Laurens took his sweet time, what seemed like an eternity, to read the two pages. As Hamilton watched on, the bright eyes which he had come to adore so much grazed over the words he had written. Words which held so much weight, he swore they were an accurate floor plan to his head and heart. All the while, anxiety built up within and tightened his chest, causing him to down his first drink in one long swing.

"Well, okay, first of all," John Laurens cleared his throat, startling the already panicky Hamilton. Ever momentarily coy, Laurens just smiled for a drawn-out second, before letting out a quiet laugh. "You're so wound up...it's adorable. Your writing is really fucking good I can't believe you actually wrote this. And that it's... like ..about me?? I don't know what to say, Hamilton, this is definitely the greatest thing anyone's written me, and ..consider me wooed. As fuck." When this was met with no response, Laurens added, "Again, also really gay. I dig it. And you." With another, this time more nervous chuckle, he added, "I don't know what to say.. you have me tongue tied...help?"

Finally, Hamilton forced himself to speak, but he felt hardly in control of what was coming out of his mouth. There seemed to be nothing tying him down, he felt detached from the moment, like he was floating. To bring himself back down, he focused his eyes on the condensation racing down the side of the glass that sat in front of him. Anything but Laurens' eyes. He couldn't even breathe anymore when he looked into them. "So you aren't terrified away by my forwardness? Or accusations? You really do steal my heart, as you do my breath and ...sanity, more often than not.."

"Of course I'm not scared, Hamilton. You know I like you, and you've really fucked me up too, man." Hamilton directed his gaze back to Laurens, who was visibly blushing. "Ya. You really have. I don't know...how long have we known each other now? Two days? I can't stop thinking about you..." He looked down at the pages, "I'm glad that's mutual."

"As am I. My heart has never felt so aligned with another's.." Laurens' smile made his head spin. Or maybe it was the alcohol he'd consumed so quickly. The smile definitely played a part, though. "Do you want another drink?? You got my first, it's only chivalrous.."

"Sure. Be quick." Laurens winked as Hamilton stood and he swore, this man would be the death of him.

The area immediately around the bar had become crowded and boisterous, something Hamilton wasn't made aware of until in the midst of the massive mass of bodies. Being not an exceptionally tall person put him at a disadvantage, and was one of the most obvious reasons why he didn't notice Burr until he was pushed right up against him by a drunken patron.

"Sorry.." Burr muttered, then realisation dawned, "Hamilton!! Hey! What brings you to this side of town??"

"Burr," he gave a small nod in recognition, then sighed. "A date."

"Oooooh a date? Explains the rush earlier..."

Fuck my life, Hamilton thought. This was just his luck. "With who?" Burrs eyes seemed challenging, he must have assumed Hamilton would lie to avoid conflict. Which was absurd because Hamilton was generally always at the forefront of conflicts. Generally. This wasn't really conflict. Just awkward. And he hated it.

"John Laurens."

Burr just stared for a second. "What are you drinking?"

"A Sam Adams..."

"And Laurens?" Confusion must have flashed across Hamilton's face, because Burr rolled his eyes and added, "I mightn't like him. At all. I might despise him. But you're a friend, however you may feel towards the use of the word, and I'll buy my friend AND his date a drink."

"Are you drunk, Burr."

"Maybe."

"Okay. Good. I was getting worried for a second.." Hamilton was only half-joking, and he knew the same was true for Burr.

Once Burr handed Hamilton the two bottles and Hamilton thanked him, quite awkwardly, they parted ways.

"God."

Laurens shot him a perplexed look once he sat down, with a loud groan. "Burr was at the bar. He bought our drinks. I'm assuming that he's drunk, and he said as much but..."

"Wait. What?? Burr's here? That ass better not crash this date I swear..."

Hamilton grinned, "He won't, don't worry."

Laurens gave him a toothy smile in return. "Good. Missed you. You took so long.."

What an adorable fuck, Hamilton almost forgave him for butchering his heart every time he smiled. He would have happily sat and just stared at those lips for the night, but he did want delve into serious and personal conversation with Laurens. All their conversations previously had been either steeped in work-related inquires, interrupted by phone calls or other responsibilities to be tended to. He wanted to take this opportunity to actually get to know Laurens.

