A/N I hope I didn't lay his grief on too thick, I was trying not to but Ham is sad. Also, there's kissing (multiple types) but no porn. I, personally, am not comfortable writing that, even with plot involved. Trigger warnings; character death, guiltiness/self hate, & period typical homophobia. Google-translate French (sorry) and the underlined words are flashbacks. Enjoy!
Alexander's POV
I watched as my John's body fell to the ground. Shock, despair. There was still hope my dearest. Vaguely I heard Washington say a sharp command. I could feel my hands start to load my pistol, but everything was detached. The spies rushed in. I saw my hand aim and fire at one, Washington at the other two. I would have smiled at their deaths if I had been fully present. Then the guards entered. Too fucking late. I registered myself walking shakily over to John and dropping to my knees at his side. If I was listening I'd hear Washington talking to the guards, telling them to keep this quiet for now and find my tail, but I wasn't. My eyes were locked on John, his pale face. His eyes that were once so lively and full of spirit, the ones that were just pleading for me to understand minutes before, were now empty and unseeing. The hand that I was cradling like a life line was cold and limp, the gun wound that I couldn't bear to look at was bloody, the body that used to do so many things to me was now crumpled and still. Because of me. He was protecting me. I'm shook out my thoughts when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"Come on son, let's go back to your tent." I don't respond, not even with my customary 'notcha son.' There's no nod, no sign that I heard him, I just keep staring. Washington must have helped to my feet at some point because now I'm standing, but I don't even remember letting go of his hand. I can feel him start to lead me away, but I don't want to move. He forces a little harder so I wrench my gaze away and allow myself to be lead. Numb. Broken. Belatedly, I realize we've reached my tent and I feel myself being ushered inside.
"Alex-" He starts.
"I'd like to be left alone, sir" My voice is quiet and emotionless, probably scratchy as well. Washington's face looks hesitant, but he nods and walks out the tent. Then I look around. Mistake. Laurens. His stuff is everywhere, for he has more than I. Abruptly the shock fades, I'm brought back to reality and it hits me. Hard. I fall to my knees, the pain in my chest far worse than I could have imagined. He's gone, he's gone. Suddenly a brutal sob rips through me and the dam is broken. Tears flood my cheeks, bursting out of my eyes like I've never cried before. Painful, ugly sobs push their way out of my mouth, making my chest ache even more than it already does. I close my eyes because looking at the tent hurts, the memories hurt, life without him hurts. I already miss him. I want to scream, maybe I do, I don't know but suddenly the anguish and suffering shifts to anger. If there's a God, he is cruel, I decide. There is no mercy, no love, just cruel twists of fate that rip you up until you join Him. I was never religious, but I pray now. Not out of love for Him, but anger. Out of the loathing that creeps up on me and makes me want to hit something. Why? I want to shout. Why, after everyone I've lost, must you take the last person I loved away! I jump up from my knees and walk towards the closest thing and kick it. Hard. My foot smashes against something and I feel my anger fade as I see what I kicked. A desk. The lone desk in our tent. The shift from rage to sorrow was so fast I got whiplash and was suddenly lost in a memory.
The familiar sound of a quill scratching on parchment filled my ears. It was late, after a long day of work, but John and I were still writing away. These essays we write, inspired by Laurens, were about convincing others to abolish slavery or at least let them fight. We were in the measly tent we shared. The tent that only accommodates one desk. The desk that forces us to sit rather close. And if I was distracted by the way his thigh was pressed against mine than nobody needed to know. I was writing my third sentence of my new page when John spoke up.
"Alright, let's turn in for the night. It's late and our work will be no good if we're sleep deprived."
"But my dear Laurens, I'm almost done" I replied and flashed him my winning smile. He glanced at my almost bare paper and raised an eyebrow. I sighed in defeat and got up, missing the warmth his body provided.
"Ok, ok, we'll try to sleep. But I don't know how I'll manage in the freezing weather anyway." Laurens pauses, as if he's considering something, then speaks.
"You know, men have been saying that they've been sharing a bed to keep warm. We could try that?" I tense. I had also heard of others doing do, but could I be that close to John and keep my self control. Oh but how I want to…
"Sure" I reply against my better judgement.
