A/N: WADDUP GUYS! Thanks for being patient, I've had a lot of stuff on this week. But we're here with the first instalment of part 2, and if you wanted more actual Jeffergelica, well, your wish is my command! And to the guest who suggested a story with Lafayette coming to defend Hamilton to Jefferson, firstly I love hearing suggestions for stories, and secondly that sounds like a really good idea! I might tweak it a bit, and it will take a while, but that's going on my list of future fanfics!
And yes, the part names are inspired by In The Heights. Which I don't own, nor do I own or profit from Hamilton. This is just for fun! So on with the show!
Chapter 5: How do you say "Kiss me"? - Part I
Paris, Summer 1787
In the months following her first kiss with Thomas Jefferson, it quickly emerged that Angelica Schuyler Church owed a lot to Maria Cosway. No longer pining helplessly for her family across the sea and feeling guilty for the stirrings of her heartstrings every time her esteemed brother in law was mentioned in passing, she was finally beginning to fully appreciate the beauty of Paris. Ironically, it was a beauty which Thomas had been the first to introduce her to during that first platonic stroll about the city they had taken, which was some months ago now, and it was also Thomas who enticed her heart, causing her to genuinely adore the birthplace of her most exciting affair.
The pangs of guilt, though violent when they surfaced, were few and far between, as were the extended periods of time spent with her husband. Instead, she chose to pass her days with Jefferson, taking in the air in the city or his gardens, (both of them grew to greatly prefer the privacy offered by the latter) or having philosophical debates as she used to with her Father in the days before he decided she was growing too old to be allowed to share her opinions, or watching with fascinated interest as he wrote for hours on end, unafraid and unreserved about offering her own astute observations or intelligent advice to him as he crafted paragraph after paragraph of eloquent words and phrases. Those days were her favourites, the ones when she could truly forget she had ever made the mistake of marrying John Church, and any ideas of her brother in law were only mild ponderings regarding whether he would be doing similar things with her beloved sister at that precise moment in time.
And of course, every meeting without fail inevitably resulted in a mischievous smirk, an unspoken dare, before one of the unofficial couple dragged the other to their lips and engulfed them in a deep, heated kiss, hands becoming bolder as the weeks passed, teasing at shirt collars and corset buttons and belt buckles but never actually unlocking the forbidden fruit.
But that didn't matter. A single kiss from Thomas was infinitely more exciting than a night spent with her rightful husband between her legs, so Angelica was happy to simply relish the newness and exhilaration which left her breathless rather than pursuing something more.
For the time being, at least.
It was an evening suspiciously similar to the one upon which the pair had first encountered one another, this time a ball in honour of some unknown politician's birthday, that the dynamics of their relationship changed in a major way. It was the first time they had appeared together at a large social engagement, and simultaneously the first evening where Mr Church and Mr Jefferson were both in attendance following the recent developments between the American and the Briton's wife. And, as was the case with every single engagement Angelica attended on her husband's arm, any joviality of the evening was lost on her. Absentmindedly trying to distract herself from the dull task of occupying the space on John's forearm and smiling blankly at all those she was introduced to, she decided, If there is a downside to spending time with Thomas, it is that it throws a sharply illuminating light on how boring my life without him is by comparison.
A tap on her shoulder, then a beckoning grin from the man as he withdrew from her side, and she was quickly reminding herself, The abundant benefit is that I have a reprieve from the monotonous life as the bride of an unstimulating attempted-politician. She tapped John on the shoulder, distracting him from his conversation as she apologised, "Love, would you mind if I went to fetch myself a drink? I'm suddenly parched; it's very humid in here, don't you think?" Of course, the overbearing pretension you adopt at this kind of gathering is equally stifling, she added silently, though of course the sharp words would not manifest on her lips.
Though it was phrased like a question, Church could only agree, "Of course, dear, you must stay hydrated in this heat." Before she had even retreated, he had returned to conversing with the two strangers Angelica hadn't bothered to learn the names of and chuckling, "It's only to be expected that a woman is more susceptible to the feeble warmth - still, Mrs Church is a handsome woman, so we must cut her some slack and permit her to indulge!"
His comrades laughed in tandem with John himself, none of them noticing that Angelica bristled at the display of blatant disrespect shown by her own husband. Any trace of remorse troubling her dissipated in that instant, and without feeling any obligation to force a pleasant smile, she fixed the three men with an icy glare cool enough to freeze their laughter at once. Satisfied, she whirled around, skirts swirling around her in an elegant cloud of coral as she stalked away from the trio towards a table laden with glasses of wine: in truth she had intended to make her way straight to her illicit lover, but following that event she genuinely felt desperately in need of some alcohol.