"Sorry, the crowd's intense... so, Laurens. Let's talk."

And get to know him he did. While he watched the man who resided so predominantly in his heart reminisce, laugh, slip into moments of quiet as he recalled a more somber moment of his life, he couldn't shake the urge to close the space between them. He wanted nothing more than to be closer, for Laurens to whisper all these parts of him and his past into his ear, his lips and breath touching Hamilton's skin with every word. The feeling of needing something so detailed and definite was like an itch, which Hamilton only seemed to be able to keep at bay with the regular consumption of alcohol.

Laurens told him about his family, how they moved from poverty and raised him as best they could. They'd made a new life in New York, and had opened a really successful aquatic pet store in Brooklyn, which is where Laurens' love for marine life took root. He'd had a very short stint shooting photographs for National Geographic, but it was too competitive a company, he'd explained, and he was home sick for New York. Once he'd arrived back he'd thrown himself into activism and used his medium to document protests and political matters. Hamilton explained how his parents had died when he was young, leaving him with a fortune and a drug-addicted brother who squandered the aforementioned fortune. By the time Hamilton began to talk about his writing and political stances, the room had begun to spin around him, and his words came out much sloppier than intended. Only five drinks in. He was becoming a lightweight. Or maybe intoxication just seemed to be sped up around Laurens, he was additionally getting drunk from every word his love spoke.

The room was spinning so it was fair enough that Hamilton though himself to be imagining it when Burr unsteadily sauntered over, himself quite parallel to Hamilton in state of drunkenness.

Vaguely, he remembered Burr shit-talking Laurens on abysmal scales. This memory a blur of fury. Another blur, as if someone had actually touched the memory and smudged it, and he was standing, on legs that felt like stilts. In an instance Burr was on the ground, and Hamilton was staring down at his bruised knuckles, tiny droplets of blood starting to swell but never fall, they defied gravity and he seemed to too. How was he still standing when his entire world felt like a hurricane? It only slowed and started to clarify when he felt Laurens' hands around him, pulling him away from the scene, and out the side-door of the bar. He couldn't hear what he was saying, his alcohol-stained memory blurred words and fuzzed even Laurens' beautiful features. The next clear memory was of Laurens returning, he must've gone back inside, with a glass of water. Hamilton was sitting in the gutter, he knew himself he was swerving in and out of consciousness. How had he possibly gotten this drunk??? There was another blank spot in his memory, and then something much clearer;

In the back of what was probably an Uber, he stirred back into consciousness on Laurens' shoulder.

"Hey," Laurens whispered, and Hamilton sat back just enough that he could see his face. Still drunk and not totally with it, Hamilton smiled back at him.

"I'm drunk."

Laurens laughed, threw his head back. "Yes, you are."

"Where are we? What did I do? Burr? My hands.."

"You punched him," to his surprise, the smile didn't fall from Laurens' face, "because he was talking shit about me, you punched Burr. It was a good hit, he fell. And he's, like what?? Two? Three inches taller than you? It was really cute. But also, not. Because we probably won't be allowed back there, ever. And we're in an Uber-"

"Of course."

"-On the way to my apartment. I didn't know your address and there's no way I was letting you cycle back in that state. Though you wanted to."

"D-did I ruin? It?"

"What?" Laurens' smile fell, giving way for a small, worried frown. "Ruin what?"

"The dattttte."

"No. No. We shouldn't have drank so much, but I really enjoyed it. And I don't mind taking care of you when you're drunk, you're cute as fuck."

"You're...fuck...cute.." Hamilton babbled, sleepiness starting to blur things again.

"Shh, baby. I got you." Laurens cooed, stroking his hair. He fell asleep like that, at least momentarily, and with Laurens stroking his hair and the alcohol still burning a riot in his stomach, he felt so content in that moment, even if he was about to pass out, again, drunk, in the back of an Uber. Laurens was stroking his hair, talking to him. Content...