It was the moment Hamilton had been waiting for all weekend. The breakout session he had circled, starred, and underlined on his conference schedule.
At least, it should have been.
"You can't be serious, sir."
But Washington had raised a brow, going so far as to circle the new breakout session in thick red ink on Alexander's schedule.
"As a heart attack. Which is what you will give me one of these days if you can't learn to get along with your co-workers."
"Even the stupid ones, sir?"
"Alexander, just go."
That's how Alex found himself reluctantly claiming a seat in "How to Achieve Ultimate Harmony in the Workplace (Getting Past Prejudice and Moving Toward Peace)" instead of his preferred session that Saturday afternoon.
Maybe he could take a quick power nap to pass the time…
This would've been more fun if John were here. At least then they could poke fun at the ridiculous lecture. In reality, he knew Laurens wouldn't have been forced to attend the session. The man was friends with everyone.
Alex had to keep from aubily groaning when he took a glance around the room. Across the small aisle, Jefferson sat at the edge of the middle section of seats.
You've got to be kidding me…
"Of course," Alex scoffed, "you would be here."
When Jefferson glanced his way, he did groan. "Ugh, I don't have the energy for you right now, Hamilton. And what do you mean, of course I'd be here? You're here too, in case you haven't noticed."
"I thought you didn't have energy for me, yet here you are, starting another argument."
"I'm not the one who spoke first, Hamilton."
"Yeah? Well, I'm not the one who chose this session!"
"Neither did I, if it makes you feel any better."
It did, just a bit, knowing that he wasn't the only one Washington had punished with this stupid lecture. But Alex would never admit that to his rival. Never in a million frickin' years.
"One of us should just find another seat," Alex grumbled. He couldn't look at the podium without seeing Jefferson out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes, you should find another seat."
"I was talking about you."
"I was here first," Jefferson retorted, his face smug. Well… sort of. It was… twisted, too? And his next words floated out on a sigh that could only be described as exhausted. "I'm not moving, Hamilton."
"Fine. It's just a waste of breath to argue with you." And a waste of mental energy trying to decipher… whatever the hell is going on with you.
It wasn't his problem. Jefferson wasn't his problem. Not today. Not when he had a conference to attend.
He made a show of standing up and glaring at Jefferson before finding another seat. The workshop wasn't very popular, so there were empty chairs galore. Alex picked one toward the back—better for napping, of course—and sat down just as the session started.
It was boring as hell, but Alexander hadn't expected anything different from a lecture that had the words "Harmony" and "Peace" in the title.
He didn't need to find harmony in the workplace. He could barely find harmony in his own home; how was he supposed to do it at work? Work was for working, not playing best friends forever with everyone he met.
But, for Washington's sake, he would sit through the lecture. He'd agreed to do that much. What he didn't agree to, however, was to pay attention, so he let his thoughts wander freely.
…Until Jefferon brushed past his seat, making a beeline for the exit. Alex had to bite down on his tongue to keep from shouting Hey! Because if he had to sit through hell, Jefferson had to do it, too.
No way are you leaving me to do this by myself. This workshop is for both of us!
Before he knew what he was doing, Alex found himself tailing Jefferson out the door and around the corner. The room was adjacent to the vendor hall and the chaos of the crowd floated through the air.
Alex thrived on it. The activity, the chatter, the energy and pulse of the people. In that moment, however, it all flew over his head. He had tunnel vision for Jefferson and getting the man back into the lecture.
Or, hear me out... You could just abandon the lecture and say you sat through it. No one would know. That's probably what he's going to do, anyway, and—Whoa, whoa!
Instinct drove him across the floor, prompting him to catch Jefferson before the man fell. The gesture certainly wasn't out of the goodness of his heart or a care for his rival's well-being. It was more of a... didn't want to cause a scene sort of thing. Besides, what would Angelica and Lafayette say if they knew he had stood back and watched their friend collapse on the ground?
That wasn't a conversation he even wanted to think about.
"Hey, steady there," Alex muttered, slinging one of Jefferson's arms around his shoulders and hoping upon hope the taller man wouldn't fall and crush him. "Come on…"
Only when he led Jefferson to a nearby bench was Alex able to get a good look at his rival. Jefferson's eyes were slammed shut and he seemed to be fighting to catch his breath—or fighting not to be sick.
