fell into something softer, something he couldn't quite control.
James repeated his line after a moment of silence, and Jefferson quickly stuttered out his response. His face grew red as he forced himself to turn more towards James, tearing his gaze off of Alexander.
"And that's the joke." James said finally as he sat down on his spot around the fire.
Alex chewed his lip, wondering why Jefferson couldn't possibly look him in the eye after some silly baseball joke. He shook the strange feeling off and asked, "So, can I be a part of it?"
"What do you mean?" James asked, a bit surprised. "There's only two roles."
"No, I mean, you always ask 'who's on first'," Alex nodded to Jefferson, "You always reply with 'what's on second', but can I say the third base part?"
Jefferson scowled, shaking his head, "Absolutely not."
James laughed, nudging his friend gently, "Hey, come on. Let him be a part of the group. You don't own the skit."
Alex found himself staring into Jefferson's eyes once again, the fire dancing between them, enhancing the sparks in his eyes. Alex swallowed as a strange expression crossed Jefferson's face. He chewed on his lip before muttering a quiet, "Yeah. Fine."
Alex's face lit up into a bright grin, although he wasn't exactly sure why he was so happy about Jefferson's acceptance. "Awesome! So, what do I say? Who's the third basemen?"
"I Don't Know." Jefferson replied.
"How do you not know the name? You just did the entire skit about him." Alex asked, frowning.
"No, his name is-" Jefferson paused, looking up to see Alex grin at him. His tension washed away as he let out a soft chuckle. He shook his head, smiling. "Yeah, you got it."
James watched them, a subtle smile spread across his lips. Finally, he stood up and brushed off his pants. "Well, if you don't mind, I was hoping to take first nap tonight. I was going to suggest Thomas stand watch first, me second, and Alex third, but I suppose it's up for discussion."
"No, I can do that." Jefferson waved him off, "Go get your beauty sleep."
James looked to Alex, who just nodded and shrugged. He didn't care when he was supposed to watch, his chances of getting any good sleep were pretty low anyway. James nodded and set his watch to go off when it was his turn to watch over the others.
"Hey." Jefferson grabbed James' hand before he could walk shuffle off to find a comfortable sleeping spot. James looked down at him, curious. Jefferson tapped his cheek, "Goodnight kiss?"
James scoffed and swatted at Jefferson's head playfully. Jefferson laughed and relented, allowing the other man to settle down a few feet away, inside the truck. Alex felt something twist in his chest at the exchange, but he wasn't really sure what it was. Maybe he was just tired and his body was trying to tell him to go to sleep. But he didn't really feel like sleeping right then. He had too much on his mind.
The two men sat in silence, staring into the fire and glancing around at the dark surroundings. For a while, no one spoke. Alex looked up to the sky, there wasn't a cloud in sight. The stars were a rare sight for this New Yorker, but with no lights, and therefore no light pollution, they were breathtaking. Alex looked back to Jefferson to inform him about the beauty above them, but the words died in his throat when he made eye contact with the other man. Jefferson was watching him watch the stars. Not for the first time, Alex wondered what he could be thinking about. Jefferson glanced away, shifting in his seat.
"So, uh," Alex broke the silence, feeling his cheeks heat up for some unknown reason. "You wanted to be an actor as a kid?"
Jefferson didn't reply. He picked up a stick and poked at the fire, his expression clearly guarded. Alex huffed in annoyance, but tried to stay civil. He tried a different tactic. Instead of interviewing Jefferson, he'd instead offer something up about himself. That's how conversations worked, right?
"I wanted to be an author when I was younger. I kind of am, but not in the way I expected." Alex said, looking down at the flames. The heat of them burned his eyes, but in a pleasant kind of way. He always liked camp fires. Eliza and him would build them when they went to visit her father's estate. They had a fire pit in the back, and the kids would always beg them to make s'mores. Eliza was usually in charge of making the fire, she was much better at this kind of thing than him. A sad smile spread across Alex's face at the memory. He sighed before he remembered what he was saying. "Uh - I wanted to write novels for a living. Instead I write speeches and legislation. In the end, I guess it's the same. Writing is writing no matter what medium."
It was quiet for a moment. Alex wasn't expected Jefferson to respond, and he was now lost in his own mind, thinking about his wife and kids and marshmallows and chocolate. When Jefferson spoke up, Alex's gaze snapped up to watch him.
"I had too many ambitions as a kid." Jefferson said quietly. "I wanted to be everything under the sun. Botanist, actor, musician, inventor, linguist, author, politician…"
"So what made you pick historian?" Alex asked, leaning forward.
Jefferson shrugged, "I don't know. I like history. In college, I was on track to be a politician, but I, uh, quit that."
"Why?" Alex rested his chin in his hand, curious.
Jefferson chewed his lower lip, unable to make eye contact. He took a deep breath and admitted softly, "I have horrible stage fright."
