Heads or Tails? - Jamilton/Hamlaf

Call it in the Air

Warnings: Arguing (obviously), drinking

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The wine glass slipped from Lafayette's hand and shattered on the ground, staining the floor red, much too similar to a blood stain for his taste. He was frozen, taking in the appearance of the one he loved. Tousled hair like he'd been running, wind-blown clothes, baggy eyes as if he hadn't slept for ages. He was still wearing the green suit. He hadn't changed one bit. Lafayette's heart thudded painfully.

Hamilton had come with the intention to deck the guy in the face but once his eyes landed on him, he couldn't seem to. He just looked so...empty. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, at this point, messy couldn't even describe it seeing as it was lopsided and one breeze away from falling out. His normal upright and proud posture was slouched, skin dull instead of soft and glowing. His clothes were torn and stained red from blood, or maybe wine, as if he just got back from dealing with a mob. There was a long cut down his cheekbone and his eyes were lifeless and sunken in as if the last time he got more than an hour nap was three months ago. He just looked tired to the bone.

His entire expression was one of shock. Lafayette didn't move, he just stared at Hamilton blankly like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing was real. So Hamilton stood on the doorstep awkwardly, his plan of tackling and punching him thrown out the window.

"Lafayette?" No response. "Jefferson?" Nothing. Hamilton reached forward and poked him.

Lafayette blinked. "Alexander? What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You're literally the most famous person in France, everyone knows your address and I speak fluently. All I had to do was ask."

"You need to leave."

"What? No."

"It's not a suggestion. You have to."

Hamilton scoffed, "No I don't." He shoved past Lafayette and stepped inside. Lafayette looked both ways down the street before shutting the door.

"Alexander-"

Hamilton turned to face him, crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving. I just carted my happy ass all the from New York, down to Monticello and across the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not going anywhere and the least you can do I offer me a drink."

Lafayette stared at him for a moment before cleaning up the broken glass and wine and going to retrieve a couple more glasses and at least five more bottles. He was going to need them. Hamilton waited for him on the couch of the living room while Lafayette was in the kitchen. He popped the cork and poured Hamilton a glass and chugged the rest of the bottle and filled his own glass from a new bottle before walking back out, the new bottle in hand for refills. Handing Hamilton his glass, Lafayette sat as far away from him as he could, staring at the fire.

"Lafa-er-Jefferson." Fuck, Hamilton had no idea which name to use.

"Just pick one. Though since we're in France and I very much like my head, I'd suggest Lafayette."

"Right."

Lafayette drank deeply so Hamilton took a sip, watching the Frenchman stare at the fire. After a moment, Lafayette finally spoke. "You need to leave."

"Why are you so intent on me leaving?" Hamilton asked angrily.

Lafayette turned to looked at him, "Because one slip up and I lose my head. If anyone finds out I live a double life, I won't have one anymore and your presence risks that. As Lafayette, I can keep this revolution from getting anymore bloody. But there's risk to it and if you're here, you're at risk too."