John Laurens & Alexander Hamilton.
WE ARE MORE THAN WILLING TO DIE
Summary: John returns to the tent he shares with Alexander, and finds himself with the news his friend is leaving the fight, under Washington's orders.
He's more than willing to die.
"Hey, Alex—" John says as a greeting, cheerful, entering the tent he shared with his friend. Upon the sight that received him, his smile disappeared from his lips, "—What are you doing?" He stops at the entrance, watching how the tent was bare of any belongings Alexander had had.
"I'm leaving."
"Leaving?!" John repeats, and his heart thumbs hard against his ribcage in a painful way.
"I'm not wanted here anymore, John." Alexander informs, and walks toward Laurens, one hand finding rest on his shoulder. His smile is warm, and his eyes lose that sharpness and anger, softening to John.
"Alex, you-you can't leave." John tries a smile, but it feels forced and odd, so he drops it. "We're in the middle of war." He adds, and Alexander smiles fondly at him, as if he were saying his goodbye silently. "We need you, Alexander. You've got great brains and, and—"
"You did great on today's duel. Didn't expect less from a man of your caliber." He says, cutting John's trembling voice, and John's chest swells with warm pride at the praise.
"Just like you said. I didn't throw away my shot." John says, soft, as if he didn't want anyone else to know. Perhaps is the way his throat seems to tighten that he does so, doesn't want to raise his voice for fear of breaking into tears again. "I didn't throw it away and I— we—"
"Shh. I know, I know."
Alexander holds him in his embrace just like Lafayette had done moments ago. John reciprocates the action, bites hard his lower lip to hold back the tears. "Do you— are you really leaving?" He asks, unsure, hoping this is one bad joke from his friend.
"Orders from your excellency." Alexander replies, his tone just as soft as John's.
John laughs bitterly. "He doesn't know what he's letting go away." He croaks, and blinks repeatedly. "If I die I want you to tell Washington is because you weren't by my side."
"No throwing away your shot, Laurens." Alexander playfully chides.
"I won't. But you're the one to help with clear thoughts." Laurens replies, hugging Alexander with a bit of more force, don't wanting to let go, in fear that as soon as he lets his hold loose, the man would vanish right on the spot.
There's mirth on Alexander's tone as he retorts: "Could've sworn I was the one with crazy ideas."
"You are! Which means I'm the one to have the rational ideas." John adds, and presses his face tighter against Alexander's shoulder.
"Don't die, John. Not until we've won. And we've well lived past our prime, and our children tell our story."
John shakes his head against the clothed shoulder of his friends, and muffles a laugh. "Me dying seems as plausible as you throwing away your shot, Alex."
Alexander feels his face break into a wide smile, and he leaves a kiss on John's shoulder, before pulling away. "Never gonna happen, right?"
John's smile is as wide as his as he replies, "Never. You'll not get rest of me until we're both old." He's sure of his words, believes in them as he believes in Alexander's words.
Never gonna happen.
No, it won't.
They'll win the war, and they'll keep accomplishing more things in life. And when they're old, they'll keep jesting, carefree of worry and knowing they'd had done their share in the world.
"'Till the world turns upside down, John." Alexander says, and John recognizes the phrase, knows Alexander won't stop trying to rise up until the war is won, and not even after that. Knows Alexander will keep going, unrelenting. His thoughts get the closure he needed after hearing those upsetting words tumble from Alexander's lips at the general's tent.
John sighs in contentment, satisfied with that knowledge. "'Till we meet again, Alexander."
.
And, one more chapter to go! :D (this is a fic with three chapters). Sorry if anything sounding off or being puzzling, I apologize for it.