We were in bed. Together. This is not how I imagined it in my fantasies…There's was an awkward pause, like neither of us knew what to do in this intimate setting. I decided to lighten the mood.
"Small spoon or big spoon?" I asked in a teasing voice. He flushed, but smiled. Mission accomplished… or it would be if one chose to ignore the way my heart sped up a bit when he smiled at me like that.
"Could we just face each other" He asked, seemingly innocent. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"If you insist, my dearest Laurens." I froze at the nickname, for it had just rolled off my tongue, but he didn't seem to mind. We shifted a bit to get into a more comfortable position and settled down like we were going to sleep, but neither of us closed our eyes. There was heat, an intensity in his gaze that I was afraid to label, so I spoke.
"Are you warmer?"
"A little, yeah" He shifted slightly and I felt his crotch accidentally rub against my thigh. Keep it together Hamilton. The eye contact continued. His beautiful face was so close to mine, I could faintly feel his soft breaths. A civil war was in full force within me of whether I should go for it or not. For a moment I thought I saw the same battle though his eyes, but only for a mere second. Fuck it, I'm known for rashness. I moved my head closer to his.
"I know an even better way we can warm up" I said suggestively. His eyes widened at the implication, a blush filling his cheeks. Wordlessly he nodded and I moved closer, slowly so he could push me away if he wished. Then our lips connected. At first it was slow, hesitant, but quickly it became desperate. Laurens grabbed my waist and pulled me closer and I tangled my hands in his hair. Maybe it lasted a minute, days, I don't know. I was on top of John, closer than I ever thought possible. It was pure bliss for those moments, until I was abruptly shoved off and ripped back into reality. I hit the ground and, while it didn't hurt, I sat there. Frozen. Shit. I fucked up. Not matter how great that was, it's not worth the loss of John. I looked up at John, he was sitting up now, head cradled in his hands. I did this to him…
"I'm sorry." he looks up.
"No it's not you, it's just…" he trails off. You're a fucking idiot Hamilton. Sighing, I push myself to my feet.
"I'll go back to my bed now" I'm about to turn around when he speaks again.
"Wait." He pauses then continues when I raise my eyebrows. "I didn't mean to push you off." My eyebrows furrow. Oh whoops, my hands slipped and I broke your heart, my bad. Seeing my confusion he plowed on again.
"I mean, I didn't want to push you off, because I liked the kiss I just- can we- is it- I" He was stuttering so I cut him off.
"Ok, so you liked the kiss, but pushed me off anyway." He nods. "Then why did you push me off." I feel like I'm missing something...
"Because I-I mean- well its just that-"
"Laurens."
"It's not right!" He blurted out. Ouch, that kinda hurts.
"Oh."
"I liked it, and I like you, but that's the problem. I shouldn't like you, you're normal. You like girls, you-" Oh, I see now
"I like you a lot too Laurens" He looks up at me, eyes battling what emotion to project.
"You shouldn't"
"But I do." I sit back down on the bed.
"It's sin"
"Love is never a sin, no matter what form." I move a little closer. "If you don't want to do this, that's fine I'll back off. But if you do." Our faces our inches apart now. "Just say the words." He didn't speak for a moment and fear settled in my gut. Then, as quick as it came, it left when John finally replied.
"Kiss me" he whispered, breath mingling with mine. I smiled and did just that.
God…. that was just the first of many nights together. I start to laugh, bitterly, borderline hysterically. I would've killed him anyway, we weren't that careful. If he didn't die tonight, he would've just fallen by my hand later. There are tears running down my face, I can't even tell if I'm crying or laughing; probably a bit of both. I stumble backwards and land on our cot. The one we always shared. The one where we went so far, but never far enough. My fault, my fault, my fault. The pain that builds in my chest in blinding. Placing my head in my hands, I'm thrown into another memory.
