So Artfully Instilled Into Me

The day had arrived.

The cafeteria was set up.

The ballots had been prepared.

Election day was underway at G. Kings Memorial High School.

The process went by grade, so during first block, each class was called down to the cafeteria to cast their votes. Seniors went first, and when juniors were called down over the intercom about twenty minutes later, Alex's civics class all rose excitedly from their seats.

"So, who are y'all voting for?" John teased, walking hand in hand with Alex as Hercules and Lafayette walked with them on either side. Perhaps this question was a bit risky, considering Lee himself was only slightly ahead of the group, but the other three boys only laughed at John's inquiry.

"Close call..." Alex pretended to consider, raising one eyebrow as they passed one of Angelica's posters.

"But if you had to choose?" Hercules grinned with all his teeth, pulling his hat further down on his head.

"If you had to choose!!" Laf cried.

"Fine," Alex pretended to give in, looking around at his companions with a sly smile. "I'm doing a write-in."

"And?" John leaned in.

"Jefferson has my vote!"

"Aghhh!!!" John and Herc's cry of disgust mixed with Laf's sharp laugh, and the sound was a cacophony disruptive enough to earn a questioning glance from Washington.

"Sorry, sir. Politics." Hamilton offered a grin.

Washington shook his head, barely restraining his smile.

Once the class had reached the cafeteria, they scrambled to sign in, heading to the tables to fill out their ballots. Alex looked around, dazzled by the experience of voting for something. It was a kind of power he wasn't used to. He had always been interested in democracy, and the power people could have to aid a strong governmental system, but he had never before participated in such an act. However small-scale, this election process was wondrous to Alexander.

He caught a glimpse of Aaron Burr entering the cafeteria, and, to his surprise, Burr was not alone— a moderately tall girl with dark hair had her arm linked with his, and the two were talking. Aaron was smiling. Hamilton raised his eyebrows, although he knew Aaron couldn't see him. Could this be the girl Burr had been talking about?

If so, Alex noted, the advice he had given Burr that day in the library had certainly been followed.

But did the way the pair suddenly broke apart upon seeing they had been noticed by someone who was nearer to them mean something? Aaron had let go so quickly, his silence returning. Alex shook his head and focused on his ballot.

He hoped Aaron would get this girl. She seemed to make him happy.

Before him on the paper were two names: Charles Lee and Angelica Schuyler. Alex didn't hesitate to place a neat checkmark next to the latter, folding his ballot and sliding his hand to John's thigh under the table to signify the deed had been done. The pair stood up, exchanging a smile, and walked towards the doors, by which stood a large box that contained all the completed votes. Alex and John dropped their ballots in, leaving the cafeteria to return to class.

"Hey, should we wait for Herc and Laf?" Alex held Laurens back at the doorway, gesturing towards the tables inside.

John grinned. "They didn't wait for us."

"They're done?"

"We took a long time for two people who knew who they were voting for, John," John replied smugly.

Alex looked at the clock in the hallway. "Back to civics?"

"Ehh..." John contemplated this for a moment, wrapping one arm around Alex. "We should..."

Alexander began walking the two of them towards Washington's classroom, smiling lazily at his boyfriend. "So who'd you vote for?"

John laughed, letting Alex pull him closer as they walked. "Thomas Jefferson."

"I can't fucking believe it."

"Who in their right mind—"

"How does this even happen?"

"Intervention?"

"No one would vote for that putz! It's a wonder he even earned candidacy. Honestly, he's less qualified tha—"

"I can't believe it. I'm agreeing with Hamilton on this."

"It is a wonder. I didn't see this coming..."

"If you'd all stop moping, we can get over it." Angelica cut the small group off, putting a temporary stop to any further complaints. "I'm still the vice president."

"That's not good enough," Jefferson griped, crossing his arms in irritation.

"It's damn awful! You're completely understating it. This arrogant, unqualified, insufferable—"

"You just had to one-up me, Hamilton."

"Always."

"Hey. Angie's right." John raised his eyebrows at Alex, then looked at Thomas. "We'd better accept it, and we can be pissed later."

"I'll buy us all a round, mes amis," Lafayette grinned.

"Laf, Peggy's a freshman," Hercules interjected, resting his feet on the table.

"Ah, oui..."

"I love how you failed to mention that you're underage, too," Eliza teased.

"We all are. So we're not getting drunk, you are not buying my sister alcohol, and I will hear no more arguments or complaints"— Angelica shot a pointed look at Hamilton and Jefferson —"from anyone."

"At least till after the meeting," Laurens added.

"Right," Eliza took a notebook out of her bag. "Lee's gonna give a speech, so I figured you'd like me to take notes, Angie?"

"I'm secretary," Thomas said, only slightly dryly. "I can share notes with you if you'd like."

"I think Eliza's might be less profane," Hamilton raised one eyebrow.

