The struggle to keep his eyes on the screen and from wandering to Laurens' butt, was a hard one. Hamilton sat at the kitchen table, a tall marble-topped island, and typed slowly on Laurens' laptop. It wasn't his fault that he was getting so distracted. How could it be? Laurens was standing scouring his photographs, tens of which were laid out on the counter, trying to organise them into what he felt would suit the layout of the publication best. He had his back to Hamilton and since he was sitting and Laurens was standing, it was impossible to ignore the fact that his ass was practically eye level. He let himself pause, his fingers hovering above the keys briefly, to allow himself one last glance. What a cute butt. Reluctantly, he sighed, about to turn back to his work.

Before he could advert his eyes, Laurens was facing him. One he'd realised what Hamilton had been transfixed by, he tutted, a small smile brightening his features. "You're supposed to be working."

"You're just. Enchanting."

Laurens had to cross the space between them, Hamilton saw in his eyes the fiery need to be closer, he himself felt it swirling in his gut. He pulled a chair towards him and straddled it as he had when they were showing the first signs of flirtation, in the studio. Mere days felt like weeks, but Hamilton could remember everything of Laurens' movements, words, and how they'd affected him then. Nothing had changed, he still felt a multitude of things when Laurens let their eyes meet.

He sat close to Hamilton, mere inches from him, letting his chin again fall into his crossed arms atop the spine of the chair, and titling it forward so his face was even closer. "Kiss me," he demanded, ever so quietly.

"What about work?" Hamilton joked back, but before Laurens had the chance to reply, he'd closed the space between their lips. They were so soft and full, and kissing Laurens, Hamilton was sure, had to be one of the most agreeable deeds that could be committed. It was Laurens who pulled away first, titling the chair back ever so slightly so that their lips were no longer touching, but they still felt each other's every breath. "Alexander-"

"You're the only person I'll allow call me that, you know. It's such a beautiful name when uttered by only you." Laurens' smile beamed back at him, toothy and crinkling up his face in the cutest way possible. Hamilton couldn't keep himself from kissing his nose.

"I'm glad. I like the way it sounds." He winked, to punctuate, and probably Hamilton thought, because he knew exactly how much it fucked him up. "Anyway I was going to ask...will you come with me to a protest on Saturday? Against modern-day slavery. In America, you know down in Florida on the tomato farms...there's so much of it, fuck I hate the way this country is sometimes. It's so backward..." His eyes flickered from Hamilton's, to the floor, his face clouding over into a tight scowl. When he regained his composure, he continued, "Its on in the commons, midtown, I think it starts at noon... you could stay over on Friday night or I could pick you up that morning?? I just really want to show you that part of my life."

"Laurens, I am of the perception that this means a hell of a lot to you. And you, you know, mean a hell of a lot to me. So of course I'll go I would love nothing more to spend my Saturday in your presence."

Instantly, Laurens was smiling again. "Yes, aw babe you can meet my friends, they're so great. They'll love you so much." Hamilton nodded, excitement growing and so many thoughts buzzing around like the swarm of bees that they were, inside his head. Laurens told him about Lafayette and Mulligan, how they'd inspired him and his work to become even more political.

Hamilton loved nothing more than to watch him talk about the affairs and people he was passionate about. He sat quietly, not even letting him mind wander to work, but entirely devoting his attention to the man who had caught his heart in such a stronghold. Every now and then, he'd reach over and tuck a stray curl behind Laurens' ear, or cup his chin and brush their lips together in a fleeting, light kiss, so as to avoid discouraging Laurens from talking -he didn't want to interrupt him by altogether making out with him. Laurens finally paused, and bit his bottom lip. "Burr will probably be there. I hope that's okay?"

It wasn't, not really, thinking about it made him minutely uncomfortable, but Hamilton knew that spending the day with Laurens would always effectively compensate for any shit that Burr caused. "It will be. I'm not afraid to punch him again if he comes after your character, though. Nobody fucks with my Laurens."

In return, he received a long kiss, Laurens smiling into it and reaching over to hold his face, letting his hands slip through his hair. "You're the best."

"Not at all."

It was 9PM when he finally summonsed up the courage to leave Laurens, though it broke his heart that he'd have to sleep in a cold bed again. There was such a massive part of him that wanted to do them right. Yes, he craved Laurens and his company and love, but he didn't want to rush their relationship. He knew this wasn't just a normal romance, this was probably it, Laurens had taken up most of the space in his heart and there was no way in hell that could be reverse now. Not that he would ever want it to be. So he went home, knowing that he'd see Laurens in the morning and he'd be able to spend tomorrow night with him. There was no other comparison he could put to it, other than feeling as though he were hooked on the strongest drug. His heart felt so soppy for this man. Oh, how much he was changing him.

Hamilton sat up all night, his desk lamp the only light source in his apartment, feverishly writing about Laurens, page after page. He couldn't stop, the words didn't seem to cease. Love was dictating not only every minute of his time, but every flick of his pen, every single letter he typed, it all echoed how he felt when he looked Laurens in those perfectly blue eyes, or when those freckles were all squashed up against each other as he smiled.

He called Jefferson at 5AM.

"I have something. A lot actually. Can you publish it?"

Half asleep, the voice on the other end grumbled, "Was it truly necessary to call me at this time? You're a pain, Hamilton. When will it be ready to be sent to the editors?"

"Right now, actually."

"And how many pages?"

"I don't know...I've written sixty tonight alone."

"Jesus. Christ, Hamilton get some sleep. I'll call the phone in the studio at some point tomorrow. Email it to me then. Understood??"

"Yes, thank you so much, sir. Really, you won't regret this."

"I am already," Jefferson mumbled before he hung up.

Leaving the desk light on, Hamilton threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining how Laurens' face would look when he read what he wrote. He couldn't stop smiling.