Are you all right? It sat on the tip of his tongue, burning his lips and begging to be released. Yet, saying it felt… wrong. It felt like the antithesis of their entire relationship.
To speak or not to speak, that was the question Alexander was pondering when Jefferson finally cracked his eyes open and glanced up.
"Hamilton," he acknowledged, "What are you…?"
Saying just that much seemed to take it out of Jefferson and he slumped back against the wall.
"I saved you from falling or whatever. You're welcome."
Jefferson simply hummed his thanks, though it sounded more like a groan.
"What's going on with you, anyway? You've been weird all weekend."
"Nice of you to notice," Jefferson commented and Alex rolled his eyes.
"Fine, don't accept my help. I only stopped you from making a fool of yourself in front of the entire vendor hall, but what do I know?"
At this, Jefferson doubled over, clutching his head and digging his elbows into his knees.
"I just…" Jefferson sucked in a sharp breath. "My head is killing me and I can't… I don't think I can make it back to the lecture. Washington is gonna be so mad…"
"Hey, I won't tell if you won't." Alex sat down on the other side of the bench. "When's the last time you took a painkiller?"
"Ibuprofen, about two or three hours ago. Can't take anymore until…"
"Here." Alexander pulled his bottle of acetaminophen from his bag. "You can take these two hours after ibuprofen. They're better for headaches than the other stuff, anyway."
"Probably not migraines, though," Jefferson mumbled.
Alex just shrugged. "Never know till you try."
Though he would never admit it, the way Jefferson was pressing his fingers into his forehead was unsettling, to say the very least. Angelica would've called it concern, but Alexander wasn't about to go there.
"I think that's only gonna make it worse…"
Jefferson shot him a look before standing up. "Enjoy the rest of the conference, Hamilton. I need to—"
As Jefferson's legs gave out, Alex leapt up and steadied him until they could both ease back onto the bench.
"All right, that's enough of that." Alexander pursed his lips, settling in for the long haul. They might be rivals, but he wasn't heartless. "What do you need?"
And if it had been him suffering a killer migraine, he sure as hell wouldn't have wanted Jefferson to walk away, to abandon him in the middle of a busy conference.
I just hope I don't regret this.
Don't make me regret this, Jefferson.
Don't make me regret this.
"What do you need?"
Had it been under any other circumstance, Thomas would've laughed out loud. Alexander Hamilton was asking him what kind of help he needed.
The world must have been ending or something.
As it was, however, Thomas leaned into the aid. The sooner he could get out of there, the better.
The lights wouldn't stop burning his eyes, and the noise of the crowd had long since turned into a cacophony straight out of hell. And when had that awful hammering started up in the front of his skull…?
"I need…" He gasped, trying to catch his next breath. I need to get back to my room. I need the pain to stop. I need Hamilton to not be the only one around to help. "I need to… I don't know what I need…"
"I think you need to get out of here."
"Astute observation, Watson."
"Just for that, I should keep my painkillers." Even as he said it, Hamilton offered a palm of acetaminophen.
Thomas couldn't swallow them fast enough. Thanking his rival felt wrong and he couldn't seem to force the words out of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.
Lucky for him, Hamilton didn't seem to notice. "How's your head now?"
"In the two seconds since I took the pills?" Thomas snorted. "About the same."
Worse, actually. But who was counting? It all hurt like hell, it didn't really matter how much.
"I've had a migraine or two," Hamilton went on. "Nothing like this, but still. You need to get to a quiet space. Somewhere dark."
I know. I know…
But he couldn't even remember his room number. He didn't even know if he could make it halfway down the hall, much less to an elevator. All he could do was clutch his head and screw his eyes shut.
Hamilton took a deciding breath before tapping Thomas on the shoulder. "Give me your phone."
The second Thomas' head shot up in indignation, he regretted it. Everything within him begged to be allowed to curl up on the floor and die, yet he squinted at Hamilton.
"Why would I just give my phone to you, of all people?"
"Because you can barely keep your eyes open, much less look at a bright screen." Hamilton's logic was infallible, and Thomas cursed it. While he was at it, he also cursed Washington for making him go to that stupid harmony lecture. "And I don't have Madison's number."
"Fine." With a hand that refused to stop trembling, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Hamilton.
"I'll need the password."