That wasn't the answer Alex was expecting. He raised an eyebrow and watched as Jefferson slowly revealed more and more about himself.
"I knew if I was a politician, I'd have to give speeches in front of crowds, on camera, and I just-" He swallowed hard. Alex watched as he licked his lips and shook his head, "I couldn't do it. So I just … changed my major."
"Is that why you didn't become an actor or musician, either?" Alex asked.
"Yeah." Jefferson admitted quietly. "Then it was between botanist, linguist, author, and historian. I was kind of all of them for a while. My family's got a farm, I work on it every once and awhile. But that wasn't mine, you know? I wanted to be my own man, not just another Jefferson. I had a big family. And my college ran out of languages for me to learn. I started to study them on my own, which is fine, but that doesn't get you a degree in it. I've written some things that've gotten published; essays and historical papers. I guess that means I'm an author. So I went the history route. Got my doctorate. Worked as a professor…"
Alex sat up straight, his eyebrows furrowing, "But, that involves talking in front of crowds. My history class was a huge lecture hall with, like, two hundred students."
Jefferson laughed a little. Well, it wasn't really a laugh, per say. It was something soft, quick, but light. The sound of it made Alex want to laugh, too. Jefferson smiles and glances over at the truck, parked beside them. "So. I was a bit of a bad boy."
"Oh?" Alex asked, already grinning.
"Yeah, a real rebel." Jefferson said, humor sparkling in his eyes. "Everytime I had a large lecture, I would, uh, take a hit before class."
"A hit…" Alex's eyes widened as he realized, "Oh my god! You're a pothead!"
Jefferson did laugh that time. He snorted and hid his face in his hands. He was grinning when he looked up and said, "It was all that helped! I tried to drink, but then I'd forget what the lecture was about. And I couldn't do it on my own! So I just, ya know."
Alex cackled, finding great joy in the idea of Jefferson smoking a quick one in the teacher's bathroom before he had to go and talk about history for an hour.
"Alright, it ain't that funny." Jefferson said, but he was still smiling.
"Sorry, it's just…" Alex shook his head a little, "You don't seem like the shy type. This entire time you've been all" Alex waved his hand in the general direction of the other man, "macho and confident and proud and brave."
Jefferson looked away, the flames of the fire did something weird to his face then. Alex thought the shadows made it look like Jefferson was blushing. "I told ya I was an actor."
"No one can act that well, all the time." Alex said, shaking his head.
"It's not too hard." Jefferson said, "It's all smoke an' mirrors. It's kinda like lying. Lying isn't hard. Or keeping a secret. Have you ever had a big secret that you kept from people for a long time? And it just becomes natural to do what it takes to keep people from knowing?"
Alex's face was carefully blank, meticulously casual, as he said, "No, not really. But I think I get what you mean."
Jefferson shrugged and continued, "Yeah. So that's what it's like for me, I guess. I always put up this confident facade in front of my students and coworkers. No one knew I was terrified."
"I get that." Alex said quietly. Jefferson looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. Alex bit his lip and clarified, "For a long time, I wasn't really sure if I was even, you know, good at being a politician. I was just… loud. I mean, logically, I know I'm good. I went to school for this, I've been studying this my whole life, basically. But there's this voice in my head that's telling me that I'm not doing good enough. That I have to do better, be better, and no matter how hard I try, it's never satisfied."
"That's called anxiety, Hamilton." Jefferson said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's, uh, it's not a fun one."
"Yeah." Alex agreed quietly. "Well, I didn't want my coworkers to think I was doubtful or worried or anything. So I was the arrogant, annoying teacher's pet. I knew that people hated me, because of it. But it was the role I was given, you know? So, yeah. I kinda get what you're talking about. Only, I don't think I was near as good at hiding it as you."
Jefferson stared at him for a long moment. He didn't say anything, just watched him.
Alex offered him a closed-mouth smile, "I'm kind of a wreck."
That got Jefferson to snort. He grinned and said, "Yeah, I got that much."
"How dare."
"I'm just agreeing with you!"
"I didn't ask for your agreement!"
"Well, ya got it anyway. Don't get used to it."
"Oh, fuck off."
They continued in this way, bantering back and forth, until James crawled out of the truck, ready for his turn to keep watch. He stared at both of them, smiling and joking, surprised. When he commented that Alex should've gone to bed a long time ago, the immigrant blushed and scrambled up.
"James's right. I should, uh, I'll just-" Alex almost tripped when he walked backwards to the truck. He caught himself, his face darkening even more. Jesus, what was wrong with him today? He muttered, "Wake me when it's my turn."
As he disappeared into the truck, he heard James comment to Jefferson, "What's goin' on with you two today? Anything I should know?"
He didn't hear Jefferson's reply, but he could hear James' laugh in response.
Tell me what you think!