"Hamilton—"

"You agree on something! This is great! You'll both take notes," Madison said quickly, bringing his hand to Thomas's shoulder in a calming act. "No need to stress."

Thomas deflated a little, pulling out his own notebook along with a purple fountain pen. "Fine. But"— he pointed the pen at Madison, raising both eyebrows so his expression arched in the middle— "If Hamilton says another word against—"

"I've got it covered," John said flatly, slinging his arm across Alexander's shoulders. "Crisis averted."

"WOO!!" Hercules took a drink of water from his giant bottle.

"Shh," Eliza pulled her chair closer to the table, pointing to the front of the room. "He's gonna start." She and Jefferson both readied their pens, and Lee walked up to the podium Washington usually stood at during class.

More than one audience member felt the podium was being soiled by his presence.

Lee cleared his throat, and the council quieted down reluctantly. All eyes turned to him.

"As you all know, I am your new president."

Hamilton glanced over at Jefferson, who was already writing furiously. He had to stifle a laugh upon reading what had been written.

As you all know, I am your new asshole. President. Oops. Autocorrect is a bitch.

"On behalf of everyone here, I'd love to say congratulations on this achievement. It will truly be an honor having a president to speak for the masses and do what's right for those who deserve what's right."

He just congratulated himself.

"I want to thank my grandfather for his support in this. A big thank you to our superintendent, without whom I would not be standing here today."

He's thanking his granddaddy.

"Under my presidency, those who deserve the best will receive it, and those who do not will receive what they deserve."

So he hates equality.

"I hope to make this council a better place, a better organization, and a better unit, for when united under a competent leader, many things are possible."

He's an incompetent moron with his values in the gutter.
And he's our president.

Jefferson shut his notebook. He and Angelica were the first to begin applauding, grim irritation on their faces.

Washington smiled, his eyes excluded from the expression. "Thank you, Mr. Lee."

"He didn't even mention you, Angie," Peggy stated in a loud whisper.

"Shh," Angelica shook her head. "Whatever. We have bigger problems."

"He takes nothing about the position seriously!" Alex fumed, nearly oblivious to John's attempts to calm him down. "I can't believe he was elected."

"I can't, either," Lafayette sighed, folding his hands in front of him resignedly.

Thomas miserably shoved his notebook back in his bag. "Lafayette?"

"Oui?"

"Can I take you up on that offer to get shots?"

The notes didn't look any less discombobulated and bitter at Monticello than they did at the first presidential meeting, and this realization led to Thomas Jefferson falling back onto the elegant carpet and groaning in pure anger. Madison, who had been sitting nearby and sorting other notes, jumped in surprise, causing him to let out a short cough.

"What's wrong?"

"James, this is never going to get done. And with this prick as president, nothing is gonna get done ever again. I don't even want to be president, but I'm starting to think I should've just to keep him from winning." Thomas moaned, dramatic annoyance practically dripping from his voice.

James surveyed the miserable magenta mound on the carpet, tilting his head. When Thomas got upset, he got desperately upset, and in these times, James had become accustomed to brightening his mood. "We're fighting for our council's very soul; I'm sure we can get out of this mess. Hey. Thomas?"

"What?" A muffled reply found its way out of the lump that was Jefferson.

"I think I know what you need," Madison said, smiling endearingly at Thomas. He was a lovable, annoying lump.

"Books? Time? A kiss? What?"

"Macaroni and cheese. It'll be a treat."

Thomas's head shot up, and he grinned at James. "You genius," Thomas drawled, rising from the mess of papers scattered around him. "Holy.... You don't get nearly enough credit for the brain you've got behind that excellent face. How many people openly acknowledge your intelligence? Your pure, unadulterated genius? Your—"

"You can go make the mac and cheese, and I'll keep sorting," Madison said, cutting Thomas off, because, frankly, his lavish flattery was making a blush stand out on James's cheeks that was much too vivid for his liking.

"Oh my god," Thomas looked at James as he danced a jig to the doorway. "I'll be back soon. I adore you, James Madison, I absolutely adore you."

James had to laugh at this, and, letting his blush subside, he returned to working on sorting through Jefferson's notes. As secretary of the student government, Thomas sure did take an abundance of these. Tons of pages from student council meetings were strewn about, each paper covered in Thomas's clean, polished handwriting. This writing reflected Jefferson's extravagance perfectly. It was neat and tidy, but when it wanted to be, it kicked out and flared and looped as if channeling the essence of a peacock's tail in splendor.

James lost himself in ordering the pages, finding that a soothing sensation came from putting the right paper next to the right paper and sliding these perfect combinations together with a paper clip. It wasn't long before he deemed the notes from meeting one fully organized.

James heard a sudden call from the kitchen. "Aghhh, you genius!"