Thomas couldn't help but huff a chuckle. "I'm not giving you my password. No way in hell."
"Fine." Hamilton shoved the phone into Thomas' face, no doubt trying to get the face-ID to work. "I don't even know why I'm helping you, you're being so difficult."
"And I don't even know why I came here," Thomas muttered in response.
"I know why I'm here," Hamilton quipped, answering the rhetorical question. "Because you put that damn flyer on Washington's desk."
"Oh, shut up, this is extra work on a weekend. You're loving this."
"Are you kidding? I could've been on a weekend getaway with my wife and kids in Maine!"
Fine. As another wave of pain assaulted his skull, Thomas heaved an exasperated sigh. "Then why are you here, Hamilton?"
The silence was deafening. Thomas had expected a snarky comeback, or maybe even a biting quip about how it was none of his business. But he hadn't counted on the silence…
Not from Hamilton, of all people.
Hamilton's response, when it came, was unusually soft, uncharacteristically subdued. "Just open your damn phone, Thomas, and I'll call Madison."
Though his tired limbs rebelled against him with every movement, Thomas directed the phone in Hamilton's hands toward his face. Of course, the face-ID chose that moment to pretend it didn't know him from Adam, so he typed in the code.
Wrong password, it screamed, shaking out the code and prompting him to try again, but do better this time, will you? Another failed attempt had him admitting the screen was blurred beyond his current levels of comprehension.
Are you freaking kidding me—?
"It's my birthday," he said with a groan, shoving the phone back toward Hamilton, "but in numerical order from least to greatest. Just know… I'll be changing it as soon as I can get out of this hell."
If the icepick to his brain would just stop for a single second, then maybe he could think. Maybe he could… could…
As Hamilton typed in the sequence, he snorted. "Good thing, too, because that's the most unoriginal password of all time. You're practically begging someone to break into your phone. Don't worry, I won't judge you for any of your contacts. I'm not that shallow—Hey, how do you have John's number?"
"I don't know. Everyone has his number," Thomas sighed. It took a few seconds, but a jolt finally surged through him as he realized… "Hey, wait, how did you know that?"
"Uh, 'cause in the contact list, Laurens comes before Madison?"
"No, not that. My birthday. How the hell do you know that?"
Even through the thick haze of pain, Thomas could tell that Hamilton was putting a little too much effort into sounding nonchalant and disinterested. Like he hadn't just revealed that he knew his rival's birthday. "Because of that ridiculous office party Laf threw for you in April."
Thomas raised a brow. "And you remembered?"
"How could I forget? I've never seen so much magenta in one place in my whole life and I never wanna see that again. And no, I didn't sign your card."
"I didn't think you would." The soft smile he felt tugging at his lips wasn't something he wanted to think about or even try to decipher, so he relaxed back against the wall and simply breathed.
"All right, hold on a sec," Hamilton said a moment later, "it's ringing, so just a few—Oh, Madison, hey. This is Alex… No, I didn't steal his phone… Yeah, he's fine. Well, not really, but he says he is because he's an idiot and… No, but you should probably come and get him… We're just outside room A12… Where else do you think we're gonna go? … All right, see you."
Thomas barely registered when Hamilton handed him back his phone. Though the constant pulse made forming any cohesive thought a chore, pocketing the device was second-nature.
"He'll be here as soon as he can. Apparently," Hamilton pressed on, "he was in the session I wanted to be in. But Washington made me go to that stupid harmony peace thing or whatever."
"Which one was it?" Thomas asked, curious despite the ringing that had started up in his ears. That was a new one. Just one more thing to add to the long list of migraine pains.
"'Investing Like a Boss (How to Beat the Stock Market at Its Own Game).'"
"Oh, I wanted to see that one, too. Maybe James took notes…"
"It would've been way more helpful and interesting than any of that crap back there." Hamilton let out a scoff, the telltale sign that a tirade was imminent. "I mean, half of what that speaker said was just common sense. And he kept repeating himself like we were all preschoolers sitting in timeout or something."
Thomas couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image. "Honestly, I don't think I heard a word of it."
"Lucky. You didn't have to suffer."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Thomas shot Hamilton a look. "You wanna rethink that statement?"
"Right, whatever. I meant, you didn't have to suffer that lecture."
