Work Text:
Love isn't always tender looks and gentle smiles. It isn't always holding hands in the street and trading kisses when passing in the corridors. Sometimes love stays behind closed doors. Sometimes love is shouting abuse across the cabinet then whispering the truth into your lover's ear at night.
~~~~~
Washington stood, tall and proud, as he spoke, explaining in his efficient manner that he would have the final and only say on whether or not to aid France in the revolution. Good. Congress dislikes me and is far more likely to side with Jefferson if they were given a vote. I was already aware of the lack of the vote, Washington had told me days ago, but I pretended to listen anyway.
"Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir." I zoned back into the debate, now it would get interesting. Jefferson stood, leaving his notes on the desk in front of them, unrequired for his address.
"When we were on death’s door, when we were needy, we made a promise, we signed a treaty. We needed money and guns and half a chance. Who provided those funds?"
His rhetorical question was answered by Madison. I rolled my eyes as he continued. Ugh, Madison can be an idiot.
"In return, they didn’t ask for land, only a promise that we’d lend a hand and stand with them if they fought against oppressors, and revolution is messy but now is the time to stand. Stand with our brothers as they fight against tyranny. I know that Alexander Hamilton is here and he would rather not have this debate. I’ll remind you that he is not Secretary of State! He knows nothing of loyalty, smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty. Desperate to rise above his station, everything he does betrays the ideals of our nation. Hey, and if ya don’t know, now ya know, Mr. President." I smirked as he finished, Jefferson always resorts to personal insults at some point in his speech. I, however, would win without stooping so low.
"Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response," Washington prompted. I rose from my seat, took a breathe, and began to speak.
"You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think the President is gonna bring the nation to the brink of meddling in the middle of a military mess, a game of chess, where France is Queen and Kingless. We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket. Would you like to take it out and ask it? Should we honor our treaty, King Louis’ head? Uh… do whatever you want, I’m super dead." I was about to continue, words forming sentences in my head but Washington cut me off.
"Enough. Hamilton is right."
"Mr. President." Washington ignored him.
"We’re too fragile to start another fight."
"But sir, do we not fight for freedom?" Jefferson is really set on this.
"Sure, when the French figure out who’s gonna lead ‘em."
"The people are leading." Washington cut him off, clearly irritated, as I continue to watch.
"The people are rioting, there’s a difference. Frankly, it’s a little disquieting you would let your ideals blind you to reality. Hamilton!" Wait, that's me!
"Sir?" I questioned.
"Draft a statement of neutrality" Hah, I guess I win.
The rest of the day was hectic, despite the fact I spent it all in my office. I drafted the statement, wrote essays defending other bills going through Congress, and generally didn't stop writing. It was late in the evening when I finally left, Washington had ordered me out. I deposited my bag on the stand by the door, noting the purple coat hanging off one of the hooks, and entered my lounge to see Jefferson waiting for me.
"Hey, Thomas."
"Hey, Sweetheart." He stood and crossed the room towards me. "How was the rest of your day?"
"It was," I started before realizing that to say it was fine would be a lie. Thomas and I agreed to not lie to each other. It wasn't terrible it was just... I just need a break. "It wasn't the best, I'm just," I tried to continue but, as often happened if I hadn't slept for a few days, the stress of the day, previously chained up in the back of my mind, broke free and crashed down, drowning words and locking me in my head. Before Thomas the end of the day was hell but now, Thomas was there and he helped. I just had to ask. That is the way Thomas insists it has to work. I focused on the words, then attempted again to speak. "Can you take me out of my head?" I looked down at the floor, growing more worried every second that I shouldn't have asked, that he would say no.
"It would be a pleasure, darling." I heaved a sigh of relief. A hand cupped my chin, gently lifting until I was looking up at Thomas. "Can you remember your words?"
"Red is stop, yellow is, yellow is wait, and green is keep going," I forced out.
"Good boy, now when was the last time you ate?"
"I-I'm not sure," I tried to curl in on myself, embarrassed by both my lack of memory and my lack of ability to care for myself, but the steady hand on my chin stopped me.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." An arm drew me against his warm side. "Come and sit down and you can eat now."
I let the arm wrapped tenderly yet firmly around my waist guide me across the room and I slowly dropped on to the cushion lying beside the sofa. Thomas sat on the sofa and I let my head loll against his leg. A hand curled into my hair and I closed my eyes at the sensation of his slow strokes. I let myself relax and just sit there. Thomas is there. I'm ok. I'm ok. The hand guided my chin up as coarse thumb brushed against my lower lip. I let my mouth sink open and was rewarded with a grape placed tenderly on my tongue, close enough to the tip that I could bite down and be greeted by the sweet juice. I ate slowly and obediently, accepting grapes and small cubes of cheese, the hand never stopping its strokes, a constant and reassuring presence. I would be content to simply sit and exist at that moment forever but Thomas stopped feeding me and broke the comfortable silence with a gentle tone.
"You did well in the debate today."
My breath caught in my throat. Is he angry? He was angry earlier. Angry that I argued against helping France. Angry that I argued against helping Lafayette. Angry that I won. Shit! Should I have let him win? He's never hurt you before Hamilton. But he could! No, he wouldn't! But-
"-ay, Alex, it's okay. I'm not angry. You did well. It's okay" Wait, not angry? "It's okay, Alex. Breathe, in and out." I took a trembling breath. "There we go. Well done, Alex. May I touch you?"
I froze. It's okay. He said he's not angry. I nodded slowly and fingertips brushed against my cheek, wiping away the tears that I hadn't noticed crawling down my cheeks. The fingertips flattened gradually until he was cupping my cheek, his thumb gliding back and forth, tender and comforting.
"Are you ready to open your eyes sweetheart?" I hesitantly opened my eyes, tilting my chin to look at him. He didn't look angry. Only concerned. Concerned and guilty? Why is he guilty?
"Why, why aren't you angry?" Guilt filled his eyes, blocking out the concern even though I knew it was still there.
"Darling, remember when we agreed to keep work and us separate. To never discuss politics with each other, not only for the sake of our relationship but also to avoid raising suspicion." I nodded. "Well, I may not agree with your politics but I love you and I always will. You did well today even if we disagree. I love you, Alexander, despite our differences." His eyes shone with sincerity. Forcing myself up, I collapsed forwards into his arms, curling into his chest. His arms tightened around me, safe and warm. His head tucked into my neck as he brought our bodies together. I wrapped my arms around his neck and murmured into his ear. "I love you, Thomas."
~~~~~
Love isn't always shown in public, but when the whole world tells love "no", and the lovers tell love "you can't stay", love replies "buy curtains and a door if you must but here I will remain".