It was a late night, and our crew was still at the bar. Hercules was leaving tomorrow on secret business and we wanted to have a proper going away party…. Which is basically John, Lafayette, Hercules, and I at a bar. We were totally sloshed. I had actually lost count of the round we were on, didn't even know what we were drinking too anymore. John and I were sitting close. Too close. So close that it would be concerning if we weren't drunk in a near deserted bar, and the only people who might notice definitely won't remember in the morning. John's hand has been resting on my thigh, drawing circles, driving me mad. If his hand inches up even a little bit more… Lafayette was saying something funny, and I went to add my two cents when my breath hitched. That teasing little shit. John's hand had moved up a lot farther. Too far. My eyes went dark and I jumped up abruptly on my seat and turned to Laf and Herc, not before missing the smirk on my dearest face. He's going to get it.
"We're gonna turn in for the night" Lafayette frowned.
"But Alexandre you must rester at ze bar" He slurred, unconsciously slipping into French. (But Alexander you must stay at the bar)
"Too bad, we're tired, and we've got work to do early tomorrow." Then I turned to Herc, "I don't know how hungover I'll be, but I'll try to see you off in the morning." My words were slurring, but even drunk I can talk way to much. John gave a quick goodbye and I grabbed his arm and dragged us out of there. We drunkenly stumbled back to the tent, leaning on each other for support. My hormones were rushing and it took all my self control not to pin him against every post we passed. That might give us away.We reached the tent, closed the flap, and with no preamble my mouth attacked his. I heard a soft gasp and used the opportunity to shove my tongue in his mouth. He gave a quiet and content moan and we stumbled back towards the bed. We disconnected and as we fall and I pin him down. He was still smirking.
"In a rush, are we." At this I growled. Then I dipped down really close, my breath tickling his ear.
"Two can play at this game." Laurens shivered, and we went at it.
I run my hand over his pillow. Even when intoxicated I remember everything about Laurens. His smile, his laugh. How he loved to doodle on unused papers, how our thighs used to press together under the desk so no one would notice, or how he used to actually listen to me instead of shushing me. How quickly his eyes could turn fiery at almost any injustice, how he would bite his bottom lip when he was writing or focusing too hard, how he would fiddle with his sleeves when he was nervous, how he loved to rebel against anything unfair, how he tried to always hide his emotions behind a mask, or how his eyes shone with affection when he stared at me…. Your fault, your fault, your fault. I bury my face in my pillow and cry myself to sleep.
Washington's POV
It's been a week. A week since I was almost killed, since Laurens died, since everything has gone to shit. Or gone to shit within my staff. The war was at a relatively stable point, for the spies were quickly disposed of. The night after I dropped Hamilton off, I stayed outside for moment and I heard the sobs, hell the surrounding tents heard the sobs. Heart wrenching. The next morning Hamilton was up and in the tent working, not in his usual spot I observed, but working. He would barely look up, as if he couldn't handle seeing the empty desk. He wrote diligently all day and everyday since, but he hasn't smiled. He hasn't talked to anyone if it wasn't related to work, he hasn't joked, hasn't debated anyone, he hasn't even complained about congress. Nothing.
Everyone knows what happened to Lt. Col. Laurens, everyone's been talking about it, but no ones dared to bring it up to Alexander. Instead people just watch and gossip from afar, judging his choice to shoot himself like it's grade school and we're not in the middle of a war. The camp doesn't know about the tail on Alexander, how he didn't really want to die, or how close Laurens and Hamilton were; and they never will. Based off their last conversation I have assumptions, but I can't afford to spare too much time thinking about the nature of their relationship lest I have to make some staff changes that I don't want to make. Shaking my head I continue working at my desk near my aides when a messenger burst into the large tent.
"General Washington sir, someone has arrived." Not in the mood to converse, I merely raise my eyebrows in a silent question.
"The Marquis, sir." I nod and dismiss him from my tent. Looking at my aides, who were all obviously listening, only Hamilton's head was still perked up. When he notices me looking, however, he quickly puts his head down and start writing furiously. Maybe seeing Lafayette will be good for him.
"Hamilton." He picks his head up and straightens his back.
"Yes sir?"
"Go meet the Marquis and tell him to come here at 1200."
"Yes sir." He covers his ink, stands up, and walks out the tent. I'm feeling pretty satisfied with myself until I freeze with a realization. Lafayette doesn't know about Laurens.
A/N Oh shit, that's not good. Lololololololol. Hope I didn't overdo it with the sadness, I thought it was appropriate. Also, my bad, I lied. Laf will be in the next chapter so stay tuned.