The silence that followed was one Thomas had been looking forward to. At least, he thought he'd been… He wasn't actually missing Hamilton's chatter because that would've been absurd.
No, he was just… missing the distraction.
Right. That's it.
Never in a million years would he have pictured himself sitting next to Hamilton in a scenario where they weren't trying to rip each other's heads off. The world must've been turning upside down or something. That was the only logical explanation Thomas could find.
"Why'd your family go up north without you?" He'd debated asking the question for a few minutes until his tongue apparently had enough of waiting.
It had been bugging him ever since Hamilton had evaded it earlier. So, why not ask…? Not like there's much else to do.
Beside him, Hamilton stiffened. The hesitance that filled the air like static clung to Thomas, almost making him regret bringing it up again.
"Lately…" Shock ran through Thomas' mind at the realization that Hamilton was giving a straight answer to, frankly, a very personal question. "Eliza and I have been…"
That's when James came jogging up, shattering whatever weird progress they had been making. In an instant, Hamilton's walls were back up.
"You know what? It's none of your business, Jefferson."
"Fine," Thomas sighed. "Whatever."
When James approached them, he gave Thomas a good, long once-over, arms crossed tightly against his chest.
"Hey," Thomas managed, not even trying for a weak smile. It wouldn't have come off well, anyway.
James pursed his lips, but he didn't respond. Not yet.
Just say something already, will you?
Thomas cleared his throat. "All right, so… I know what this looks like—"
"It doesn't look a thing like food poisoning, that's for damn sure." Thomas opened his mouth, but James wasn't done. "And if you say 'Astute observation, Watson,' I might just have to strangle you."
"Good. You can put me out of my misery, then."
Hamilton huffed as he stood. "So dramatic."
"Hey, you're one to talk…" Thomas grumbled.
James' question put a stop to the bickering before it had a chance to truly begin. "So, what happened?"
"Nothing, I'll be fine."
"If you're not gonna tell it," Hamilton said, "then I will."
Thomas massaged his temple. "God help us all…"
"So," Hamilton began, "we were both forced to go to this stupid lecture about harmony or whatever, and it was the most boring thing I've ever sat through, and that's saying a lot because I sit through Jefferson's presentations every week. I walk in there, and lo and behold, he's sitting across from me, so I'm like, forget this, and I move to another seat so—"
"Just skip to the end, Hamilton," James said, his patience visibly wearing thin—and his eyes, Thomas noted, clouding with worry.
"Fine, fine." Hamilton took a breath. "He rushed out of the room, and I figured if he wasn't going to sit through that crap, I wasn't going to either. Then, I caught him before he collapsed—twice."
"Once," Thomas objected, earning a glare from Hamilton.
"Twice. How would you even know, anyway? You were totally out of it." When Hamilton turned back to James, Thomas knew it was all over. "Migraine. Like, probably one of the worst I've ever seen. He needs your help to get back to his room. Hey, do you think there's still time to catch the end of that investment lecture?" Before James could even open his mouth, Hamilton was waving a dismissive hand. "Never mind, I'll just go see for myself."
As Thomas glanced up at James, he caught sight of Hamilton's retreating form. When the man looked back, their eyes locked and Thomas gave a tight nod. To his surprise, Hamilton nodded in return before scurrying around the corner.
"Was all that accurate, everything he said?" James' voice sounded closer for some reason.
It should. He's sitting right beside you, idiot.
Maybe Hamilton was right. Maybe he was kinda out of it… Didn't even notice him sitting down.
"Unfortunately," Thomas sighed, "yeah. Go ahead, chew me out. I know you want to."
"No, I don't think I will."
"Thank God…"
"At least," James went on, slipping Thomas' arm over his shoulders, "not right now. I'll save the lecture for when I know you can actually comprehend what I'm saying."
Thomas winced. "I knew there was some sort of catch. Sounded too good to be true."
Taking it slow, James helped Thomas stand up. The world spun and tilted, but James held him fast.
"Ready?" his friend asked, voice gentle.
Swallowing down the nausea, Thomas nodded. "As I'll ever be, I guess."
"All right. Just let me know if you need to stop."
"Angelica was right," Thomas heard his traitorous lips mumble as they reached the elevators.
"What?"
Too late to turn back now…
"You're a good friend."
Though James rolled his eyes and huffed, Thomas caught the beginnings of a small smile on the man's face.