You have Beautiful Wings

Thomas severely doubted there was anything more boring than a New Year’s party, besides maybe not going to a New year’s party on a plan-less Friday night. Sitting around in Alexander Hamilton’s livingroom with a bunch of half-drunken adults in their early-to-late 30’s had to be better than doing the same thing at home. Well, same except not as many depressed half-drunken adults. And no Alexander.
Mainly just the sitting around bit was the same.

That… that had to better, right?

This was the main question Thomas asked himself as he sat around in the middle of the living room, not really half drunk but not entirely sober. He was holding a red cup half filled with some sort of alcohol, because why the fuck not.
He was never really one to play into the “drink to numb the pain” trope, and even though it was New Years and his soulmate had invited him to a party even with the fact they’d been nearly-almost-but-not-quite-kinda enemies ever since they’d met and he was completely overwhelmed with the surrealism of it all, he didn’t really feel the need to drown his sorrows in whatever crappy booze Hamilton had stocked in the cupboard that hadn’t already been chugged.

That kind of jokey alcoholism was definitely an “other people” kinda thing in his mind. Other people drank to forget, other people loved New Year’s, other people found these parties fun, other people would’ve refused the invitation, other people got drunk and confessed their feelings, other people would have told their soulmates the truth from the very fucking beginning and wouldn’t be having an existential crisis in the middle of said soulmate’s goddamn living room like a fool, like an absolute shitty fool.

Thomas... Thomas wasn’t “other people”, he guessed. God that sounded fucking pretentious, but it was kinda true. To him, at least. Everyone thinks they’re special.

He sighed quietly to himself, dejectedly shaking his head as he stood up from his seat to throw the red plastic solo cup away. Hopefully along with all the other unwanted thoughts that kept pouring into his brain whenever he was around anything even remotely having to do with Alexander.

The remnants of the party lay all around the small apartment; half-empty cups, crumbling bits of food, chip bags, along with actual people. John Laurens was passed out on the couch, presumabky going to be gathered up by Gilbert de blah blah whatever Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan once the two finished drunkenly making out in the guest room. Aaron Burr and James Madison had been around until a little while before, when they had both left the party quietly, almost unnoticeable. Thomas didn’t blame them; it hadn’t been a particularly good party, even before people had started passing out.

Everyone that’d been at the party had either left, passed out, or been dragged off to an Uber by a more sober friend. The only person that wasn’t accounted for, actually, was Alexander.

“Bastard can’t just throw a party and then disappear for the rest of it.” Thomas grumbled to himself, not really upset at Alex, moreso at the fact he hadn’t gotten a chance to see or talk to him. He’d… well, he’d been kinda looking forward to that, no matter how pitiful and ridiculous that was.

Thomas shook his head, curly hair falling into his face, too preoccupied with his thoughts to brush it away or even care. He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down and dismiss the nagging feeling.

Funny, he never really thought he’d describe not seeing Hamilton as “dreadful” before.

Beyond his closed eyelids, the lights flicked off in the livingroom. He opened them just in time to see Laurens being lead out the door of the apartment by both Gilbert and Mulligan. He noticed that (thankfully) Gil was calling a cab. None of the three were in the right shape to be driving.

And that left him all by himself.

At Alexander’s house.

By himself at Alexander’s house.

He suddenly felt kinda nauseous.

Thomas stood up, deciding he’d use the bathroom and then leave. It was late, the party was over, there was no real reason for him to stay. It was kind of pathetic that he was still there, actually. Really, really pathetic-

Shaking his head again, he made his way down the hall, which was right near where the living room ended and the kitchen began. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, as Thomas had noticed earlier. He was gonna step inside and close the door to throw up in the toilet when he smelled something particularly awful.
He leaned forward a bit to investigate, one foot still in the hall. Y,know, in case it was like a chopped off hand or something and he wanted to get out of there quick.

Luckily, no dead hand. Looked like someone beat him to the “vomit in the toilet” idea though.

Thomas grimaced, ironically no longer wanting to vomit. Or at least, not vomit in that toilet in particular. He stepped out of the bathroom quietly, ready to leave and forget he was ever there. And he was gonna, too. He really was, it was just-

He heard something. It was quiet, and soft, but definitely there. It kinda sounded like music. Like it was playing from a radio in one of the rooms that lined the hallway. He bit his lip. It sounded like it was coming from the room right next to him.

Thomas wasn’t a very impulsive person, never had been. So why, why on earth did he open the door? Why did he step inside over a stupid sound? Why did he think that was even vaguely a good idea? Opening a closed door, at Hamilton’s house, after midnight, when everyone else had gone home.

