Chapter 4
“The fuck are you doing here?!”
“That's a nice welcome for someone who just walked two miles in the snow.” Hamilton joked, but it was clear from the shivering that he needed warm clothes, asap.
Thomas sighed, but opened the door wide enough for Hamilton to slip in. “Come in.”
Alexander hurried into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. His breath was labored and his shoulders wouldn't stop shaking.
“Are you ok?”
Hamilton shuddered, but a raspy laugh managed to get past his lips. “Yeah, of course! Two miles in the snow? Pfff, piece of cake!”
Thomas laughed, blushing a little. Alexander Hamilton. Standing in the middle of his living room. And Thomas…..Thomas was wearing only a towel.
“Yeah,”
Hamilton sat on the couch, rubbing his shoulders. He looked around the room for a second before he eyed Thomas’s towel.
“Just come out of the shower?”
Thomas’s wings fluttered, a bright pink overtaking them. “On a more relevant matter, why are you in my house?”
Hamilton shivered, and for the first time Thomas noticed how blue his lips were, and how he looked like he was about to pass out.
“I, uh...I don't know. Walking here seemed to be a superior option than sleeping on the office floor while Lee and John have a fist fight two feet away from me.”
"How wise of you."
Hamilton’s eyes seemed to droop, and his wings were limp on his back.
“Hey! Hamilton? You okay?”
Alexander slumped against the couch cushion, and Thomas rushed to his side. “Hamilton?”
He put his hand to Alexander’s forehead and immediately pulled away, the icy touch of his skin surprising him.
He choked out a gasp, and he rushed to make sure Alex’s heartbeat was stable.
“Alexander? Please wake up, please!”
A small murmur came from the man’s mouth, and Thomas relaxed a little. Just a little.
“Listen, Hamilton...you are unconscious, and I don't want you to die of hypothermia, contrary to popular belief.”
He shifted Alexander into a sitting position. “I'm gonna have to change you into some warm clothes, ok?”
Hamilton mumbled something, but it sounded like gibberish. “I'll take that as a yes.”
Thomas wrapped Hamilton up in a warm blanket before going to fetch some clothes. He found a sweatshirt and some pants and rushed back into his living room.
Thomas then realized he was still only wearing a towel.
He ran back into his room and slipped into some sweatpants before going back to Alexander.
The small man had fallen onto the floor, the blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon.
Thomas stopped walking when he saw the mass of blankets move. “Hamilton?”
“Jefferson?” A weak voice answered.
“Oh thank god, you're alive!”
“What happened?” Hamilton croaked, and as Thomas approached it was clear he was far from ok.
“You passed out for a few minutes. I think walking in the snow with only hoodie might not have been the smartest decision.”
“How did I get in these blankets?”
Thomas rolled his eyes before saying “I wrapped them around you. I got you some clothes in case that flimsy jacket of yours is a bit cold.”
Alexander looked questioningly at the clothes when Thomas lay them next to him on the floor. “Awfully nice of you.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “If you die I might have to do paperwork. I hate paperwork.”
Hamilton coughed. “Fair enough.”
“Now that you're all nice and settled, would you mind me asking why you're in my house?”
Hamilton got up from the floor, moving the blankets to the couch. “You stormed off, and if you died in this blasted storm because of me- well, you know, paperwork.”
“Maybe you should have stayed.”
Alexander looked confused, and his wings ruffled.
Thomas put his hand to Hamilton’s forehead, and quickly pulled it back. “You need to take a warm shower, and then put on some dry clothes.Now.”
Alexander looked down, his cheeks flushed like he was embarrassed.
Thomas stood up, a determined look on his face. His brow scrunched up, and he nearly picked Hamilton up by the collar of his hoodie. “I'm not having you die in my living room. Swallow your pride, and get in the fucking shower.”
“Alright, alright! Jeez!” Once Thomas let him go Alexander backed up, his wings arched defensively.
He scrambled into the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind him. Thomas sat down on the couch, rubbing his head. Jesus Christ, Alexander.
***
Thomas paced back and forth, everything that had happened that day washing over him.
Alexander Hamilton was in his house, taking a shower in his bathroom, and once he was out of the shower he was going to change into his clothes. Thomas groaned and rubbed his head. This was too much. Way too much.
He looked around at the familiarity of his house, wondering what Alexander saw. The pale orange the walls were, the way the dark wood of the floor was warped slightly from years and years of people. The little figurines on the bookshelf.
Suddenly he felt naked, like every tiny secret he ever hid was in plain view, begging for Alexander to see. The picture of Thomas as a small child hanging on the wall, his computer just sitting on the counter. All of his secrets.