He laughed, noticing the scent of mac and cheese beginning to creep into the office. He continued organizing.

Truth be told, Madison knew Thomas could be an asshole. He would never admit it, but he and Hamilton were undoubtedly in the same league. But there was something about the way Thomas treated James, even when he was just carrying Thomas's books— with this rigorous passion that was so much nicer than the way Madison had ever been treated before —that drew him to the council secretary, and made a blush creep into his cheeks whenever someone mentioned Jefferson. This blush was easily hidden; nonetheless, James always hoped no one would notice.

"I adore you, James!!"

James coughed, leading into a grin. Thomas adored him, even if it was just because he'd suggested that they make macaroni and cheese. He continued sorting through the notes from meeting two, stacking up several pages worth of double-sided notes.

"James Madison," Thomas's voice crooned, and James looked up to see him enter the room with an ornate tray holding two bowls of mac and cheese, several napkins, and two glasses that were filled to the brim with grape juice. "Damn, you've made progress. Here," Jefferson placed the tray in front of Madison on the floor, majestically dropping to the ground in a flurry of magenta. "I made more, too. It's in the kitchen." Thomas's voice was giddy. James found this adorable.

He reached for a bowl, which, conveniently, already had a spoon in it, and grinned at Thomas. "Thank you."

"This was your brilliant idea," Jefferson replied, already nearly halfway through his portion. "How far are we in organizing?"

"I have meetings one and two done."

"How?!" Thomas rolled his eyes back and closed them, grinning. "You're a genius and you're hot and you can organize like hell."

"You do write a lot of notes," Madison observed, once again fighting off that pesky blush. "It's no wonder Washington appointed you secretary."

Thomas's grin grew, but he didn't reply, only eating another spoonful of his mac and cheese and sighing with bliss. Why he enjoyed the dish so much was beyond Madison, but it was kind of surprisingly cute.

"So, we've only got the last meeting left to sort through," James said, taking a sip of his glass of grape juice.

"James, you're a saint." Thomas blinked at him, drained by his reprieve from working. Perhaps tiredness was overtaking him, which, James thought, may not be such a bad thing. Thomas only slept sufficiently on weekends, for about thirteen hours at a time. Indulgence was one of his fortes. "You're a saint."

"Thank you," James took another sip. Jefferson picked up his grape juice and almost-empty bowl, scooted over, and leaned his head on Madison's shoulder (enormous hair and all). James smiled and started flipping through Jefferson's notes from that afternoon's meeting.

"You sure got... Bitter."

"Mm. He's awful. Such a hypocrite."

James raised one eyebrow, amused. "Washington's gonna see these notes."

"Eliza Schuyler took some too, we'll be fine."

"Okay." Madison clipped a couple pages together. "Are you tired or something?"

"Incredibly, incredibly tired."

"It's only Monday."

"That is absolutely the worst part."

Madison sighed, gathering up the remaining notes and clipping them to the stack he had in his hand.

"I'm sorry you did all the work, James. You're a saint. You only get saintlier daily. I swear."

James's lips turned up into a smile. "It's alright. Your flattery is worth it."

"Wait just a second." Jefferson sat up straight, putting his glass and his bowl behind him. "Are you tired?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." Madison tilted his head, trying to gauge what Thomas was getting at.

Thomas's voice slipped into its occasional croon, and his grin grew wider, almost mischievously, but with more sincerity. "I know what you need."

And that was how Thomas Jefferson ended up leaning in and kissing James Madison, a prolonged action with an only-slightly intentional finesse to it.

James decided that if there was one thing that was fundamentally Jefferson, it would have to be everything that happened between the moment Thomas closed the gap between them to the moment he finally got off of James, quickly picking up a book from the shelf nearby and flipping through the pages while sipping his grape juice again. To an outsider, it would have looked like nothing had happened, had Thomas not been smugly throwing satisfied glances at Madison over the pages.

"Thomas," James was winded, and it wasn't just because of his usual cough. Sweet Jesus, was Jefferson hardcore. He laughed. "As great as that was, I will remind you, I have a cold."

"You always have a cold," Thomas laughed dismissively. "Do you want more macaroni? I'm getting more macaroni."

James grinned. "Sure."

"Besides," Jefferson grabbed both their bowls, strutting to the doorway. He turned around and grinned back at Madison. "We're gonna need a lot more of that if we're gonna get through Lee's presidency."

James laughed, coughing a little. He slipped all Jefferson's notes into a binder before finishing off his grape juice. Momentarily, Thomas reentered, carrying bowls filled again with macaroni and cheese.

"So does this mean we're dating?" Madison inquired, taking a bite of his second helping.

"James, there is only one conclusion I'm drawing from what just happened."

"Hmm?"

Thomas smirked. "This means you're an excellent kisser, especially for someone who doesn't seem to move their mouth much otherwise."