Chapter Text
“Damn right I’m pretty.”
“I said petty.”
“Oh. Well, good. I would never want you to think I was pretty anyway.”
“And I don’t. Keep moving Hamilton – don’t you have something better to do than eavesdropping?”
“Of course I do. And I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
A deep blush rose on the shorter man’s face as he floundered for a moment and then darted off in the direction of the mess tent. He hadn’t meant to overhear Jefferson and Maddison’s conversation, he just happened to be walking by them and he heard his name mentioned. It was only natural for his ears to prick up, wasn’t it? And he’d been so startled when he thought he heard Jefferson call him pretty of all things that his mind had jarred, resulting in a sarcastic comment which he would have (might have) otherwise kept to himself.
And why had it stung just a little when Jefferson had shut him down? It wasn’t like Alexander wanted Jefferson to think he was pretty. Of course not! The man was insufferable! Jefferson with his snide comments during debates; Jefferson with his chin always raised like he was above everyone around him; Jefferson with his too-bright colours which he strutted around in. Jefferson, with his long coat and knee-high socks which accentuated his long legs and towering height, and Jefferson, with his cocky smirk and twinkling eyes, and Jefferson, with his oversized bushy hair which Alex so wanted to comb his hands through and –
Oh. Oh no. No no no nonononononononono. This could not be happening.
They weren’t even friends; they were rarely even civil. But the more Alexander thought about it, the more he realised that maybe he didn’t hate everything about Jefferson after all. Of course, Alexander had figured out the disreputable ways of his heart a while ago, back when he and John had gotten spectacularly drunk and kissed behind the Red Crusade inn. He still felt like he had been betrayed by his own sensibilities. He knew he was meant to ‘love thy enemy’ – but surely not like this? And why had his feelings disguised themselves for so long? Was it because that, now he thought about it, the chances of Jefferson even fishing in the same pond as him were next to none. His heart and his head were quarrelling so much that he didn’t realise someone had sat across from him until they flicked him in the face.
--<3--
Thomas had been having a perfectly lovely, normal conversation before Hamilton had shown up with his smartass comments. Why did the little man have so much to say and absolutely no verbal filter? He was going to get himself shot one of these days when he said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and sometimes Thomas felt that he couldn’t completely guarantee that he wouldn’t be the one to pull the trigger. Today had been one of those times.
What had really annoyed Thomas on this occasion, however, it hadn’t even been Hamilton himself. It hadn’t been the amused smirk and eye Maddison had sent his way, for reasons known only unto himself. It hadn’t been that he had been impertinently interrupted. It had been the bitter taste on his tongue as he denied thinking Alexander Hamilton was pretty. It had left him gagging on his words for the rest of the conversation.
Only once he had found a corner tucked away amongst the trees which lined the edge of their encampment did Thomas think further about what had happened. The first question to answer: did he think Hamilton was pretty? His head instantly supplied him with an answer – no. Of course he didn’t. The men saw eye to eye on nothing, and that wasn’t even due to Hamilton being ridiculously short. Thomas’ heart had other ideas. It supplied him with images of Hamilton that he couldn’t so much as connect to a memory but were as clear as day nontheless.
He saw Hamilton laughing as Laurens whispered something in his ear, making Hamilton throw his head back, letting the midmorning sun catch in his curls; creating a fuzzy red-gold halo around his head. He saw Hamilton in front of his troops, giving support, guidance and a morale boost to them all, his glittering blue eyes revealing his honest connection to his men - a true leader. He saw Hamilton in conversation with Washington, the relaxed but confident slant of his shoulders making him seem like a man that could accomplish the impossible if he set his mind to it.
And oh, his mind: probably the most beautiful part of him. The decisive arguments which Thomas loved finding a way to break down – only for Hamilton to set him a new challenge the next time they met. The way that the cogs and gears would visibly shift inside the colonel’s head as he tried to accommodate all of the factors for their next attack; shifting again as he weighed success rate against the casualties they would sustain in the effort. The righteousness he pushed into all of his acts, all of his convictions which proved just how strong his intellect was.
And god damn it but Thomas loved him for it.
He groaned loudly as the truth hit – it really wasn’t an epiphany that he had ever hoped to have. How the hell was he supposed to go on now? He couldn’t just walk up to Hamilton -who he had probably royally pissed off that morning- and declare that he loved him! Everyone would think that he had gone mad, and not only that but no one knew that he was gay. What would James think? What would Washington think? What would his other friends think? What would everyone think?
What would Hamilton think?
Only one way to find out.