She picked up a glass of wine from a table at the side of the room and took a large quantity of it in a single swallow, only stopping when she felt a brave hand settling on her waist and pulling her gently into a familiar embrace. Though her eyes were closed, the familiar heady scent of a perfume which in itself indicated wealth beyond reason and the tickle of breath against her neck as she heard a hushed southern accent murmur into her ear, "That looked tough, my dearest Angelica. The way you deal with that horrid husband of yours is truly admirable, if not lamentable. So, mind if I help you forget about it?"
A smile striking her lips involuntarily at the bizarrely soothing presence of Jefferson at her side, Angelica set down her wine glass, turning to the taller man and feigning surprise as she remarked, "You're being terribly bold, Mr Jefferson, Sir. Aren't you forgetting that I am not yours to hold by the waist and to whisper sweet comforts to?"
His smug grin growing and consuming his entire expression to radiate out of him, Jefferson revealed, "Not at all. I know your husband is just metres away, and I also know he does not deserve you. Which is partly why nothing would give me so much pressure in this moment as to share the next dance with you, to elicit as much jealousy from him as he does from me." As Angelica hesitated out of loyalty to the admittedly infuriating man whose surname she shared, Jefferson leaned even closer, bringing his forehead just millimetres from hers as he confessed, "The other reason is that I would adore the opportunity to hold you close to me, regardless of the circumstances."
With words so charming and brown eyes which seemed to melt into a thousand shades of orange and red and gold when the setting summer sun struck them, the eldest former Schuyler sister found herself unable to refuse. With an indulgent smile, she took hold of the hand of his which wasn't already on her waist, and placed her free hand on his shoulder. Standing closer than was conventionally accepted between anything less than a married couple and pretending she couldn't sense the many pairs of accusing eyes burning into them both, Angelica responded coquettishly, "In which case, your wish is my command."
It was not simply the next dance which they shared; they spent hours twirling and skipping across the ballroom floor, shamelessly giggling and allowing daring hands to slip into familiar positions, lingering stares to never be broken, and flirtatious comments to be exchanged just a whisper too loudly. The second of Jefferson's aims was undoubtedly achieved, and after just over two hours, it became clear that the first had also come to completion.
There were only so many questions John Church could stomach regarding the small, insignificant matter of his wife and an intelligent American man he knew she had been spending increasing amounts of time with recently before his growing suspicions led him to feel that he had no option but to interrupt, placing a hand on Jefferson's shoulder to push him gently but firmly away as he took Angelica by the wrist, breaking her overly comfortable physical contact with the man. As soon as he touched her, a repressed shock of culpability charged through her bloodstream, making her meek and obedient as he greeted with forced civility, "My dear, I am sorry to interrupt, but I have decided that you must go home." Glancing between her half-concealed disappointment and Jefferson's open disgust, he justified, "It's getting late, I will be here for another few hours, at least, and I'm sure you must be feeling rather disconsolate, what with me being preoccupied elsewhere." He didn't say as much, but he was quite frankly telling his bride that he believed she should and could only ever be happy in his company. While Angelica remained still and placid with practiced indifference, Thomas allowed murderous loathing to flood his dark brown eyes.
Every instinct within Angelica urged her to argue. Everything, that is, except from the blinding realization that she had intentionally spent the majority of the evening in the arms of her secret lover, knowing full well that her own husband watched on. And though a part of her had wanted to harm his reputation, to mock him like he had done to her, she couldn't help but allow her conscience to alter her reply. So instead of refusing, she simply nodded, dredged up a smile, and agreed, "Of course, Love. You're so thoughtful." Her words lacked conviction, but she knew in her heart that John wouldn't notice. She also knew that he wouldn't be able to distinguish the difference between a show of true marital affection and an action intended only to silence any remaining whispers placing her name with Thomas', which is precisely what she was doing when she turned to kiss him.
It was nothing compared to the kisses she shared with Jefferson, but it was evidently more than enough to soothe and muzzle her husband's paranoia, as he smiled, shook Jefferson's hand, and returned to his previous conversation, trusting that his bride would soon make her way home.
And indeed she did - or at least, she tried to. The only thing she could offer to Thomas was an apologetic shrug, and then she was darting through the guests to make her way out of the door and into the street. But with his pride and heart injured in equal measure, Jefferson would not allow her to escape him so easily. He followed in her footsteps, breaking onto the street outside just moments after her, to find the Parisian night empty and mostly silent.