He wasn’t very cautious either, but damn! That was a whole new level of stupid!

And, as this night was just begging to be a disaster, none other than Alexander Hamilton himself was sitting on the bed with his laptop when Thomas opened the door, the mystery music blasting from his phone.

Thomas cussed himself out inside his head, cause of fucking course he’d be the one playing music, it’s his fucking apartment you dolt. That took about five seconds, in which Hamilton stared at him in blank surprise. This made Thomas beyond nervous.

“Listen, I can explain, I thought this was the bathroom, I really didn’t mean to-” Thomas started to say, more jittery than usual. This was probably due to the fact of how late it was and who exactly he was talking to. For a second he couldn’t take his eyes away from the wings behind Alex, folded up and moving gently up and down with the rhythm of his breaths. Maybe that’s why he had such meekness in his voice.

Alexander just rolled his eyes, sighing quietly and rested his chin on his hand, as if he were bored, or possibly tired. “It’s alright. Are people still out there, or are you all there is?” He asked passively, gently closing his laptop and setting it to the side.

Thomas paused for a moment, tilting his head in confusion, just for a second. That was not what he expected Alex to say at all. “Uh.. yeah, just me, and I was about to leave, so…” He said, one foot moving backwards into the hall in an attempt to back away into the hall. However, Alex shook his head. Another thing Thomas didn’t expect.

“It’s like one AM or something, right?” Alexander asked, checking his phone. “Yeah, one thirty. You got a ride?”

Thomas shrugged. “I was just gonna get an Uber or something.”

Alex shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with one hand as he motioned for Thomas to come closer. He was tired, Thomas could tell. He didn’t have the same composure as he usually did, and the look in his eyes was different, almost… soft. “You don’t have to, y’know. It’s real late and you live at least a couple miles away, right?”

Now Thomas was really confused. Not only was Alexander not being horrendous towards him, he was being genuinely nice. That was certainly new. “Are you sure? Where would I even sleep?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms skeptically. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay- so so so far from that, actually. He just… wasn’t exactly sure why Hamilton was being nice.

“You could sleep on my- uh, on my couch...” Alex began to say, words sort of fizzling out at the end as he seemed to notice how reluctant Thomas looked to accept the offer. Had Hamilton actually forgotten that they weren’t exactly friends or something? Decided mortal enemy to offering him a place to sleep for the night didn’t seem like a very plausible sequence of events.

“But you don’t have to. Or need to, actually, I’m sure an uber would work fine, but if you don’t want to bother with that I’ve got a couch, so...” Alexander continued, tone changed entirely. He now sounded rather meek as he was saying it, not entirely convinced of his own words. A rare occurrence for the man, Thomas was sure.

Maybe it was because Hamilton was tired; at least that sounded more possible than him actually softening towards Thomas.

Thomas didn’t want to take too long making up his mind, after all, it was just an offer for a place to sleep. Not a sign of friendship, no hidden meaning, just Hamilton being a considerate person for once… however strange that was objectively. He sighed.
“You know what? Sure. I don’t see why not.” He answered finally, chuckling a bit dryly to himself.

It might’ve just been a trick of the light, but Thomas was sure he caught Alex’s eyes light up for a second there. Whatever.

“Great! Wait- um, I mean, uh... cool. Cool, right.” Alex responded clumsily, chuckling weakly like Thomas had. Yeah, the man was definitely tired. Hamilton got up from the bed, wings fluttering gently as he moved past Thomas towards a door on the other side of the hall, which turned out to be a closet filled with blankets and towels. Surprisingly organised considering who owned them. He grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the closet, handing them to Thomas.

Thomas accepted the blankets he was tossed, too tired to actually acknowledge how weird the situation was in that moment. “Thanks, this is… nice of you.” he said, pausing for a second as he thought of something to say that wouldn’t make him seem too friendly, you know? Accepting the offer was already cutting it close.

Alexander shrugged, nodding. “No problem. You can, you know, go set yourself up on the couch. I’ll be in my room, don’t bug me.” he replied, starting to walk back towards his room as he finished the sentence, going in and closing the door behind him.
Thomas almost scoffed when the door closed. He guessed Hamilton had also gotten the memo on not being too nice.

But… I mean, what was he to expect, right? It’s not like Thomas was making an effort to be pleasant towards Alexander. The opposite, actually, so why should he be treated any different?

Thomas groaned quietly in dismay. He was annoyed with himself, with Alex, with the whole occurrence. He shambled into the living room, plopping the pillow down on the couch and flopping down onto it himself shortly afterward, the blanket thrown over him lazily.

And he went to sleep.

And he dreamt of Alex.