This was how Thomas found himself in the mess tent, flicking a completely zoned out Alexander Hamilton in the face after he failed to respond to anything else.*
--<3--
The two men just stared at one another for a while, not registering the rest of the world. They locked eyes, neither daring to blink as they drank in the sight of the other, as if it were the first time they had ever met another person. The moment was broken by a loud string of curse words which had boomed out of the kitchens, followed by frantic shouting about the new subsequent lack of soup.
Alex and Thomas laughed a little; both still unsure about what to do now that they were face to face. Neither knew what to say, so naturally they both started talking at the same time.
“So I thought about what I said earlier and I feel like I was a bit of a dick so -”
“Hey I get I shouldn’t have been so snarky this morning but I -”
Looking away from each other, they lapsed into silence again like nervous teenagers; not sure who should continue speaking.
“Go on; you first.” Alex said, looking back to Thomas.
“Well,” Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly, inwardly cringing, “I, um, wanted to apologise about earlier. I didn’t mean any of what I said and I, uh, I really hope I didn’t offend you.”
To say Alex was taken aback by the sincere apology would have been an understatement. He felt his face flushing as he started to ramble a response, waiting for his brain to catch up with him.
“It’s alright, I didn’t- I mean you didn’t, um, offend me. I should really apologise too, for butting in. I was just shocked when I thought you said that I was, uh…” Alex squirmed on his bench, “pretty.”
Now it was Thomas’ turn to respond quicker than his brain could work: “Of course I think you’re pretty” came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He only realised exactly what he said when Alexander’s eyes blew wide open and his eyebrows tried to bury themselves in his hair.
“You-” Alex choked on his words before starting again, “You do?”
No time like the present, Thomas decided. “Well, I did just tell you that I didn’t mean any of what I said this morning.” He smirked at his own snarkiness before remembering he was having a heartfelt conversation, dropping his expression again and biting his lip nervously. “And yeah, for the record I think that you’re, um, uh…” Thomas struggled for the right words before opting to be completely honest, “I think you’re gorgeous.” Unable to stop, he let his words run away from him, exposing him far more than he would have liked, “I love how your hair shines in the sun and how your eyes gleam when you talk about the things you’re passionate about and how you hold your head high even when the odds see insurmountable and I love how you say what you mean and carry your heart on your sleeve and I love -”
He was cut off abruptly by Alex holding his index finger up and pressing it gently against Thomas’ lips, shushing him before he could let the word ‘you’ escape and make things even worse. He was brought back to earth by a small, shy chuckle from the redhead which quickly escalated into a full bodied laugh, as if Thomas had told the funniest joke in the world – not the response he was hoping for when he had just poured his heart out, though in all honesty he wasn’t sure what he had been looking for.
Feeling shame and embarrassment colouring his cheeks he quickly rose, almost stumbling as he stepped back. As he turned away he felt spark jolt through his fingertips, through his arm, to his heart and looked down to find Alex had stopped laughing and was now wearing a kind smile – his slender ink-stained hand holding Jefferson’s own.
“What? Have you realised you shouldn’t laugh at someone’s heart?” Thomas snapped, perhaps too venomously, surprising himself a little bit.
“Oh Thomas,“ That was new. When had they started using first names, Thomas wondered distractedly. ”I’m not laughing at you. I was laughing at the pair of us. And we thought we were so smart.” Alex paused, looking right into Thomas’ eyes, as if waiting for the penny to drop. When it was obvious it hadn’t he continued, “I feel the same way as you do.”
For the first time in his life, Thomas lost the ability to speak. Had he heard Alexander correctly? Did they both just admit to not only not actively hating each other, but liking each other? Did they really both say that they liked each other even more than friends would? He gaped like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth over and over, unable to find his words. So instead he laced his fingers through Alex’s and squeezed, praying that his simple action would say a thousand words.
It seemed to do the trick, because the smile he was rewarded with was more beautiful than a hundred sunsets and a million stars, and to Thomas it was worth everything -knowing he was the cause of it.
Wordlessly, Thomas tugged Alex up and out of the tent, still holding hands. They ducked under the perimeter lines which marked the edge of camp and into the trees next to it, out of the way of prying eyes - or eavesdroppers. When they found a shady tree they sank down next to it, grinning like a pair of school boys, their hands entwined on the grass between them.
“Are you sure about this?” Alex asked, a slight waver to his voice
“I am.”
“Why me though?”
“Because you’re smart and witty and infuriating in all the best ways and -”
“And pretty?”
Thomas wrapped his arm around the smaller man, grinning like an idiot when he felt him wriggle deeper into the embrace. “Prettier than you know, inside and out.”