Silent save for the panting of a stressed woman just a few metres away, leaning back against the wall of the building as she tried to reassemble her nerves and reclaim her usual collected demeanour. Upon seeing that Jefferson had chased after her, however, her efforts came to an immediate halt, and she warned him as he slowly approached her, "Don't, Thomas. Don't say a word, don't do a thing, just turn around and go back inside. Spend the rest of your night like an ordinary politician, like John."
Ignoring her demands, he stepped closer, trying to console her clear panic, "Angelica -"
"Jefferson, don't take another step towards me. I swear, I'll scream if you do; I told you, I'm not yours to hold."
Cocking an eyebrow in sceptical confusion, Jefferson remarked, "I don't understand what's wrong or what's happening in your mind, but if either of us has a right to be irritated, it is definitely me. You just kissed another man right in front of me, Angelica! Are you trying to make me even more envious than the ring on your finger already condemns me to be?" His true frustration seeped into his words, causing the volume to rise, and he was close to shouting as his sentence concluded.
"Another man?" She laughed without humour as she continued, "Must I really remind you that this other man you speak of is my husband? I have kissed him, only for you to treat it as some heinous crime! That is what's wrong, Thomas - my poor husband just saw you and I together. He saw me smiling more than he has made me in all of our years together during those two hours I spent in your arms, and regardless of what I think of him, I can't help but pity the man." Lowering her gaze as well as her voice, she mumbled, "It's not right. People will get hurt."
"Angie, stop being ridiculous," Jefferson scolded, but his words were soft. Somehow, he could never manage to be truly angry at her. In spite of her threats, he courageously closed the distance between them, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his intense eyes as he continued with fierce insistence, "That man doesn't deserve you. Maybe he was hurt when he saw us together, but I must inform you of the uncomfortable fact that he didn't even look at you once when you were actually there with him. If igniting his envy is the only way you can entice him to care, then I'm afraid he is not worth the effort." A shadow crossed her face, creasing her brow, and he recognized she was wavering. Capitalizing on the opportunity, he pressed his lips to hers, a gentle, sweet kiss filled with warmth and genuine affection. And though her better judgment wailed in helpless protest, her rational mind and pounding heart gave in, alleviating all of the rigid tension which had filled her body and weighed down her every limb and instead allowing her to melt into Jefferson, their bodies slotting together as though they were crafted specifically to do just that.
As Angelica snaked her slender arms around Thomas' neck and buried her fingers in his thick mane, pulling him closer and leaning back into the wall behind her, his mouth moved from hers, tracing a line from the corner of her lips to her jaw and then onto her neck, pulling aside the fabric of her dress with his teeth to kiss down to her collar bone. Her breath hitched under his kisses, and she realized with a shock that she knew precisely what she wanted to happen next - and if she remained there, pressed against the wall of a building where her husband tried to make advantageous contacts to elevate his status whilst her lover lavished his adoration onto every exposed area of her skin, she suspected that it might just become a reality. Beginning to stammer, caught by surprise from the heat building within her, she muttered, "I should be going home... I told John I would."
Lifting his mouth from where it connected with her flesh, Jefferson replied in a husky tone, "Why don't you stop worrying about John?" It took another heartbeat for him to muster the courage to suggest, "Why don't you come home with me instead?"
Surely some sort of warning ought to have flashed through her brain, chilling her increasing passion and bringing her back to the reality of her dreary life. But she rationalized that the fact that the only thing she felt was a deep, almost animalistic stirring of unreserved lust deep in her stomach spoke volumes about what was right and what was not. And so, she decided to crush any lingering uncertainty, turning her back on her husband and shedding her wedding ring for that night.
Of course, upon arrival at Jefferson's house, it was not only her wedding ring which left her body. But in exchange for propriety and modesty and reservation and clothes, she got gentle caresses, tantalizing fingers exploring the canvas of her body, and smirking, smug lips which roamed over every square inch, relishing the sweet taste of her skin, as well as finally receiving the long-awaited pleasure which she had been promised as she squirmed under Thomas, groaning and grasping and struggling for breath as it continued to be stolen in the most intimate of ways.
And when it was done, she found that she could not think of a single regret. There was nothing but blissful satisfaction as she laid comfortably atop Thomas' bare chest, an arm around her waist and another cradling her hip, the man humming softly as he waited for her to fall into a deep, luxurious slumber.
A/N: Aww these cuties! They doin the dooooo!
I make no promises about when this will be updated, but it's getting juicy so I really hope to set aside the time to add some more as soon as possible. Thanks so much for reading, reviewing and following - it motivates me more than you know!