Thomas didn't understand it! Alexander had been here before! Nothing had changed since then. Nothing had changed, right?
He sighed. What had he done to get into this mess?
He heard the bathroom door opening, and he swiftly turned around. Alexander stood there, his hair dripping. Although pants were a bit baggy considering the height difference, Alexander looked alright in Thomas's clothes.
"Nice conditioner."
Thomas almost burst out laughing. He snorted loudly and he had to cover his mouth to keep from giggling.
"What?" Alexander asked, a confused and almost angry look on his face. Thomas had noticed within the first few months of knowing him that when Alexander didn't know what was going on he would put on a defensive front. It almost made him want to laugh louder.
"Its just a weird thing to say."
Alexander sputtered. "You're a weird thing to say!"
That was it. Thomas doubled over laughing. It was so interesting how although Alexander was a genius when it came to words, his brain seemed to pull up a blank whenever it came to defending himself.
"You know what I meant!" Alexander sniffed, sitting down on the couch roughly.
Thomas wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling. "I'm sorry, it's just-" he started laughing again.
Alexander huffed and turned sharply away from him. "Ok, ok, fine. I'm sorry." Thomas conceded, sitting down on the couch next to him.
Alexander looked at him, a hint of surprise in the arch of his eyebrows. "Never thought I'd hear Thomas Jefferson say sorry."
"And why is that?"
"Didn't think it was in your vocabulary."
Ah, back to the arguing. Good. Hopefully the subject wouldn't turn sour like back at the office.
***
Alex and Thomas were seated opposite from each other on Thomas's living room floor in silence.
They had yelled at each other so much during their talk that Thomas had to remove himself from the conversation and go make some tea just so he wouldn't lose his voice. When he got back Alexander was sitting cross-legged on his floor, and no one had said anything for several minutes.
Alexander sniffed slightly as Thomas sipped from his mug. Thomas turned swiftly to look at him.
"You want tea?"
"As long as it's not the fancy-ass imported straight from the gutters of France kind that you're drinking,"
Thomas turned away and sipped his tea again. "I guess that's a no then."
Alexander's eyes widened and he started to stare angrily at Thomas's tea.
Thomas shifted his position on the floor, closer to Alexander.
"If you want it, go get it yourself." Thomas stated plainly. I'm not your maid and you're not my guest."
"Fine. Sorry I walked through a storm to apologize to you, asshole."
Alexander got up and walked quickly from the room, his wings glowing a darker hue than normal. They flapped behind him in a angry buzz.
***
God pink is such an alluring color.
Alexander could have handled anything but pink. Of course Thomas Jefferson's wings are pink.
Even if he hadn't been able to see them he would be able to tell. The man is like a giant spotlight.
The moment Alex first saw Thomas he knew he was in for it. Jefferson had walked in like he owned the world. He would've kissed him right then and there if he hadn't doubted himself. If he hadn't wondered if Thomas could see his wings.
He had always figured he didn't have a soulmate. Who would ever even think of sharing their life with Alexander? Life seemed to go by in a hazy blur for him, and people never did stay long.
He'd sleep around sometimes, trying to feel something that he was sure he'd never feel. It all just kind of...stopped when Thomas walked through that door the year before.
He slept more, stopped eating only one meal a day, and he actually felt happier than he had in years. Thomas's beautiful pink wings promised the future Alexander had always hoped he'd get the chance to have.
Standing in his soulmate's kitchen, stirring a cup of mint tea, it all felt sort of unreal.
***
At around 12:30 AM Thomas woke up on his living room floor, Alexander Hamilton snoring about two feet away.
The dim light cast from the street lamps outside gave the room an unnatural look to it. He shifted his position on the floor, squinting at the dark shapes that were all he could see at the moment.
Once his eyes adjusted, he saw Alexander's sleeping face. The man was swaddled in a mountain of blankets, and Jefferson could vaguely remember wrapping him in them. Thomas had been too tired to climb onto the couch, so just plopped down on the floor.
He swiped at his face, trying to rub the tired away. His eyes swept the room, finally landing on Alexander's sleeping form. Even wrapped in blankets, the floor is a uncomfortable place to sleep.
He carefully picked up the smaller man, making sure the blankets stayed wrapped around him. Alexander mumbled in his sleep, something about taxes.
"Oh, Alexander." Thomas quietly laughed. He carried the man into his bedroom and plopped him onto his bed. After making sure Alexander wouldn't roll off it by accident, he returned to the living room.
The sofa was a O.K. place to sleep, and he didn't mind all that much. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.